Pls Don't Match Length Unless You Want To - Blog Posts

𝕨𝕙𝕠      @ironlvngs​ 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖  the pool party 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟    late into the evening, the attendees are suitably buzzed

              she   sat   alone   in   the   men's   locker   room.   after   a   failed   attempt   to   complete   her   dare,   quinn   was   toying   with   the   idea   of   giving   up   and   going   home.   while   she   didn't   want   the   anonymous   'g'   spilling   her   secrets—   she   also   knew   if   they   did,   they'd   have   little   left   to   blackmail   her   with.   was   it   worth   the   risk?   as   tempting   as   it   was,   at   this   time   in   the   term;   absolutely   not.   it   was   still   early   enough   in   the   year   that   the   whispers   would   follow   her   into   next.   that   paired   with   greer's   disappearance   and   she   would   be   a   laughing   stock.   she   cared   too   much   about   her   reputation   for   that.

              so   she   fell   on   her   backup   plan...   as   shameful   as   it   was.   the   scheme   was   basic,   a   little   desperate   and   it   relied   on   the   base   desire   of   even   the   most   prudish   college   students   to   give   in   to   their   lust.   ogden   students   in   particular   had   a   proclivity   for   believing   they   were   god   given   gifts.   if   she   targeted   someone   she   had   some   kind   of   history   with,   someone   she   knew   would   fall   for   her   flirting,   quinn   was   sure   she   could   pull   this   off.

              just   as   the   blonde   was   about   to   get   up   from   the   bench   and   go   back   into   the   main   hall   where   the   pool,   and   most   of   the   party,   still   was,   lady   luck   dropped   a   prize   goose   into   her   lap.   she   tilted   her   head   as   the   door   swung   shut   behind   link.   the   overheads   were   off   and   the   light   was   low.   still,   she   could   make   out   their   silhouette   from   that   mop   head   they   called   hair.   "you   better   not   be   following   me,   crawford."   she   sung   into   the   space   between   them,   her   voice   honeyed   and   inviting.