Hello. I'm a long time fanfiction reader, and I was feeling a bit selfish doing all reading and no writing so…here it goes.

I'm very American, and I will not be attempting to use British slang by any means because that's just ridiculous.

I do not own Skins, but if I did I'd make Lily Loveless fall in love with me, somehow.

Chapter 1

Do you ever feel like your life is beyond predictable? I do sometimes. I live in this tiny ass town in Ohio. There's one gas station/grocery store, and two bars. That's literally it. So needless to say there isn't much to do but get drunk and make bad decisions on the weekends.

I have a decent home life though, and I really can't complain about the freedom my parents let me have, even though I'm 18, and legally an adult. My sister still lives with us and is two years older than me. Carly, she's what you would call an individual. My mother says "she marches to the beat of her own drum," which is ironic because she's a drummer. Anywho, I'd say she's my idol in this life. She helped me come out to my parents when I was 16, which wasn't much of a shock to them because Carly did the same when she was 16. My parents are firm believers in the "as long as you're happy" motto in life, and I'm grateful.

I also have a brother, Nick, who owns his own house 3 minutes away from my house. He's 23, and has a steady job at a car factory that make certain makes of Chevy. He landed the job right out of high school which is unheard of, and he also managed to get Carly a job as well. I'm the only one of us 3 who's attempting college at the moment, and being the baby in my home I can get away with murder if I wanted to.

By the way, I'm Naomi. Naomi Campbell (don't laugh). Like I said, I'm the baby of this crazy Polish family in good old Bristolville, Ohio. I just started college and am majoring in Politics at Kent State. I decided living at home and commuting was best, and I still can bum gas money off my parents so it really doesn't matter to me. I go 4 nights a week and the rest I spend raising hell with my kick ass sister, driving around in her Ford Mustang (or the "chick magnet," as I like to call it) looking to chat up pretty girls. I'd say we do pretty well in turning heads, on account that I recently bleached the shit out of my hair to fit in with the rest of my family. What are the odds, all blue eyes, all blond hair, except for me. I was born with shit-brown hair. But, I don't have to look like the mailman's kid anymore thanks to peroxide.

That's the plan for tonight, being Friday night and all. Carly and I are getting ready to go out to the Bristol Inn, which is the better of the two bars in my opinion. There's a DJ tonight, so maybe there will be a little dancing. I can't really complain, it's the only option we really have unless we want to drive an hour to a real club.

"Hey loser," Carly pops her head into my room.

"What time are we heading out?" I ask her, applying my mascara in the mirror while sitting in the floor cross-legged.

She walks over to my bed a flops down, checking her phone, probably texting on one of the fourteen girls she has on the line.

"Change of plans, Nick's picking us up around 10. Said something about a girl from Orwell that "wants his body" is going to meet us at the Inn. His words, not mine."

Orwell is a town about 20 miles west of ours.

"He thinks every girl wants his body," I say rolling my eyes.

"Hopefully she does, then he'll want to move the party to his house and we won't have to quit drinking when the bar closes."

"Hopefully" I reply "I just hope the bar has a few new faces, I'm tired of getting hit on by drunk, old assholes. Finding a bi curious girl around here is like finding a needle in a hay stack."

"I don't have any trouble," she says back smugly, smirking at me.

"It's the chick magnet Mustang that gets your more ass than a toilet seat," I say rolling my eyes once again at the arrogance of my siblings.

"How many times have I told you not to call it that, it's lame as fuck. Car or not, I have no trouble finding women, it's my incredible gay-dar."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Just be ready by 10 ass monkey," and with that she walks out of my room and down the stairs.

It's 9:30 now, and I'm checking myself in the mirror to make sure I'm ready for the night. I have on light skinny jeans and a black v-neck shirt, vans, and thick eye liner. I have my hair braided off to the side. I look pretty good, considering we're only going to the fucking Bristol Inn.

I hear Nick's arrival downstairs by his boisterous voice coming up through the floor. Here we go, hopefully something good happens tonight.