1.7 Falling Fast

Jackie: "Alright, I'll come, but then I think I may go home." I can't stay here any longer. I don't want to give him any false hope. But I do wish it was a date...

He's pretty quiet as we get into his car, an old beat up yellow thing. I notice something stuck between the dash and the windshield on the passenger side. I reach to get it. "What's this?" I say as I grab it, it being a small bottle of nail polish. His grip on the wheel tightens. "A memento from my ex," he says, deadly quiet. Oh. Now I know why he does what he does. I'm silent for a couple seconds. "Well, this is an ugly shade anyway," so I throw it out the window. I see him smile just a little bit.

Dinner's pretty good, even though we just go to a little diner. After we pay (separately), he walks out the door without even waiting for me. "Hey, what gives?" I tease him.

He turns. "It's just--it's nothing," he says quickly. "Don't worry about it. Let's go home." He starts to walk to the car.

Bryce: I can't be in this diner any longer. I totally forgot that this was the chain where I learned everything that happened. It was only when I saw the check that I remembered. God, fuck her. I walk out. I can't stay in there. "Hey, what gives?" I hear Jackie's voice behind me. Should I tell her? "It's just-" NO. Not yet. "It's nothing, don't worry about it. Let's go home." I turn to walk to the car and she follows. The ride home is silent. When we're close to home, she speaks up. "I'll walk you back upstairs, I wanna do one final spot check before I leave," That's fine. Stay as long as you want. I nod.

After she checks all the nooks and crannies of my apartment one last time, she gets ready to go. "Thanks for doing this for me, it means a lot." God, please don't leave. I really don't want you to go. "Anything I can get you before you go?" Anything, please say something.

"No thanks, I think I'll just be on my way. Call me if you need help, if you need someone to talk to, or if you just want to hang out." Fuck. No. She reaches to give me a hug goodbye.

I can't take it anymore. I wrap my arms around her and bring her up to me in a kiss. She doesn't really seem into it at first, but then she relaxes. Please don't go.

Jackie: I hate that I wanted this. But God, he's such a good kisser. I tense up and then let go. This is the last time, I may as well make it count.

He lets me go. "Shit, Jackie, I'm so sorry. I know you don't want to do this, but I like you. You're the only girl I've liked since my ex, and she fucked me up bad. I'm sorry, I just had to get that out of my system."

I stare up at him. His eyes are frantic, eyebrows knit. He means it. "It's okay." Okay, this is really the last time.

I pull him back to me in one last, final kiss. I try to tell him that in this kiss, that this is the last time. He seems...almost desperate. I feel so bad, my heart almost breaks. He's really unraveling, isn't he. But I can't be around for this. He needs to shape up without me. And then I'll let this happen. But until then, no. I pull apart from him. "Goodbye, Bryce." I gather my things and leave. I try not to cry as I briskly walk back to my own apartment, one block away.
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Thanks to mypalsim1 and others at MTS for the poses!

1.6 Recognition

Jackie: I wake up at about six AM and make my way out to Bryce's couch. I begin to think. I swore to myself I wouldn't get caught up in drugs again when I sobered up. This is not good. I can't be involved with him. I need to get out of here. But he needs serious help with his problem...

Bryce: Oh man, my head hurts. What happened last night? Where's my hair and beard? I need some coffee or something. I get up to go to the kitchen. That's when I see her, and my memories come rushing back. My stomach drops. I had sex with Jackie.

"Hey," I say awkwardly as she heads toward the door. "Hey," she says, not looking me in the eye. I'm perplexed. "Wanna have some breakfast? I bet you're starving," I say, much to my own surprise. I never invite a girl over for breakfast. But she looks upset, and I don't want her to be upset.

She looks at me. God, even without makeup, she's beautiful. Something in her expression changes. "Sure, why not." She doesn't say it like a question. "As long as I'm here, I may as well make sure you don't get into any trouble." As long as you're around. "Alright, awesome! I'm gonna go get dressed and then whip something up." "You cook?" She sounds surprised. "Yeah, when I have the time," I reply.

I make some pancakes and we both take plates. I feel a familiar tug pulling at my body and my brain. "Look, can I just have one cigarette? I really need one," I plead with her. She looks at me sternly.

