James. The genius boy with blonde hair that drove Fleur crazy. How could a person make her feel so much?
Before James, she didn't think she could feel anything at all. Fuck, was she wrong. He made her feel nothing and everything all at once.
The many tattoos on her exterior truly betrayed her internal appearance- she was a sensitive nineteen year old girl who shut everyone out to protect herself. Her mother had always warned her of the dangers of the world. Well that was before the accident.
Fleur Davis's hair was purple. Her father hated it. Before she'd gone off to college, she'd vowed to never speak to him again. Since her mother's death, he'd never been the same. She didn't feel like dealing with his drunken state and have him curse her out.
Sex was the only thing keeping her going. It didn't matter who it was with. It didn't matter what she was trying to hide. However, most of the time, Fleur fucked to hide her emotions. Whenever someone had tried to get under her skin and figure her out, she would go mess around with someone else to force them out of her head. She felt no guilt.
College was freedom for her. She loved going to frat parties and hanging out with her drunken friends. They always seemed more fun when they were wasted. Sometimes, she would have to hold back their hair as they vomited nearby. There isn't a friendship greater than that.
But then she met James. James was so... pure. She liked those stupid, preppy clothes he wore. Who the fuck wore khakis and a striped shirt to class on a weekday? James. He was the only person that saw something different in Fleur. He had a future. She didn't.