Howdy, y'all! Welcome to my first fiction since I was twelve - and thus, my first fanfiction ever! I'm still debating how long it's going to be, how fast the burn is going to be, etc. I'd like to thank you all for your patience while I figure out this uploading system and get yelled at about what sorts of things fanfics need to have from my best friend, R! Please be gentle in your feedback - and let's get this show on the road!
Trudging down the worn, blue carpet, Marinette couldn't help but be grateful that the hallway was completely empty. Maybe everyone was down at dinner? Whatever. As long as she didn't have to deal with Sabrina or – she shuddered – Chloé. Before she got to college, Marinette thought shallow, conceited girls like Chloé only existed in terrible teen dramas on MTV. But ever since she'd gotten here, there'd been a lot of new things to learn.
She could practically hear her…partner's voice purring "And not just in textbooks" in her ear and shuddered again. The banter was fun while it was happening, but the fact that she could hear him in her head kind of freaked her out.
Marinette knocked roughly on the door, just in case, and then let herself in. Kicking her flats under the bed, she texted her roomie, Alya. "Hey, not coming down to the dining hall tonight." Then she flung herself face-down on the too-pink bed, and groaned into her pillow. The last two weeks had been so bad. And not just getting lost and having to deal with Chloé bad.
It only took a few seconds for her phone to quack in her hand. "Want me to come up?"
Mari grinned. Her new roommate was so nice. Probably the best part of coming to college so far. "Nah. You gotta eat."
Her phone went off again, instantly. "So do you!" And before she could respond, "We'll order pizza."
Marinette rolled her eyes. Pizza did sound nice. It had been slimy green beans and insta-mashed potatoes all week, none of the fresh, good food her Maman and Papa made her back home. Truth to tell, she'd even been afraid to dig into the breakfast pastries – they all looked plastic under the heat lamps, nothing like the fresh daily-made ones her family's bakery served. She checked the calendar on the wall above her bed. Tonight was corned beef and cabbage. Wrinkling her nose, she typed back "Sounds perfect."
Grinning, Mari rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes. She could remember the day she'd met Alya perfectly. She'd just gotten into their room for the first time. The cinderblock walls were pockmarked, one of the mattresses had a large black stain on it, and she'd realized they'd have to share the giant, peeling wardrobe parked next to the door. None of it looked like the chic dorms advertised in the campus brochures. Still, she was just so excited to be here. First day as a Fashion major in college! Biting back the excited squeal she'd been biting back for weeks, Marinette had opted for the left side of the room (the stained-mattress side). She could always change with Alya when she arrived.
"Um, excuse me. You're in my room."
Mari froze for a second, dropping her suitcase's handle (her parents were taking care of the rest of the boxes downstairs). A slim girl with a blonde ponytail and way too much blue eyeshadow was lounging against the doorframe, hands on hips. Still, she'd been dressed in all the latest fashions: nude lipstick, for starters; a sleek jacket in a canary yellow; and the rest all white with hints of black. The effect was so overwhelming, it kind-of hurt Mari's eyes. And how the heck was this girl so unrumpled and fresh?
Taking a deep breath, she offered up her hand. "Hi. I'm Marinette. Are you…A-lee-ah?"
"As if I'd have such a tacky name." The girl looked her up and down as if she'd just noticed the fact that Mari's bangs were plastered with sweat to her forehead, that her suitcase was covered in polka dots and stickers, and that her nails were still covered in paint from last night.
"Then…who?" She could feel her face wrinkling in confusion.
"I'm Chloé Bourgeois, the mayor's daughter. They obviously made a mistake at the housing office – I was supposed to get the biggest room!"
Mari just stared at her, heat suffusing her cheeks. Maybe there wasn't a mistake at Housing – maybe she'd made a mistake. And after she'd been so careful to double-check room numbers, too.
"Are you deaf?! Move it," the blonde snapped. She clicked her fingers, like you would at a dog. What else could Mari do? She grabbed her suitcase and hauled it out of there.
Had she made a mistake? She triple-checked the navy blue plaque over the door, just to make sure. Room 218. She already knew what the packet said, but she scanned it to make sure. And yup, there it was: Swann Hall, Room 218. Was there more than just this one freshman dorm named Swann? There had to be; but Dad had been so careful to Google Map campus the week beforehand. A print-out of her new college with a precise red circle around the dorm has been hanging on the fridge for weeks.