"No, not even just one. You need to kick this habit and I'm going to help you." I look down and smile. As long as it meant we'd be spending time together. Before I look up, she starts talking.

"Look, I'm sorry if I've been acting weird today. It's just, in light of what happened last night, I feel like I have some things to tell you. I know that you have some feelings for me, still. I can tell. I'm sorry to call you out on that like this, but I'm not going to lead you on. I was really fucked up when I was in high school. With drugs and stuff, I mean. I made myself a promise to never go back to that lifestyle and it's worked fine for me. And I like you, I think you're a really cool guy, but I can't be around this lifestyle you have. So we can be friends, but nothing more. I'm really sorry, I just needed to get that off my chest," she sighs. My stomach drops. I guess I had kind of resigned myself to the idea that I liked her when I asked her to eat, but I never thought about how she felt. "That's fine," I feel myself smiling. "Let's just hang out as friends. Excuse me."

I get up and go downstairs to check my mail. Nothing, I knew there would be nothing. I just didn't want to be up there feeling like that. I have a girl in my apartment, the only girl I've liked since my ex, and she doesn't want anything to do with me. That hurts, man. But then I get an idea. What if I just quit partying altogether? No, that's too hard. But I want to be with her, and if that's all she requires...

I head back upstairs. I tell her that if she wants to stay and keep an eye on me, she can help herself to anything in my apartment, that I need to practice some lines. I just stare at myself in the mirror.

"You can do it. You can quit. You can be with her. It's all within reach," I whisper to myself. I stare at myself some more. This is going to take a lot of determination. I check my watch. Holy shit, it's already night time?

Jackie: I feel so bad for calling him out like that. I just needed to tell him that. He's a good guy deep down. Would I be with him if things were different, if he was clean? Yeah, yeah I would. But he's nowhere close to being clean yet. But if he doesn't mind, I think I'll stick around. I just want to make sure he's okay this first day.

Bryce: I exit my room and see her using my old, decrepit easel. Out of all the things in my apartment, I didn't think she'd take to this one. "Jackie?"

She turns to face me. "What's up, Bryce?" "I'm going to go get some dinner, do you wanna come? Don't worry, I'll just pay for myself, so it won't be a date," I joke. She gives me a half smile. "Alright, I'll come, but then I think I may go home." My heart leaps. "That's fine, that's great!"

1.5 I Won't Blackout

We're standing outside my building. That bottle of water really helped, back in the club. Jackie's looking at me like she's worried. "I think I better help you back up to your apartment," she says, concerned. "Thaa-at's fine," I hiccup. Man, she's pretty.

Jackie: He is wasted. I can see it in his face. That face. God, I hate that I'm attracted to him; I've been trying to stay away from junkies for years and he's ruining me. But I owe it to him to help him tonight, because he can't help himself. "I think I better help you back up to your apartment," I say. He slurs an approval and I guide him into the elevator and back to his...

Bachelor pad. I'll be damned if this isn't a bachelor pad. He's just swaying there, staring at me. I need to help him out. "You need to clean this all up; and cut your hair," I say to him. He laughs. "Seriously." I stare at him.

Just in the kitchen I can see an ashtray, stray pills, and an empty vodka bottle. I help him clean up I throw out the bottles and flush the pills. Then I find his bathroom and give him a nice haircut and shave. He desperately needed one, and thank God I took some cosmetology classes in college. We step back out into the living room. I get ready to go; he doesn't need me here anymore. It'd be bad if I stay; I know I couldn't resist.

"You should be good, Bryce. Call me if you need anything." I hug him and he hugs me back, tight. He has a nice back.

"Don't go," he whispers in my ear as I start to let go. "I think I have to," I reply, sadly. I really don't, but I know what's good for me.

"I mean it. Don't go." He looks into my eyes. His eyes are a piercing blue. I didn't notice that before. I wish I hadn't noticed it now. "Bryce, I-"

Suddenly, he kisses me. Shit. After a few seconds, I relax into it. Fuck it. I kiss him back. He tastes like cigarettes and vodka. Okay, seriously, fuck it. I am here with a cute boy in his apartment and I am going to live life to the fullest, dammit. Isn't that why I moved to Bridgeport in the first place? Besides, it won't lead to anything else. He's Bryce Reed. "Wanna go back to my room?" He asks quietly. Where's that Reed charm? I think about it for a few seconds. "Yes."

