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i changed her name... and model... ahaha

NINA DAWSON
age: 20
style: skinny jeans, simple dresses, high-waisted shorts, messy hair, huge sunglasses
hometown: greater chicago, illinois
bio: growing up, nina was the brainy child of the dawson family. shy and softly spoken, she spent years blending into the background behind her rebellious brother, who always stole the attention. but as time wore on, nina found herself wanting some of the spotlight. to shake her goody-two-shoes tag, and be something other than ‘the smart girl’. the fact that she had outgrown her once awkward, gangly frame helped, too. once nina hit college, she turned into a completely different person – outgoing, cheeky, the life of the party. but nina is losing almost every aspect of her childhood self, and becoming something of a fake, empty shell of the bright, quirky girl she once was. her old friends no longer want anything to do with her, and her new crowd could hardly be called a good influence. her college lifestyle hasn't caught up with her yet, but it's only a matter of time until she lands herself in trouble. and who's going to be around to save her?
occupation: waitress/uchicago student/part-time model
music: childish gambino, simon & garfunkel, florence + the machine, t.i., billy joel
likes: riding her bike, her fake ID, lying in the sun, rowdy parties
dislikes: going to class, being ignored, studying, cold nights
looks: ulya trukhina
status: single


“And for next week, make sure you’ve read pages 313-355 of the textbook... ah, wait. We don’t have class next week. Never mind, then.”

The professor stood at the front of the class, adjusting his glasses at the end of his nose. My books were stacked in front of me – I hadn’t even opened one the entire class – as I fidgeted in my seat, ready to sprint out of the lecture hall. It was the last class before finals, and I could feel summer coming already.

We piled out of the room, a few hanging around to speak to the professor, while the sane among us made a beeline for the exits. My trusty bike steed was tied up close to the door, and I dumped the few books I’d brought in the wicker basket attached to the handlebars.

“Hey, do you have the notes from last week?”

I glanced up, coming face-to-face with the hot frat boy who’d always sat in the back of class. We’d had some serious eye contact flirting before, but never anything more than that.

“Uh... what makes you think I take notes?”

He broke out in a grin. “Dunno. I was hoping.”

“You should try one of the keen kids up the front,” I suggested, pointing to the stragglers who were beginning to emerge from the lecture hall. He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I guess. Good luck with the final.”

I strapped my helmet on, cursing the inevitable helmet hair I’d be facing once I got to work. 

“Yeah, you too.”

Leaving him in my wake, I pedaled off through campus, taking the familiar route to the lake. It was one of those days that you were thankful to live through - the days when everything felt right. Bar the few finals looming in the next two weeks, I had nothing but a long, hot summer to look forward to - no doubt, an interesting one.

I could ride to work with my eyes closed. And my place of employment - Cafe Society - greeted me with open arms each time I walked through the doors. Everything stayed the same there. The same hipster owners in their thirties, the other waitresses - all tattooed and ultra liberal - and the few cooks who spent far more time playing practical jokes than actually making food.

This was the typical day. Wake up late, go to class, take the afternoon shift at work. And then find a party to crash on campus - or, occasionally, attend one I was actually invited to. 

Not that I was ever a boring party guest.

But now, without the weight of actually having to wake up and study hanging over me - I was free. To focus on completely selfish things. Like where my next drink would be, and who my next hot make-out session would be with.

Well, there was the guy I'd left behind on campus.

But I was sure I'd see him again. And if not... there was always someone like him around the corner.

(ugh sorry farah this story sucks, i promise i'll do better when i actually have things to write for)
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