Exes & Ohs

Jack (Daniels) & Charles(ton)

Odette isn't wearing any pants. If she were a tad more sober, she would probably be thankful that her legs are unscarred. She's never let herself cut her legs, or anywhere on her body that is too easily hidden. She knows that once she starts there, she'll never be able to stop. She hates her legs; wants her thighs to be the size of her calves maybe even smaller, even though they don't even touch.

She's dancing on a table, in some faded 90s band tee and red silk underwear, they are trimmed with black lace. Ethan makes a point of not looking at the lace. She's singing, badly, to some song that he doesn't really recognize. He is pretty sure he earlier heard Betsy describe it as "the unofficial bootleg soundtrack to Fear Nights.". Apparently one day while the girls were still meandering around New York City, they found and (illegally) downloaded all the songs. Betsy left a while ago after she received some odd hushed phone call. A nondescript sedan picked her up. He thought it was weird, but he barely knew her; he wouldn't be surprised if Betsy is just more secretive than Odette is.

Odette is weird about her secrets, it's almost as if she doesn't have any. She is very open about her self destructive ways, she says it's part of being a creative nonfiction writer, that if she can't be honest about it to those around her, she'll never be able to share her stories with the world. He likes that, he finds a lot of wisdom and sense in that; but at the same time, Ethan wonders if it is a ploy at either pushing people away or making it easier for her to hide worse secrets. He shudders at thought of a secret worse than intentionally hurting yourself.

Adam is playing one of his bands' hits, some tune about knowing what it is like to live forever because love lives forever or something. Ethan isn't sure, even when he's sober the song lyrics don't make much sense to him. Odette stops the agonizingly sultry wiggling of her hips, she bites her lips and looks Adam dead in the eye.

"I know what it's like to live forever." she says.

At first Ethan thinks it'll end up being some joke about the vampire he plays on TV. But what she says next takes his breath away. "Immortality is in the ink stains that decorate the paper that liters the floor of my bedroom."

Adam stops playing, "That's deep girl." he replies with a smile. Ethan wants to clap, no snap, to break the silence because that lone sentence is a poem. He hesitates, and Odette simply shrugs before continuing her sexy sway.

Ethan can't explain it, he knows that Odette is gorgeous but never before has he felt so, so affected by words. Her phrases produced such an impact on him that he could not comprehend it. Every syllable she uttered seemed so profound. Her intelligence could so easily be intimidating, and while first approaching her was quite the daunting task, carrying a conversation with Odette felt more natural than the beating of his heart. He felt this desire to write poetry about how poetic she was.

But he isn't a poet; Could not fathom the words to do her justice. Maybe he'd ask her to help him, he quietly chuckles to himself at the thought of asking her to write a stanza about the way he sees her. The way she alters his existence just by breathing. He would never ask that of her though, because if he did he'd have to explain what she did to him. It would be inappropriate, he has only known her for a few months and he has a girlfriend.

A girlfriend who was by his side last time he checked. Ethan had no idea where Xana had gotten off to, and he found that he didn't really care. He was content watching Adam perform to the small gathering of people that were at his house, happy to try and fail to refrain from observing Odette's dancing. At some point Lindsay, who is also without pants, joins Odette on the table. Ethan looks down at his own naked torso and remembers that that was the theme of the party, pants or shirts. The girls are doing what he believes is the Charleston, and that in his opinion sums up why there is a girl in her underwear drunkenly dancing on his table and it isn't trashy.