Mom and Dad would be up soon with boxes, but Mari figured it was better to meet them downstairs and explain the mistake. Helping them pack it back into the car would speed it all up, so they could stick to the schedule: meet Alya, unpack, enjoy the Freshman barbecue. She didn't want them to leave, but she couldn't wait to have her first night in a college dorm! Then it hit her: she didn't even know where she was sleeping tonight. Figured. Not that Mari had bad-bad luck – it was always just hide-under-the-covers-and-refuse-to-come-out embarrassing. Adjusting her suitcase, she couldn't help but think that no matter how awkward this was, at least she didn't have to bunk with Chloé.
She was finally on the elevator when she heard the explosion: "Well, if you're not Marinette, what are you doing in this room?!"
Whoa. Mari stuck her arm in between the doors sliding shut and took off, suitcase rattling behind her. A new girl had shown up at the door to Room 218, with a box that read "ALYA: Textbooks." Marinette blushed again, glad that neither girl could see it. Did she have the right room this whole time?
"I was told that I'd have the biggest single!"
"Girl," Alya said, dropping her box in the doorway, "are you blind? This is not a single. Did you not notice? Two beds?"
Alya wasn't necessarily what Mari expected. She was a little taller than Mari's five-foot three, with really gorgeous cinnamon skin. Her thick, curly hair was dark red at the roots but lightened (or dyed) to copper at the bottom. Mari couldn't see much of her face, but at least they were similarly dressed – Alya wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, rumpled jeans, and high-tops. Probably not a diva, then.
"But I want it!" Chloé's whine made Marinette want to cover her ears. Was this girl for real?
"Well, I wanted to move into my room with my new roommate, but you're making it impossible. I don't care if you're the President's daughter – they assigned these rooms the way they did for a reason. So scram."
Chloé appeared in the doorway, phone out and fingers flying. "I'm calling my Daddy! Ugh!"
Alya raised an eyebrow, but stood her ground. "You do that."
Making sure to shoulder-check Marinette on her way out, Chloé stormed down the hallway, phone up to her ear. Marinette barely noticed. That was – that was awesome.
Alya heaved a tired sigh, but smiled. "Okay, girl, show's over."
That jerked her into motion. "Oh! Oh, sorry. Hi, I'm Marinette." Blushing again, she offered out her hand for the second time today.
Alya took it. Winked. "Ah-lya." She grabbed her box, turned back to the raven-headed girl. "So do you want the moldy mattress or the knife-carved desk?"
"That was awesome." Mari followed her in, happy to take back the room. Her room.
"What? Dealing with Chloé?" Alya shrugged, picked the bed on the right side of the room. "It was pretty easy. Could've just called Security or Housing, but I like to try to solve it on my own first."
"Still!" Marinette gushed, smiling. "I couldn't – didn't – that was awesome."
Alya adjusted her thick hipster glasses before opening the box and pulling out a Wonder Woman poster. "You can't let girls like that walk all over you, Marinette." But she grinned as she said it.
In fact, she had that same grin on tonight when she finally came gliding through their door. "Hey, Mari! I have some amazing news!" Dropping her bag, she nudged Marinette's legs. "Scoot!" When the miserable girl complied, she practically cannon-balled onto the bed, almost hitting Mari's legs in the process. "You'll never believe who was out on campus saving people today – and who got primo footage!" The redhead started scrolling through her phone with both thumbs. "It was so crazy! You know how the school was trying to host that contest for the station's weather girl? The girl who lost totally went crazy and went total villain! She froze, like, six buildings before Ladybug and Chat Noir showed up!" Alya found what she was looking for, flashing her phone at Marinette, who caught a glimpse of her friend's pet project, The Ladyblog, and a grinning photo of the superheroes in question duking it out with Stormy Weather before she covered her face with a pillow.
Alya grabbed the pillow. "Hey! Hey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Marinette grinned weakly. "I just – I was, um, in one of those buildings."
"Oh, gosh!" Alya looked stricken. "Oh, oh I'm sorry, Marinette. I didn't know. You must've been so scared."
"It's okay," Marinette sighed. "And, yeah, kinda."
Alya slid off the bed, letting the other girl sit up. "Then pizza's my treat," she winked. "And hey, if you were all frozen – at least you didn't have to deal with your obnoxious science partner?"
Marinette nodded, closing her eyes. She hated lying to her best friend, but how could she tell her what Marinette considered her biggest secret? And after all, she was under strict orders not to tell.
