211Désenchantée - Chapître Deux (currently too lazy to think up chapter titles)
Oh, God.
She climbed over the side of the bed, careful not to wake him. He lay sprawled across the bed haphazardly, one arm flung over his stomach, the gold sheets tangled around his waist and legs. His chest rose and fell softly. With cautious diligence, she eased off the mattress and hoped the movement wouldn't jolt him awake.
Standing in the middle of her room now, she stared blankly around the room, searching for something to wear. Her clothes and his lay strewn over the floor. And on her dresser, her desk, and her chair, she noted as she followed their chaotic path. The shirt he'd worn last night lay rumpled at her feet.
Another quick glance at him told her he wasn't getting up any time soon, so she quickly bent down and snatched up the shirt. It would do for now, and she was still too dazed to look for something else. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons. Eventually she got them fastened and with just a bit of struggle rolled up the sleeves.
Okay. Now she was dressed.
She hovered uncertainly in the middle of the room, chewing on her lower lip. Oh, the hell with this. Quinn Carter and what had happened last night could wait until after she'd had a cup of coffee.
Creeping over to the door, she edged it open. For once it didn't creak, and she sent up a silent prayer of thanks. She still wasn't going to take her chances, so she left it cracked open instead of fighting to close it. The lock was broken and she'd forgotten to call the landlord about fixing it.
Her muscles relaxed the second she stepped into the hallway. Funny, she hadn't even realized she was tense. She rolled her shoulders back experimentally to get the last of the tightness out of them, and then slipped down the stairs.
Now that she was closer, she could hear her other roommate puttering around in the kitchen. The smell of coffee was strong. Maybe there was hope for this morning after all.
Suddenly perky - or at least perkier, she headed toward the kitchen.
"Where were you last night?" Mikaela Barrington asked archly as she entered, raising one perfect eyebrow at Morgan's rumpled hair and Quinn's button down shirt. It obviously wasn't Morgan's, especially considering that it came almost to her knees and hung shapelessly around her.
Morgan found it grossly unfair that such a creature was even friends with someone like her. Mika looked like she'd been up for hours. She was perfectly pressed and put together, too much so for a Saturday morning. Even if it was nearly noon.
Pushing a lock of hair away from her face, she stared blearily at tall, blond Mikaela. "Here?"
Her friend laughed and handed her the cup of coffee she'd poured while Morgan was still standing half-asleep in the doorway. Morgan accepted it automatically, peering down into the sludgy black mess. No creamer or sugar, she'd guess, squinting. Oh, hell. She took a sip of the thick liquid, immediately regretting it. There was a reason she and Reese didn't let Mika make the coffee on normal days.
"I didn't hear you come in," Mika murmured, her expression suggestive. "Late night?"
With a sigh, Morgan set her sludge on the counter. "You have no idea." She jerked open a cabinet, wondering what had happened to the sugar before she realized she was looking in the wrong place. "You really didn't hear us?"
Mika frowned at her. "'Us?' Honey, I hate to tell you, but Reese spent the night on Angie's couch. Did you bring someone else back with you?"
Upstairs, a door slammed shut. Probably the door to the bathroom, unless the breeze had catapulted her bedroom door into a closed position. Either way, if Morgan had to bet, Quinn hadn't been as deeply asleep as she'd thought. That meant he would shortly be making an appearance downstairs. At least Mika wouldn't think any less of her for last night's drunken mistake.
"'Did someone invite himself to spend the night?'" Morgan tossed her a less-than-thrilled glance over her shoulder. "That's the question you should be asking."
Mika just laughed. "Honey, someone's always inviting themselves to spend the night with you. The unknown is whether or not they got past the door."
That exaggeration didn't even bear commenting on. Really, Mika was starting to sound delusional. Morgan jammed a spoon into the sugar and ran a distracted hand through her shoulder length hair. "I should brush my teeth," she said instead. "And my hair."
There was a moment's pause before Mika asked suspiciously, "Why bother?"
Morgan tugged at the hem of Quinn's shirt and hurried out of the kitchen. "I have the feeling you'll understand when he comes downstairs."
