-Andy Warhol
This. Set. Sucks.
Serena
LFRC
 
[RP]
Current State of Serena
Listening to: "The Hardest Button to Button" by the White Stripes
Mood: Tired
Hair: Down
Makeup: Smokey eye
At: The Yankee's game
Hanging out with: The filthy rich
Currently: In her front-row seat watching the game
 
I hate baseball games.
 
It's loud. It's much too loud. Everyone's screaming. It's impossible to sleep there, especially if you stayed out all last night drinking much more then you could handle. Which was exactly what happened. The stadium was filled with pervs, all they wanted was to get into your Balmain pants.
All the food there was unhealthy. I had to keep my figure no matter what.
 
The worst part was that my ex was there.
 
My ex. My fucking ex-boyfriend who I wasn't over. We'd been going out for a year. An amazing year.
 
We'd been split for three months, and I still wasn't over him. I was pathetic.
 
He'd had a girlfriend named Molly for the past two months and they were in love.
 
"Serena, get us some fries." said Blair, seated next to me. She could eat all the fatty foods in the world, and it still wouldn't affect her figure. That skinny biitch. [Though I still love you.]
 
I didn't want to. I had spotted ex at the door of the game with his whorre. I was sure he hadn't recognized me, but I couldn't go.
 
I had no idea why, but then I got up.
 
"You're lucky I'm doing this." I told B.
 
I pulled my ray-bans over my face, though it was 7:30 PM. I didn't look straight up either. He surely wouldn't recognize me if I accidently passed him.
 
I heard the hard clicking of Molly's Alexander Wang fringe heels on the cement 15 yards away. She didn't walk, she stomped. And she always wore those heels. I knew the only people besides my friends who would wear heels to a baseball game was Molly, who was 23. Ex was 20. I didn't see her face, but I knew it was her.
 
I kept my face down, hoping ex wouldn't recognize me.
 
I glanced up. They were five feet away from me. Holding hands, looking like they were deeply in love like they were. Molly's brown, almost black straight locks were touching her buttt. Her body was skinny, almost frail-looking, and she was taller then Ex, who was 6'2. She modeled quite a bit. I had seen her in several shows last February.
 
Ex, on the other hand, was looking extremely sexy. He was taller then me, by three inches. He looked a bit embarrassed to being shorter then Molly, but he was happy. He was grinning.
 
Molly burst into laughter at ex's joke, as she walked passed me. I, on the other hand, was walking extremely quickly to the French Fry stand, 20 yards away at the time.
 
I didn't think they recognized me. I almost ran back to my seat after I had bought fries for Blaire.
 
No one knew I was jealous of Molly. No one knew who ex was.
-Serena
 
[A very boring, uneventful story.]