Alya was already on her phone, ordering the pizza. "And," she finished up with a sly wink at Marinette, "my friend needs to get over a jerky guy, so can you send your hottest delivery guy?" Marinette shrieked, throwing the frilly lace pillow she'd been clutching at Alya's head. The redhead dodged, laughing, and barked, "Perfect! Thanks, dude! See you in fifteen" before hanging up.
Marinette rolled over, and let out a scream into her pillow for the first time all day. Alya boffed her in the head with her other pillow. "I'm heading to the bathroom. Don't do anything until I get back."
With Alya gone, she groaned out loud. The black-haired girl was terrible at keeping secrets, and she'd just added another one onto the pile. Why couldn't she just be a normal girl? Fully normal, not…whatever this was. Sighing, she grabbed up a cookie from the package sitting on her desk. Might as well just put it in now, in case it's needed later. Anyone else would probably think she was feeding her purse cookies.
She closed her purse not a moment too soon. Alya burst through the door, grinning. "Get ready!"
Grabbing her school ID from her purse, Marinette was able to give an honest grin. "Already?"
"We scored!" her best friend crowed, letting their door swing shut behind her. "We got ourselves a real, live model!"
"What's a real, live model doing working at a pizza place?"
Alya giggled. "Maybe he needs the money?"
"I'm so sure." Marinette rolled her eyes. Like a model needed to work at a pizza joint. Still, it'd be fun to see who did show up. In fact, she spent the entire walk down the stairs postulating weirder and weirder scenarios. "What if it's some three-hundred-year-old Chinese kung-fu master?" she asked as they shoved through the door to the building lobby.
"Girl, I think we're about to find out."
A silver car had pulled smoothly up to the curb. A guy was hunched over his front seat – "Ooo, look at his butt," Alya cooed to her friend, cracking Marinette up – before he straightened up and turned to their door with a box and a two-liter of Coke. Mari gasped, and she thought she heard Alya whisper "Damn." The guy was pretty tall, with that long, swooshy blond hair you only saw on, well, models And now that she thought about it, her partner. But that couldn't be. Her partner was way more muscular than the smooth blond making his way up to the building. Alya elbowed her in the side – hard – and opened the door to greet him.
"Hey," Alya said. At least she managed to rein it in, deepening her voice and sounding cool.
"Hey," he nodded back. Mari's face got hot. He had bright, apple-green eyes that lit up when he saw her. "Hey."
"Hi! I mean, hey. I mean, how are you?"
Alya turned to her, one eyebrow lifted. "Uh-hunh. Anyway," she said turning back to the delivery guy to sign the credit slip, "my friend was wondering what a model was doing working for a pizza place?"
"Alya!" Mari hissed, but the blond just chortled. He handed Alya the pizza, Marinette the Coke. Marinette almost died when his pinky brushed hers.
"I'm only a part-time model. Honest. Really, it's just something I do to keep my dad happy." The blond rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes – those adorable green eyes – but he didn't look mad that they'd asked the question. "Anyway, uh, I hope you two have a good night!"
"Good have a – I mean, um – uh – you too!"
He just cocked an eyebrow, slipped a hand in his pocket and waved at them before stepping onto the sidewalk. While Alya turned to get the door for the stairs, Marinette peeked out, watching the guy get into his car. The guy was already by the front door when he turned to glance over at the building. Seeing her pale face, he grinned and tipped her a wink. And then he was in the car, pulling away.
Blushing, she hurried to catch up to Alya. "What did you think?" Alya teased as they rounded the corner to their room. She already knew what effect he had on shy Marinette, but she couldn't help but tease her roomie.
Marinette pictured him slipping behind the wheel of his car. He'd winked. At her. "He's kinda…Wow." She blushed all over again, slipping her card into the lock beside their door.
Alya nodded sagely. "I'll say. Girl, what kind of fashion major are you? You totally forgot to ask him which company he works for!"
Later that night, after pizza was eaten, a rom-com had been watched, and Alya had teased her about the cute delivery guy, Marinette stared up at the ceiling and wondered. What the hell was her partner doing in his spare time anyway? She couldn't picture the obnoxiously suave guy that annoyed her to pieces doing anything like delivering pizzas. The few times they'd worked together, he'd teased her about how much she'd end up falling for him – with an ego like that, he could be a supermodel. She had to stifle a laugh. Please. As if that guy could be any kind of model. After all, wouldn't everyone have figured it out by now? His face mask didn't cover that much.
Marinette grinned. The pizza delivery guy – Adrien, Alya had shown her on the receipt – was pretty cute. And he was absolutely nothing like pesky, stubborn Chat Noir. She should know pretty well. After all, she was Ladybug.