Over the past three months, Tajrin Holloway had wearied of living. She knew it was stupid, being only twenty one, she had her whole life ahead of her. Every day, Taj woke up thinking that everything was okay. Then, a few minutes later HE would cross her mind. She would push his stupid, cheating little person out of her head, but it would return, continually, throughout the day. By nightfall, Taj was reduced to a paralyzed mess. She could cry, because she knew she shouldn't. She couldn't scream, because there was no one to listen. And she couldn't be happy, no mater how hard she tried. Even when she was surrounded by other people, Taj was struck by moments of such agonizing misery that it felt like life would forever and after be so horrible.
She wondered when exactly life had become so horrible, so meaningless. At first, she'd thought it had happened when HE had first betrayed her, when HE had told her ever so softly that he'd kissed another girl and that he wanted to date her. Or maybe it was after, when HE'd told her that they couldn't talk when HE was with HER which was all the time. But maybe it had been even before that. Maybe she'd stopped living two and a half years before, when Taj had first taken up with HIM. She'd let HIM become a drug, and she'd lived the dreamy life of an addict. What kind of life was that? What kind of love was that? Obviously not real love, since HE'd left her for that BITCH.
So Taj woke up that morning, afternoon really, expecting another day of momentary peace followed by stinging memories of him. Another day of misery. And then she rolled over.
There was a boy in her bed. A naked boy. A boy with freckles smattered across his shoulders and hair like sand and wheat. He was sleeping rather soundly, with one arm that she hadn't noticed before slung across her waist.
Frantically, Taj glanced around, checking that she was in fact in her dorm room. Judging by the nasty old curtains and the millions of picture collages on the wall, it was. So who was he? She tried to remember the previous night. It was one of the rare Friday nights at Grimmerie Hollow University that Taj's friends had actually decided to go out. They'd gone to a club, even though Taj would have been just fine at a bar. Her friends weren't much for drinking however, so dancing it was to be. Taj remembered dancing, drinking the few drinks her friends would allow, and then dancing somemore. She remembered thinking of HIM and all the parties and fun she'd used to have with him. And then the bargirl had shown up with a drink.
Oh yes. That was where this boy had come from. His friend had bought her the drink. Unused to such attention, Taj had gone to thank his friend; a tall redheaded boy with dark, crazy eyes and a killer's grin.
"What's your name, honey?" the boy had asked, obviously drunk.
"Taj," Taj replied, still not sure how to act. Boys flirted with her, or they'd used to, before HIM. She wasn't sure she remembered how to flirt back.
"Well, Taj, m'dear. I am Mulligan Blue," he announced proudly, waving his arms in the air grandly.
"No, no, no," his sandy haired friend, the boy in her bed, had said, "Mate, YOU are a drunken slob."
"I am not," Mulligan had retorted, "Trat, tell him I'm not drunk."
"His royal highness is not drunk," Mulligan's other friend, a boy with the whitest blonde hair Taj had ever seen said, but discretely rolled his eyes.
"Well, his royal highness can kiss my bum, because I say he is. In fact, I'd bet I could drink him under the table in the next five minutes."
"I don't doubt it Ire," the blonde replied.
"I accept that challenge!" Mulligan declared, promptly backing it up with a loud burp. He glanced apologetically at Taj, who was sipping her drink and giggling.
"How rude," sandy haired boy had suddenly said, "Miss Taj, we haven't been introduced. I'm Irish Goodfellow. This is Tratsky Threader."
"Nice to meet you," Taj smiled.
"Would you like to see me outdrink Mulligan, or would it bore you terribly?" Irish inquired. Taj had giggled again. She liked Irish's eyes, a shifting blue-green-grey color that she couldn't quite place.
"I would love to see you outdrink Mulligan," Taj replied, and added at Mulligan's wounded look, "If you can."
They had a drinking contest, which Mulligan had survived farely well until a shot of tequila had done him in. Tratsky had begged him out of the next shot, saying that 'his royal highness' had to be taken home. Mulligan tried to convince Taj to come with, but she'd declined as politely as possible. She may have taken a few more shots herself, and her friends had vanished.
Irish had offered to help her find them, but they never had. So they had danced and talked and drank and danced and oh god. Taj glanced helplessly at the sandy haired boy. She'd only ever had sex before with HIM and now with a boy she barely knew. And she barely remembered the sex. HE had accused her of drinking and fooling around and then conveniently forgetting, but she'd loved HIM so much it had never happened. But now...