Nonplussed, her friend followed her as far as the doorframe, watching Morgan disappear into the downstairs bathroom. She leaned against it and waited patiently for Morgan to return. When she did, her hair was tucked neatly behind her ears and the makeup smudges had been carefully washed away. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled more evenly around her elbows and, men's shirt or not, the white and pale blue stripes suited her.
As the girls retreated into the kitchen for the second time that morning, Mika still eyeing her roommate curiously, footsteps sounded heavy on the hardwood stairs. The apartment wasn't huge, but sound had a tendency to echo. When Quinn rounded the corner, Mika's eyebrows shot straight to her scalp. Morgan scowled irritably and went back to sulking over her coffee.
"Good morning, ladies," he said smoothly, stopping a few feet from Morgan. She didn't look at him. Shrugging and apparently unconcerned, he turned to Mikaela. "I'm Quinn," he announced, thrusting out his hand.
She ignored his outstretched hand and leaned back against the counter. "Mikaela."
His arm fell to his side. "Yeah." He turned back to Morgan. "I kind of need my shirt."
Mika choked down a laugh. "I think you're doing just fine without it, cowboy. I'll leave you kids alone. Play nice." Before Morgan could even protest, she slipped out of the room.
She could feel him staring at her. God, she thought, don't make a scene. The morning after was always so awkward, plagued with the eternal question of: What now? She hadn't meant to end up in bed with someone from Iago's program. Now she'd have to see him every time Iago dragged her to a function or party involving the IR people. The thought was not comforting. And worse, what if he thought this meant something?
Sucking her lower lip between her teeth, she slowly turned to face him. His dark jeans were slung low on his hips, revealing tan, muscular arms, sculpted abs, and nicely defined shoulders. Well-toned, but not bulky. She studied him appraisingly. Even though Mika hadn't said anything, Morgan understood the look of shock on her roommate's face when she got her first look at Quinn Carter.
He wasn't her usual type. Other than the fact that he was tall, that is. From the tips of his previously spiky but now flattened hair to the muscles of his well-toned calves, he reeked of preppiness and Greek letters. Right now the bright green eyes were studying her just as meticulously as she was him. She watched him run a hand through his chestnut brown hair uncomfortably. Some sort of tribal symbol was tattooed around his upper arm.
He cleared his throat. "My shirt?"
"Yeah."
She set the rapidly cooling coffee on the counter and stalked toward the stairs. She bounded up them lightly. Mika had made herself scarce, but it was probably a good idea to shut the door to her room anyway. Turning to shove the door closed, she found herself face to face with Quinn's more than a little attractive chest. Irritation bubbled up. "I was going to bring it down to you."
Shrugging easily, he reached over to unfasten the first button, his finger trailing across her skin. "It's cold downstairs."
She danced out of his reach, scowling at him. Why hadn't she kicked him out last night? Oh, yes, she remembered. Because she didn't remember bringing him home or the part where she'd passed out in a sated stupor. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all."
Morgan watched open-mouthed as he walked past her to throw himself down on the burgundy and gold velvet comforter, propping himself on his elbows so that he was more comfortable. When she raised her eyebrows in outrage, he simply smirked.
"Should I get you popcorn while I'm at it?" she demanded scathingly.
The self-satisfied grin widened. "Just the shirt will do."
What an ass. She stomped over to her closet, throwing open the doors so that they clattered. A white, oversized tee-shirt emerged after little searching and she made short work of the buttons on his. The last thing she was going to give him was a show. She yanked the white tee over her head quickly.
"Here." She wadded up the shirt and threw it at him. "Anything else, your highness?"
The sudden glint in his eye should have warned her, but the fury she was feeling distracted her. She wasn't angry at him, though. She was angry with herself. Angry, guilty, and embarrassed. He must think she was a total slut. What else could he think? She ended up in bed with him a mere five hours after meeting him for the first time. Not only that, but she'd only been truly functional for maybe the first hour. The rest of the time had been spent in a drunken haze.
She certainly wasn't proud of her actions. It probably didn't say much about her that she was taking her frustration out on him, either.
