Finals Period

The term is coming to an end and I haven't done shit. As usual. I open my laptop, scurry in my password, and open a word document to start my final paper. Ugh, writing fucking sucks but I can at least write a heading to make myself feel better. Why can't I even figure out what I want to say?!

I'll just check Facebook real quick: stupid selfie, silly selfie, fuck that guy –he's hasn't gotten any cooler since high school; "You won't believe these men weren't born men!" Major side-eye; when the fuck did I add you? Whatever, you cute.

Shit. INSERT TITLE HERE. Cool, I wrote something – Facebook for 15 seconds. Yo, Eric is friends with Oliver? Damn, I didn't know that. Eric posted a photoset of him and Oliver and some other dudes in someone's room. It looks like they're flailing around and playing videogames. Their hair is flying everywhere, they're rolling around on the floor, and they're flipping their hair back in forth and running their fingers through each other's hair, like the girls in my high school did when they were bored or pulling their hair back. Ugh, drool. It got me then, and it gets me harder now. I love people with long hair. And I mean anyone. When it's down, I'm dead. I don't know what it is.

I've never met Oliver in person but I see him around often enough. He's got dark hair he's been wearing in a ponytail though sometimes he wears it down when it's not too hot. Probably only an inch or two taller than me, his frame is much more rectangular. At least I think so, considering I can see my hips in a mirror even when I wear plain jeans. Sometimes, he catches me looking at him. He gives me this bashful side smirk and I go wide-eyed and tighten my lips in embarrassment. I don't know how he catches me every time.

Fuck, uhhh where is the page number thing? Whatever. Save.

I close my computer and slip on some sweats and grab my thermos so I can make some tea and take a break and brainstorm while I watch TV in the rec room. I walk in the kitchen and grab the electric kettle off the counter and put it in the sink. Waiting for the water to fill it up, I take out my phone and hear someone tapping away on their computer mumbling "which one do you think would be good?" All filled up, I put the lid on the kettle and put it back on its stand to boil. I reach for my phone to pretend like I'm doing something, when my name and a request demands my attention.