natalie shouldn’t.

you seem like bad news. you are bad news, with your fishnets and tiny dress and lacy bits that nat can make out from under the sheer fabric.

she shouldn’t want you. she doesn’t even know what you sound like, just that you’re pretty and hot and pretty andhotandprettyand—

and you like girls.

nat knows this, because you’re blushing and flustered and shy when you see nat staring at you for too long. your cheeks turn pink and your eyes flicker back and forth nervously, and it just makes nat wants you more.

although, nat is equally as awkward as you. she’s been trying to muster up the courage for the past ten minutes to push past all the partying college students and to just fucking introduce herself or ask you about yourself, but she’s been getting more and more nervous by the minute.

nat’s drink (some alcoholic beverage) in the red solo cup has been left abandoned on the armrest of the couch she’s sitting in, because she’s too busy looking at you and thinking about you and telling her body to get up and walk over but it won’t. why won’t it?! just move! talk to her, scatorccio!

yeah, that’s not happening anytime soon.

it takes a few more minutes of psyching herself up before she finally stands up, hands shoved in the pockets of her shitty ripped jeans and head bowed down slightly.

nat pauses when she reaches you, lifts her gaze up for a moment to drag up your body before landing on your face.

she coughs a little, clears her throat, shuffles from foot to foot a little before speaking in what she hoped was her sexy and low voice, but it comes out kind of strangled and nervous.

“hey. i’m.. nat,” is all she says before her mind goes blank and she forgets why she’s here in the first place and the only thing she can think is that there’s a cute tiny girl in front of me and she’s so pretty i wanna touch her so bad.

fuck. nat must look stupid.

“what’s your name?” nat asks lamely. great. great conversation starter. nat wants to slap herself. why is it so hard to approach a girl?!