"You could be a little nicer to me, you know," he said mildly.
A short laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "Why?"
He was in front of her before she realized it, his hands sliding beneath the hem of her shirt and settling on her hips. He stroked his thumb across the juncture of her thigh. She didn't even have a chance to gasp in surprise before his mouth covered hers, hot and seeking.
He must have found toothpaste somewhere, she thought hazily, tasting the sharp tang of Reese's mint tartar control special. She knew because she'd used it the last time she'd ran out.
His tongue slipped between her lips, running over the rim of her teeth and pushing against hers. A low moan sounded in her throat. She shouldn't be doing this. Even while her eyes slipped closed, she pushed him away. "Don't," she said.
"Why not?"
She didn't have a chance to answer him. He drew her closer, so close she could feel the ridges of his abdomen pressing against her stomach, even through the shirt. Close enough that the rough material of his jeans rubbed against her thighs. One of his hands slipped beneath the oversized white tee to caress the slope of her rounded hip. Her resolve was rapidly slipping away, but his mouth had covered hers again, and so the only sound she managed was an unintelligible sigh.
Shifting the angle of his head, his hand traveled higher up her waist. The second one joined it, and her shirt quickly ceased to be a flimsy barrier between them. It took only seconds for him to break away from her and slide it over her head, his mouth on hers again before she'd even realized it had been gone.
Her hands were on the fly of his jeans, fumbling with the brass button. She ignored the voice in her head screaming that this was a bad idea and finally managed to undo his jeans. They broke apart, breathing ragged and uneven. She didn't give herself time to think about the repercussions. Stretching, she bit his shoulder. He responded by nibbling on the side of her neck.
Why not, indeed.
It was maybe two hours later when she finally shut the door of the house behind him, a phony smile stretching across her face. She hadn't told him to call her, hadn't given any indication that she wanted it to happen again. They'd been polite and superficial, and had avoided any discussion about what had happened, both last night and this morning.
When he'd grinned down at her, it had been with the satisfaction of someone who had gotten exactly what he wanted. She'd done her best not to snarl at him. The embarrassment still suffused her pale skin, a telltale rose tinge that marked her just as surely as Hester's scarlet letter.
She could just imagine the anxiety that would cloud the next IR party or function Iago would surely drag her to. Whether the other grad students knew or not, she'd still feel like they did. And she could imagine the jealous stares from the other girls. She vaguely remembered how they'd been looking at her at the party, the upturned noses and behind-the-hands comments.
Dropping her head against the door, she sighed. Stop worrying about it, Morgan, she thought. You're going to give yourself an ulcer. But that was only because she worried about everything.
She stayed like that until after she heard his car start and drive away. Then she picked herself up and glided to the counter, where her coffee now sat cold and sludgy next to the microwave. She took a sip of it anyway. It still tasted like hell, thick and bitter despite the sugar she'd poured into it.
The sink was right next to her. She dumped it down the drain without a second thought, wincing at the coffee-soaked sugar that had settled in the bottom. Disgusting. She didn't say anything as Mika entered the kitchen behind her.
"Did the stud muffin leave?"
"I don't know about you, but I don't know any stud muffins," Morgan retorted. She emptied the used coffee grinds and set about making new coffee. Coffee that was palatable. "Do you want breakfast?"
Mika took the coffee pot from her and filled it with water. "No, but I'd love lunch. You realize it's after noon, right?"
"Fine. Do you want lunch, then? I'm still making omelets."
"Depends on what you're putting inside them."
"I'll make yours carnivore-friendly," Morgan promised. Mika didn't believe in vegetables. "Remind me. You don't mind onions, do you?"
"As long as there's nothing green inside of it, I'll eat whatever you make." Mika thought about that for a minute, then added, "No tofu, either."
Morgan rolled her eyes. Sausage it was, then. She briefly thought about asking Mikaela to brown the meat, then decided the four-alarm fire that would probably result wasn't worth the extra help. The girl had burned rice, for God's sake. She relegated Mika to cutting vegetables in the corner, hoping against hope that she wouldn't slice off a finger instead of a mushroom stem.