Bryce: Holy shit holy shit holy shit I did it. I fucking kissed her! This is great. She is a great fucking kisser. Why didn't I do this sooner. Wait. No. I don't like girls! But she's so different from-NO. Yes. No? Yes. Yes. Yes. "Wanna go back to my room?" I choke out. Silence. I think my heart's gonna jump out of my throat. "Yes." YES.

I slide onto one side of the bed and she does the same on the other. "You sure about this? No backing down now," I smile. I don't know why I said that. I'm pretty drunk. "Yeah. Let's do this." She sends me a sly smile and leans over to me.

Holy shit. Maybe I should have just turned on that Reed charm when I accidentally ran into her apartment. Holy shit!
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I got inspiration for the dual POV's from reading mypalsim1's A Story With No Title. That's a great read :)

1.4 Don't I Know You?

I've given up on making my bed. It's always messed up, and I don't really have a problem with that.

Yeah, that's the tattoo Lola Belle gave me. That was a funny night. My hair's grown out a little bit in these past few weeks. I just don't have the desire to cut it. I don't really care. I grab some cereal out of the fridge. I've been eating cereal forever. It's the only thing in the fridge.

I call my dealer before I head out. It's Saturday. "Hey, where are you? I wanna come support consumerism." There's silence on the other end, followed by a click, and a dial tone. What the fuck? Suddenly, I hear a knock at my door. I get it. It's William, that guy who greeted me when I first moved in, in a cop uniform. I guess he's a cop. Fuck. I've got bottles and shit strewn about my apartment.

I move out of his way as he glances around and finally sits in my desk chair. "Hello, sir," I stammer. "Shut it. I know you've got illegal narcotics in here. It's a shame, watching you in this downward spiral. I'm not here to arrest you, my shift just ended. I'm here to say get your shit together. Seriously. We don't need another bright kid like you locked up for drugs. Get your shit together." He gets up and leaves without another word. I laugh to myself. Like I'll listen to him, I do what I want.

Another week or so passes. My hair's grown extremely long now, but like I said, I just don't care enough to trim it. I don't care about a lot these days. I made pancake batter the other day and I'm still reaping the benefits which is nice, I guess. I had to find a new dealer after that whole cop debacle, so I end up on my way to meet her.

She works at this little coffeeshop down the road. I drive there and walk up to her and whisper: "You know what I'm here for." She nods and shows me a bag filled with assorted pills. I count out my cash, but I hear something behind me as soon as the deal's about to go down. "Bryce!"

It's that redhead! I gulp. I haven't seen her in months. I turn and sit down at the table she's sitting at. She's in athletic gear; I guess she just went on a run. Damn, she has a nice body, I notice. "What's up....ah....?" I look at her for some help. I guess she never told me her name. "Jackie Dyer," she smiles. "That's a cool name. Listen, Jackie, I feel pretty bad about running into your apartment. Is there any way I can make it up to you?" I reach for my wallet in my back pocket. The least I can do is give her some cash. "No no no no! I don't want any money. I don't care, really." She quickly assures me. "I think you're the only person in Bridgeport who doesn't care about money," I joke. She laughs and smiles again. She has a nice smile. Wait, what? Stop. You don't like girls. You fuck girls, but you hate girls. Remember? I ignore the voice and keep talking to her.

"There's gotta be something I can do. Come on," I say to her. She shrugs. "I really don't want anything!   I told you," she laughs again. "Free drugs?" I whisper. "No thanks. Sober." Respect. "Alright, well at least let me take you out. Let's have some fun." I suggest. Maybe if I fuck her this feeling will go away.

She gets up. So do I. "Where are we going? The salon? Because you, sir, need a haircut," she jokes. "Haha, funny. No, I'm going to the club, you still want in?" She shrugs again. "Sure, I'm down. Let me run home first and grab some clothes and shower." "That's fine, I'll wait for you outside the Simset."