Irish stirred, his amazing eyes even more intriguing in the light.
"Well hello then," he muttered, sitting up, "And who might you be?"
"Um," Taj squeaked out, unaware if there was any protocol for boys who you'd slept with but didn't know.
"Oh right. Miss Taj."
"Just Taj is fine," Taj said, blushing. She pulled her comforter tighter around her own naked body, but Irish seemed content to let the whole purple mess slip dangerously low.
Suddenly, Taj heard a jingling in the door. Her roommate!
"Cover up!" Taj snapped, knowing full well that her roommate would freak if she found a naked boy in Taj's bed. Irish shrugged, making no move to cover anything. Before Taj could yell at him to do something, Eliza was in.
"Hey Taj," Eliza chirped, smiling, "You really slept well today. It's nearly three. What time did you get back."
"I can explain," Taj said.
"Explain what? Did you get back late? I didn't hear you come in," Eliza took off the hooded sweatshirt she'd been wearing. She obviously had been out running.
"Who?" Eliza blinked, "You aren't naked under there, are you? Gross, Taj."
Before Taj could say anything, Irish jumped out of bed. Stark naked he jumped in front of Eliza, twirling his bum and waving his hands in front of her face. Eliza didn't even blink.
If it had been anyone else, Taj would have thought this some sort of elaborate hoax. But Eliza was not the type to sit calmly while a naked boy gyrated his hips in front of her. In fact, Taj doubted Eliza had ever seen a naked boy. Her life was school.
"She can't see me," Irish turned, exposing his full glory to Taj, who cringed slightly.
"Yes what?" Eliza asked expectantly.
"Yes, I'm naked. God I was drunk last night," Taj laughed, but it came out horribly wrong. Eliza looked at her strangley.
"Ookay. I'm taking a shower then. You must be hung over."
After Eliza had left, Taj stared at Irish.
"She can't see you."
"I did say that, yes."
"But I can."
"I expect so, yes. That or you had one wild night with your comforter," Irish grinned cheekily.
"I must be insane."
"Nobody is completely sane, but you're much insane either."
Taj frowned. Leave it to her mind to imagine up a sassy boy, "You're invisible to my roommmate. That means you're not real."
"I'm real as you are," Irish replied, languidly crawling back into bed, "Say, want to go for another round?"
"I'll pass," Taj wondered why she was even bothering to talk to the imaginary boy. But it was hard to ignore him when he was sidling up to her with his warm skin and his good smelling hair and...
"Stop it would you," Taj snapped, "I need to gather myself so I can go see a counciller and explain that I'm seeing and sleeping with imaginary boys. This thing with Varagas must have really driven me over the edge."
A pang his her. Vargas. HIM. The first time she'd thought of HIM all morning. She'd known it would happen, yet everytime she was struck by the power of the pain that hit.
Taj winced, "My ex..."
"You don't sound too sure about that."
"Well we weren't technically dating when we...broke up. We had been dating, but a while before. He wanted time to be free. We were...fuck buddies. Turned out I was the one he didn't want to date; he had no problem dating another bitch. He was my best friend," she frowned, wondering why she was telling a stranger this.
"He broke your heart. So sad. Let Irish fix it, eh?"
"Excuse me? Imaginary friend say what?"
"Imaginary friend. I like that. Yes, that saves me an explanation. Lets just say I'm your imaginary friend."
(Yes. I know. My mind does weird things to cope with my life. Thus we have Absinthe...
Irish Goodfellow- Jester/Knave of the Autumn Court.
Tajrin Holloway- Normal, stupid girl. Okay, she's smart. But heartbroken and damaged, yay.
Mulligan Blue- Prince of the Autumn Court.
Tratsky Threader- Duke of the Autumn Court and ex-convict. <3
Priyanka Maylower- Princess of the Solstice Courts.
Charm Cutlass- Princess of the Winter Court.
McGee Blackwell- King of the Unseelie Court.
Vargas Patel- ex BFF/Fuck buddy of Taj.
Pyper Archen- bitch queen that Vargas took up with.
Charlie Thistledown- Princess of the Spring Court.
Madelyn Nightengale- Queen of the Seelie Court, of light and seed.
Atreyu Lionheart- Prince of the Summer Court.
Story takes place in Grimmerie Hollow, my new favorite town. Like Knightsridge, Grimmerie is a place of power- its corresponding towns are Boomtown and Shipwreck Grotto. It's located in New England.