They were silent while they worked to prepare the ingredients, but once the prep time was over, so was the unspoken truce. Mika dumped the vegetables into a bowl on the counter, then faced Morgan purposefully. "Okay, I helped with breakfast. Now who is Quinn?"
"Just some guy."
"Morgan, he's so not your type," Mika said, as if Morgan didn't know that already. "How did you meet him? How did he end up coming home with you? Are you going to see him again?"
"What is this? Twenty questions?"
"Does it have to be?"
Morgan sighed and set down the stainless steel knife she was holding. The eggs had already been whisked with milk, ready to be poured into the pan. Because she hated grating cheese, it had been bought pre-grated. The only thing left was the fresh herbs that would be sautéed with the vegetables and meat. She dumped the raw sausage into a frying pan and put it on high. Into another she placed the vegetables.
"I don't know what you want from me, Mika," she said finally. "It was just a one-night stand."
The look Mika sent her way was perfectly blank, but Morgan was almost positive she could see the corners of her friend's mouth twitching. "I'd guess you probably met him at Angie's party last night. Is he an IR student?"
"Yes."
"And you don't think you'll see him again?"
"There's always hope." She waited until Mika finished giggling at her sarcasm. "If I'm lucky, he'll spend more time with the first years than with the second years, and other than the occasional party, he will cease to exist in my universe."
"Did he do something, Mo?" The sudden outrage in Mika's voice was unmistakable.
Morgan shrugged. "Nothing I didn't want him to do."
"Then what's the problem?"
"He's an arrogant jerk?"
Snorting rather inelegantly, Mika tossed her a wry look. "So is half of the male population. You're going to have to do better than that."
Morgan took the sausage off the heat and turned her attention to the sizzling vegetables. "Reese thinks he's nice." At least that's what Morgan thought she remembered from the previous night... Not that it mattered. They'd all been more than a little intoxicated. Everyone except for Robert and Marc. "I just hate his type."
"And just what is his type?" Mika asked, handing her a clean pan in which to cook the eggs. "Tall, dark, and handsome?"
"Very cute, Mika. He probably expects me to fall at his feet the next time he sees me and beg him to take me back to bed. God, he couldn't even be decent this morning-"
"Before or after the wake-up sex?"
"Mika!" Morgan exclaimed, aghast at her roommate's interruption. "We did not have wake-up sex." Instead of challenging her, Mika leaned against the counter and raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly. Morgan squirmed. "Well, it wasn't. It was more like... 'I can't help jumping you' sex. We were both already awake."
"Your eggs are burning."
Morgan gasped and switched her attention back to the food, ignoring the irritating smirk on Mika's face. She managed to salvage the eggs with very little trouble. "It was a one-time thing," she said as she turned down the burner and waited for the cheese to melt. "I met him at a bar. It's not like we're going to realize we had a deep, soulful connection and start dating."
"If you say so." Much to Morgan's surprise, Mika didn't argue with her. "Any plans for tonight?"
"No, everyone will probably still be recovering from last night."
Everyone except her, anyway. Morgan was one of those lucky people who were blessed to almost never wake up with a hangover. In fact, she could literally count on one hand the number of times she'd had one in the last three years. That didn't mean she had any desire to repeat what had happened last night, but she definitely wasn't feeling the effects.
Mika conscientiously studied her nails. "Hmm. Well, Reese just called."
"And?"
Personally, Morgan thought it was amazing that Reese was even conscious after last night. That was, if her unreliable memory was right and Reese has been just as trashed as she was.
"And she's still trying to move off Angie's couch. But once she manages said feat, she's going to call. I'm going to pick her up and take her to the mall. Do you want to come?"
"I don't know. I don't think I feel like getting dressed-" She stopped mid-sentence. "Wait, Reese is going to the mall? In the same clothes she wore last night? Without getting a shower and putting on make-up?"
"Yeah, I know. I don't think she was awake or coherent when she suggested it."
Morgan shook her head. "Amazing."
