Well here is a new story inspired by none other than my dad.
Its kinda just a spur of the moment thing so try to look past the grammar and spelling mistakes and find it in you heart to leave a review.
I don't own skins.
He looked into the mirror on the wall of some bloke's bathroom. It just didn't feel like his night to party. That was the weird thing James Cook not feeling like partying.
He had been to smashing raves, clubs, house parties, shindigs, birthday parties you name it he's done it. He had some pretty shitty ones and some ones that were totally fucking mental. He even remembers a time when if a party wasn't going good he would bust out in a goofy grin and shake things up.
Tonight ,however, he felt lost and hurt. He couldn't get his head in the game. He took tons of pills and other drugs just to get high enough, but he just couldn't feel even the slightest tingle of off his titsness.
"What's wrong with me?" he mused splashing cold water on his face. "Why isn't this working?"
A knock came from the door and a very out of it voice slurred "Hurry up bro, some of us have business to do."
Cook opened the door to see the smallest human being he ever laid eyes on. She stood at maybe just over five feet. Her hair was curled slightly and fell around her face in a movie star way. The blood red beanie she wore over it made it seem like her hair was black, or maybe the lighting did it also. She wore a simple white Fall Out Boy t shirt that made her shoulders seem to broaden out and torso funnel down to her waist. She wore tight black skinny jeans that were tucked into a pair of plain grey boots. Yet the most striking article of clothing was a belt that peeked out from under her t shirt with the phrase #BOSS printed on it.
"Dude you gonna stand there or let a lady go to the bathroom?" She asked cocking an eyebrow. Her accent was clearly American and it brought a blush to the Cookie monsters face at its sweetness.
"Sorry mate" he mumbled. He stepped aside and allowed her to enter the now unoccupied bathroom.
.
.
.
.
Cook spent the hour looking for the little foreigner all over the house. He got some liquid courage and wandered to the back yard where he saw her. Her eyes were shut tight and she was air drumming to a song in her head.
"Hey" he said approaching her.
Her eyes flashed open and he noticed the deep chocolate almost black look to them. "Bathroom boy." she said stopping her playing and putting her hands on her knees. "What up?"
"My name's Cook." he stuttered out. What the heck he thought I'm never shy around women.
"Cook." she said once rolling around in her mouth like she was tasting its flavor. "Jordan," she stated point toward herself. "Most people call me Jay or junior though."
"Junior?" he inquired looking at the odd girl.
"Named after my dad. The mother fucker thought it would be cool" she spat. "How about you, cook, like to party?" she asked taking out a spliff.
Three spliffs later and Cook was having the time of his life. HE was laughing and joking around with this American. they were currently laying on a hammock he arm wrapped around her shoulders and head resting on his.
"Cook, man you are something else." she giggled. "But what's wrong?"
"What?" he asked peeking at her.
"You looked worse for the wear when you came out the bathroom and you sought me out so what's wrong?" she asked shifting to look at him.
"I'm fine see nothing's wrong. No bruises." He said shifting to look back at her.
She sighed and got up. "Just because there are no bruises doesn't mean it doesn't hurt Cook." and with that she walked away, leaving a surprised Cook looking after her. Cook tried to look for her but she wasn't around. Seemed like she disappeared right off the face of the earth.
"There goes the coolest girl ever." he whispered.
"Cook!" came a yelp from inside.
Turning around he say a tall blonde and petite red head looking at him.
"Naomikins! Emilio!" he howled out "Let's go fucking mental!" he waved around. They giggled and turned around motioning for him to join them. He walked a little slower the words of Jordan weighing on his mind.
He knew she was right. Yet tonight he was going to party with friends and forget everything that hurt him. Tonight it was about what Cook wants. "And what Uncle Cookie wants," He said as his eyes scanned the room and landed on a fit brunette dancing by herself. He made an imitation gun with his hand and fired "He gets." HE howled out with laughter.