I change into my suit and wait for her. She walks out in this little black dress, and shit. She's so damn pretty. And I can actually see her eyes, for once. I try to avert my eyes so it doesn't look like I'm staring as she walks toward me. "You clean up nice, Dyer," I turn on my signature charm. She smirks. "You kinda look like a caveman trying to disguise himself in society." I roll my eyes. "You are so damn snarky." She laughs. "I'd hope so. Too many girls are afraid to say what they're thinking." And guys. Shut the fuck up, Bryce.
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Fuck. I drank too much tonight, is the only thing I can think as I stumble back into the lobby of the club. Jackie's there already. She looks up when she sees me and I straighten up. "Heeeeyyy," I declare. "Oh shit, we're getting you home right away. Here." She hands me a bottle of water. "Chug it. Down the whole thing, now." I do as she says.

"After you." It's all I can do to get into the elevator.

1.3 Pickling My Liver

Weeks pass. You know the deal; I work hard during the day, and I play hard at night. I usually catch a small bite at my place since it's between the clubs and the set. I've been getting a bit of recognition in the business recently, which is nice. Whatever pays the rent. I've also pretty much thrown my "sober" label out the window. There's just too much to do in this city and let's be real, being sober drags down the parties I go to. It's not a good thing, but I can stop whenever I want, so it's no big deal. I scarf the rest of this salad down and head out to a dance club a few blocks away.

After ordering a few drinks, I start dancing on the floor with this girl. Not to brag, but we're probably the best in the place. After a few hours of this dancing, we get to it in the less-used bathroom on the second floor. She asks if I want her number. I say no. She angrily exits the bathroom, and I presume the club. I make my way back downstairs.

I order more drinks and stand on the edge of the floor, lighting a cigarette. I'm too drunk to care. Ugh. I hate the way all the girls act in this town. You'd think there'd be at least one girl here who gets me. And for some goddamn reason, they all wear those fucking weird glasses! I laugh to myself. Well, not that one girl. Not that redhead. I wonder what she's up to. I smile and take a drag. I go home a few minutes after that.

One day, as I'm driving home from work, I notice something on my dash. It's a small bottle of nail polish, lodged between the dash and the windshield. Navy blue. I gnash my teeth and grip the steering wheel hard, until my knuckles gleam white. Fuck her. Fuck girls. Maybe I need to go see a shrink.

Later that night, I practically shit my pants. Lola Belle comes over to me at the club and starts flirting. With me. Whaaaaat?! She's really fucking famous! I guess word really is getting out about me. "Hey cutie," she says to me, looking at me through those signature Bridgeport glasses. "Hey yourself," I grin.  I'm sure you can imagine how riveting the rest of that conversation went. I have no idea who the fuck that guy in white is. He walks away after a few minutes, though. Probably some pap.

"I'm starved," Lola announces. I chuckle. "I'll buy you a drink and some bar food." We go in on our purchases when I start to make my move. Lola is agreeable. We stumble out the door, and after a few minutes of making out in the car, get on the road. Fuck. Drunk driving is hard. I drive for a few minutes. Suddenly Lola freaks out. "Stop the car!" I parallel park (shitty). "Come in here." She drags me into a dark building, thrusts me in a chair, and rips my clothes off.

"I like where this is going," I purr. Suddenly I hear a buzzing. Then, INTENSE PAIN. I cry out. "FUCK!" Lola shhh's me. "Go with it. This'll look so badass." She's giving me a fucking tattoo. Oh my god. Eh, whatever. She's right anyway. After an hour of pain, we go back to my place.
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I've quit going home between work and the bar. Now I just eat dinner there too. That's messed up, huh?
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One night, when I'm feeling particularly drunk, I make a dumb phone call. "Yooo, operator! You list apartment numbers for the Simset?....Well fuck that, I don't got the time for that." I hang up. Whadda bitch.

Disappointed, my mind starts wandering. Wasn't I supposed to meet someone here? Oh yeah, my dealer. "Hey! What gives? I'm at that little watering hole you told me to go to....Alright, well be here soon. Bye."
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This one's kinda short, sorry :( It just is because I forgot to take a lot of pictures when he was out.