Her face perfectly blank, Mika said, "You really should come with. I heard there's a fantastic sale at that lingerie store. You might want to get some things just in case Quinn does spend the night again."
Morgan made a face and slapped Mika's omelet down on a plate. The force caused it to break open and lurch tragically to one side. "Will you please just let it go?"
"Oh, but it's too easy, honey."
Unable to manage even the slightest dregs of outrage, Morgan put her own omelet on a plate and joined Mika at their kitchen table. They ate their omelets in silence, although Morgan couldn't help but notice the amused smirks Mika kept throwing her way. Suddenly realizing that the coffee had long since been done, she rose and poured herself a cup. She silently offered one to her roommate, but Mika shook her head. Apparently if it didn't have coffee grinds in the bottom, it wasn't worth it.
"What time do you think Reese will call?"
Shrugging, Mika polished off the rest of her omelet. "You have time to get a shower and get ready, at the very least. She called at eleven and didn't sound like she was going to make it anywhere - including down the stairs to my car - any time soon."
Morgan silently considered her options. If she stayed home, she could go back to bed - and actually sleep this time. The downside of that was that her sheets still smelled like Quinn Carter, which might make sleep difficult anyway. If she went to the mall, she'd probably end up spending money she didn't need to spend, and she did have a weakness for the lingerie store Mika was talking about, so chances were, most of that money that didn't need to be spent would be spent there. Then again, going to the mall would get her mind off things that would be only too easy to dwell on in the apartment.
The mall it was.
"Fine. But you're on clean-up duty, since I cooked." She smiled sweetly at Mika and sailed out of the kitchen before she had a chance to protest. Her smile dimmed slightly when she realized she'd left her coffee. It would ruin her exit to go back and get it, so she continued to the upstairs bathroom.
God, she loved the smell of his cologne. She kept catching faint whiffs of it drifting from her skin and was almost loathe to wash it off. She might not have any intention of sleeping with him again, she might think he was an ass, but even she couldn't deny that he smelled fantastic.
She checked her watch before slipping it off. Despite what Mika said, she'd better hurry. Reese's timing was often unpredictable, and always inconvenient.
She'd opted to let her hair dry naturally today, something she rarely did. When she didn't attack it with a smoothing product, a hairbrush, a hairdryer, and a curling iron (in that order), it sprang into heavy ringlets that were the bane of those around her. Though her hair came past the middle of her back, she either straightened it or pulled it back. It was less hassle during the day that way and she didn't end up with it in her mouth all the time (which inevitably happened when it curled).
Today she just didn't care. It was still hot outside, more than usual for the end of August. If she straightened it, it would probably curl as soon as she walked outside anyway. She'd worn a pair of short khaki shorts and an army green tank top with a pair of sparkly green flip-flops.
She looked like she belonged back in high school.
Oh, whatever. She wasn't going to the mall to impress anyone, was she? The answer to that, of course, was "no," which meant she could justifiably not put on any makeup. Suddenly cheered, she bounded down the stairs to find Mika frowning at a navy blue duffel bag.
"Meek? What are you doing?"
Mikaela sighed. "Reese called back. She asked for a bag."
"Oh, no," Morgan groaned. "By 'bag' did she mean her entire closet and half the drawers in the bathroom?" They shared a moment of commiseration. "Well, if you're missing anything, she'll get over it. I'm not going to wait for her to primp at Angie's for the next forty-five minutes."
"Forty-five minutes? Mo, you're being generous. And you're driving." She raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of, how did you get home last night? Did you drive?"
"In the condition I was in? Yeah, right. Quinn got me home. How else do you think he ended up spending the night? Believe me, that was not premeditated."
"Premeditated or not, Mo, it still happened. So did he drive you?"
Morgan squinted, trying to remember. She remembered walking and complaining about the breeze, so Quinn had wrapped one of his arms around her. Blood suffused her cheeks. And if she was right, she'd responded by playfully biting his wrist. "Um, I think we walked."
Mika tossed her the keys, which she caught automatically. "You realize it's three miles to Angie's, right?" She shook her head. "You're insane."
