Concept and characters generously provided by VoidGolem. Special thanks to @talesforsluts edits and suggestions.
Pretty Fate Machine – June 1999
Alone we were alone in her bedroom, and I was trying very hard not to read into that.
Naomi was hot. Her black hair was shoulder length, with a subtle blue streak she’d dyed in for graduation. Though she didn’t show it off, it was impossible not to see she’d inherited her mother’s curves and flawless features.
Naomi was intelligent. She’d been accepted into an Ivy when we’d started dating, and her name was always on the short list for valedictorian.
Naomi was cool. She listened to cool bands, like The Pixies. She looked bad-ass, with unquestionably more fashion sense than the average Ohio suburban teenager. Not quite ‘grunge’, not quite ‘emo’… she could just could rock a leather jacket and eyeliner.
But more than anything right now, Naomi was upset.
“My mother’s awful! She never takes anything I do seriously.”
Naomi paced the room, eyes still a bit red. She’d stopped crying by the time I’d arrived, but a couple sniffles and the slight streak of makeup gave it away immediately.
“Well, that’s not true. She liked when I joined track, though she was pissed it wasn’t cheerleading.” There was a slight sneer in her voice.
It was difficult to picture Naomi with pom-poms, cheering at a pep rally. To be clear, she was in great shape and definitely had the body. With her ripped jeans and Not that I’d ever tell her, but her figure
“Did I ever tell you what my mother did the day of the SAT? She scheduled us a spa day! I had been talking about it all week, but first thing Saturday morning…”
She put a hand on her (not insignificant) hips, flipped her hair and puckered her lips. “Naomi, you no need to take this Es-Ay-Te.”
I winced a bit. Even if it was dead accurate, it still made me uncomfortable when Naomi imitated her mother’s heavy accent.
The first time I saw Naomi’s mother, it was actually at a cross country meet. Some random, impossibly fit woman, cheering and bouncing up and down in a tight blue dress. Who wears a dress like that to Bedford High School on weekend? Mrs. Junko Walcott, that’s who.
It wasn’t difficult to figure out who she was rooting for. Naomi was one of maybe six non-white students in our class. Even if the Asian MILF in the stands hadn’t been screaming her name, there was no way for Naomi to hide from the ridiculous woman.
I didn’t really know Naomi back then, and it was another year before the awkward blind-date at prom. When we made out on the couch and somehow, impossibly, started dating. I had no doubt it wasn’t going to last past the summer, just a post senior-year fling before we went to our respective schools in the fall.
“And now, even after I somehow made it into Brown, I’m going to lose my registration because she’s too busy to help me file the paperwork! She’s dropping Kat off at summer camp, then she’s at the gym…”
So we were alone in her bedroom, with no parent coming back for hours… I shifted slightly on her bed, trying to focus on the issue at hand. Trying not to think with my dick, which was ashamedly difficult to do.
“Ryan… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to drag you into this.” She flopped down next to me and gave me a hug. “My mother has always been a shitty mom, I shouldn’t let her get to me. I should know better.”
“No, it’s fucked up,” I assured her. “I can’t imagine my parents… anyone’s parents blowing off their kid like that. My dad threw a party when I got into State. State.”
She sighed. “I really don’t know how I can be so different from my mother. She’s such an airhead! Ugggh!”
“Forget her,” I said, trying to sound confident. “We can do this. I’ll help you.”
She looked up with the first smile I’d seen since I arrived. “Seriously? You’re ok with spending the day helping your girlfriend fill out forms? I don’t even know where half the stuff I need is…”
“It’s cool. I know someone really smart who can help,” I learned in and fake-whispered. “She got into Brown.”
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