"I hate your car," Morgan grumbled in response. She undid the lock and slid into the driver's seat anyway. It took her about five minutes to readjust the seat, the mirrors, the radio, and everything else in the car, but eventually she got settled and pulled out of the driveway. Driving Mika's car was always a process, especially since Mika was about ten inches taller than she was. She tested the brakes experimentally. She always had to stomp on them to get them to work, another thing she wasn't used to.
She pulled up behind Reese's car, unbuckling her seat belt and sliding out of the driver's seat. On the other side, Mika did the same, although she had a bit more trouble because she was loaded down with Reese's "necessary" belongings.
"Do you want some help with that, Meek?"
"No, I think I've got it." Two of the bags slid to the ground with a thunk. "Er, actually, could you grab those?"
Fighting back a grin, Morgan complied. Once she'd settled them around her shoulders, she hurried in front of Mikaela and opened the door, ushering her inside. They spent enough time at Angie's that since she knew they were coming, knocking might have been overdoing it. Angie wouldn't care anyway.
A group of people was gathered in Angie's living room, sprawled over the couches and chairs. There had apparently been quite a few people who hadn't made it home last night.
"Good morning," Morgan sang out cheerfully, her perky smile widening as several people visibly flinched. It may have been her sadistic side, but seeing them look so miserable made her feel better.
Devon Phillips, Angie's boyfriend, responded by slumping further onto the couch and jamming a pillow over his head. "Shut the fuck up, Sunshine."
While his voice lacked any true rancor, she had no doubt he would have benefited from total silence. Devon got the worst hangovers of anyone she knew, but it never seemed to stop him. Anything over a whisper was probably overkill at this point.
The rest of the people in the room grunted in hello. Mika kicked someone's feet out of the way and collapsed next to Reese on the couch. "I make a great hangover remedy," she said, not bothering to lower her voice in deference to the recovering alcoholics. "Angie, do you have any liver? Tomato juice?"
Gina, one of the girls who had still been slumped on the floor, bolted toward the bathroom. Morgan only hoped she made it. "Mika, behave yourself."
"But I'm having so much fun." She dropped one of Reese's bags in her lap. Reese groaned and slumped over her bag. "Reese, are you okay over there? Go get dressed."
"I can't even move," Reese moaned. She peeled open an eyelid. "Did you bring my makeup case?"
Morgan turned to look at the pile of bags on the floor. "I think it's here somewhere?"
Reese popped up like a jackrabbit. "Mika, I told you I needed my makeup case. Angie!" The last came out more as a whine.
Angie's spiky red head lifted off the floor, appearing from the other side of the coffee table. "Please don't yell," she croaked. Devon revived himself long enough to pat her reassuringly. "What do you want?"
"Can I please borrow some makeup?"
"You know where it is." Angie collapsed back onto the floor.
In a surprising burst of energy, Reese flew off the couch and disappeared through the back hallway. Morgan wasted no time in claiming her seat. "Do you kids need anything?" she asked.
"A new brain?" Devon suggested.
"Sorry, D, we don't perform lobotomies here." Mika tossed a stale pretzel from the coffee table at him. "We can get you some Tylenol, though."
"Water," someone whimpered from the floor.
Mika obediently rose from the couch and wandered into the kitchen, where they could hear her rummaging through cupboards and the refrigerator. She came back a few minutes later with four glasses of water and a bottle of Tylenol balanced precariously in her hands. "My waitressing skills are failing," she said.
"You only waitressed for a weekend," came Devon's muffled response.
"And now you know why." Morgan grinned and took some of the glasses out of Mika's hands before she could drop them. "Apparently customers prefer to eat their food, not wear it, right, Mika?"
Mika responded by making a face at her.
Angie's head broke the plane of the coffee table again. "Morgan, how did you get home last night?"
"Word on the street is that I walked."
"It's three miles!"
"Mo, are you nuts?"
She waited until the groaning subsided and they settled back into their respective positions across the living room before she continued. "I have vague memories of moonlight shining on the dumpster near the apartment building on Jones."
"How romantic," Gina mumbled, coming back into the living room. She staggered to the couch and sank to the floor in front of it. "Were there any bums serenading you?"
"No, just Quinn," Mika smirked. This had to be retaliation for the waitressing comment. "I hear he's got a great baritone."
"He does," Angie mumbled from beneath the coffee table. "But how do you know?"
Sneaking a glance at Morgan, Mika answered, "Oh, I don't." But the look on her face promised that Morgan would hear the rest of the story later, whether she wanted to or not. "I just overheard some conversation."
No one bothered to point out that she hadn't been at the party last night, probably because they couldn't remember whether she had or not.
Reese chose that moment to reenter the living room, a mere ten minutes after she'd left it. "Okay, let's go," she said. "There's a shoe sale at Macy's."
"She looks like Reese, she sounds like Reese..." Mika frowned, "but the Reese I know would still be getting ready."
"The shoes are more important. Angie, thanks for letting me pass out on your couch last night."
A hand appeared, waving half-heartedly. "Anytime."
With Reese tugging them out the door, they managed to exchange a flurry of good-byes and thank yous. They decided to leave Morgan's car there and pick it up later, so Morgan claimed the front seat of Mika's car. Reese sprawled across the back.
Mike pulled away from the curve, and Reese suddenly sat straight up in her seat.
"Okay, Morgan, spill. What the hell happened last night?"
A/N: Another update! Don't get used to this. :) I had this chapter pre-written, but I don't know how quickly I'll be able to get chapter 3 done, so it might be a little longer between this one and that one. I will try, though. I promise. In fact, I am going to try to get chapter 3 at least started tonight. We'll see how that works out...
Side note for everyone: the something "blue and exciting" did not have anything in it. Morgan had three drinks in half an hour, two shots following shortly after, and then whatever Quinn made her (a Jet Ski? Those are blue). I'm also relatively certain that she continued to drink after that one was gone. That would do in most of the girls I know... myself included, I would imagine.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this (and if you're from the States, Happy Labor Day)! Individual responses to follow. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!
-K
Alice - I'm glad you like this, and I'm glad you like Morgan! The characters just sort of developed a life of their own, so I hope you continue to like it as it progress!
Driew - I'm pretty attached to Quinn, too, lol. But then I've seen a lot more of the story than you have... So here's hoping you continue to like him (and the story)!
Reason vs. Rhyme - I hate summaries, so that was the best I could come up with. :) I'm glad you like it so far and I hope you continue to do so!
Irresistible12345 - Yeah, I didn't much expect everyone to understand all of the Spanish, but since it's typical Iago (and you'll learn more about his story in a bit), he demanded that at least part of his dialogue had to be in his native language. As for liking Quinn better than Morgan... Well, they both have their faults and their high points. And as long as you like at least one of them, I'm not going to complain. ;)
Chic Rebel - The title means, "Disenchanted," in French. It is also the name of a Mylène Farmer song (and a Kate Ryan remake) that I used to be obsessed with when I was living in Spain.
Firebringer - I'm not sure what the cliché is, but I hope it does, too! (I have a distinct antipathy for clichés, but Myrika says that they're clichés for a reason).
Res Ipsa Loquitur - Boo. I almost had to break open the thesaurus, lol. Just kidding. Well, I'm glad that this brightened up your day... And yes, you need to come visit, especially since the monster (no names needed, I assume?) is not going to end up coming, even though he promised me two days. ::radiates hatred toward him:: Anyway. Let me know how the interview went.
Kaysin - That makes me feel better. :) Sorry about the Spanish... I did add translations at the bottom, but I figured it didn't really matter to the story since Morgan couldn't understand them and she's the main narrator. I hope you continue to like it!
Sigh - Sorry about that. But I did outgrow the characters, and it got to the point where I just couldn't realistically write them anymore. I liked the story, too, and the premise, but... It just wasn't working. And I would rather change the story than write something half-assed that wasn't my best (not that this one may be any good, but oh, well).
Thanks also to: Drops of Jewpiter, pink dandy lion, bananasplit01, Takishia, and nfgcassie