Break

The students are getting a break due to the college having to do some remodeling. They are going to take full advantage of the situation.

The clock ticked seconds away, like a metronome, it's steady rhythm mixing with that of the man pacing in front of the room. His gray suit blended into the dark walls behind him, adding to the monotony. The lights were dimmed, a presentation was on the board behind him, as slides shifted tediously. Fifty-seven students sat in the classroom in the raised half moon. Some listened, others slept, a few doodled, one even played with their phone under the desk. Social Science was a boring class to most of the students, especially with a professor like Dr. Stephen McLauren. He put the bor- in boring.

Finally the bell rang and the professor looked up, watching the students scramble for their books and notes. “Remember to read the required material and I expect to have the thesis for your material sent to me before you all return from break.” He stated, watching the mass of bodies groan as if they were all of one common mind. He leaned over his desk and saved his files, removed his flash drive and stored it in his pocket and sat down, knowing there was no reason to leave immediately. He would have been trampled anyway.

“What took ya so long?” asked a girl, leaning against the wall outside of the classroom marked 201. She had bright purple hair pulled up into a pony tail, mini skirt and a torn shirt that looked like it had been pulled out of a rockers trash pile. She smirked, chewing gum loudly, watching her friend finally exit the dreaded classroom. She stood up, stretching. “I thought I was going to melt into the wall and become a permanent fixture if you took any longer.” She groaned, hefting her shoulder bag farther up over her arm, her tattoo flashing a skull with a rose in it's mouth saying 'show me a good time matey'.

“Yeah yeah. Well, he wouldn't let us go early. You know how it is,” was the reply. A woman in straight pressed jeans, a nice t-shirt, and jacket was a complete contrast to the girl who had been waiting on her. She chuckled, shaking her blonde hair, the perfect ponytail bouncing slightly. “I thought I was going to die if I had to listen to anything more about how,” She put her hands on her hips and paced a few steps forward, “Society is due to crumble because of lack of communication because of social breakdowns.” She pointed her finger at her friend. “It is a lack of open communication because of religion, race, and a breakdown in”

A throat cleared behind them. “If you are well and finished butchering my lessons you might want to actually take time to really read the notes.” Dr. McLauren stood in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring down at both of the young women in front of him. “You have a full two weeks to do so, and I truly hope you do better in figuring out your thesis on Middle Eastern policies on foreign trade a lot better than what you were just explaining to your friend here.” He sighed. “Good afternoon ladies.” He turned pulling the door shut behind him, made sure it was locked and walked off, shaking his head. Youth these days just did not understand the importance of social science and how much it truly entailed.

Both girls snickered. “Come on,” the purple haired girl finally got out between chuckles. “We don't get out of here soon, we are going to have a search party after us.” With that, the mismatched pair walked down the hallway together, chatting about their classes.

The doors to the campus opened and out walked the two girls, caught in the throng of the other students vying for freedom. A two week break, they were excited. Cars pulled out of the lots, tires squealing. “Hey, watch it you B*****d!” yelled Sara as she stepped out into the parking lot, stomping her knee high boots madly. She shook her purple hair, flashing her middle finger as the Porsche sped past her. “Come back so I can kick you!” she yelled at the car. “You need a nice boot sized dent up your exhaust pipe!” She continued to wave her single finger salute, her friend turning red at her friend's display. She continued walking, trying to look inconspicuous.

“Sara, the car is gone. Quit making a scene.” Her friend said softly, shaking her head. She wished she could disappear and kept walking, her heels clacking loudly on the pavement under her. She looked over at her upset friend, wishing she would just come on. “Just let it go...you can remember the car and like put sugar in it's tank or something after break.”

Sara laughed. “You are an evil b***h. I knew I liked you for a reason.” She turned, dropped her salute after one final round about and jogged to catch up. “Pretty looks and an evil mind. She looked up at her blonde friend, even with the boots she was a few inches shorter. “I'm like a bulldog. I got to have a bark to back up my bite.” She chuckled, shaking her head. She waved, seeing the camaro and the truck parked out in the back of the lot. “There they are!” Sara jogged forward, leaving her friend behind, anger forgotten, slinging her arms around a tall guy against the camaro.

“Sup!?” He asked, laughing. “What the hell was all that about?” He motioned towards the other end of the parking lot.

“You could hear that?” Sara asked, cocking her head. She leaned into the car, throwing her bag in.

“The entire parking lot could hear that,” replied Susan, the blond, finally catching up. She threw her bag into the truck, leaning against it. “That's why I was asking you to not make a scene.” She crossed her arms, grabbed a cigarette and lit it up.

Sara jumped up a little, sitting on the hood of the older Camaro, legs swinging slightly. She shook her head. “Well, maybe next time they will watch where they hell they are going!” she snorted, not backing down on her anger at all. “I should have made a bigger scene. I bet daddy is paying for their entire ride, car, all of it.” She growled under her breath.

“Calm down,” the guy next to her chuckled softly, leaning over and petting her hair. “Shhhh.” he smiled, his rolled up checked sleeves and tanned skin in complete contrast against her.

She laughed. “Seriously? Am I outnumbered here?” She looked around at the others who were walking up. “Am I not allowed to have any anger issues on almost getting run over by a candy a*s apple red Porsche?” She snorted. “Who's coming to my funeral if they succeed next time?”

Dillon laughed again. “Hey, watch it. You'll scratch the paint and then I'll be having to get mad and give you short people problems.” He told her looking at the buckles on her skirt and boots against the matte finish of his car. “That paint ain't cheap.” He ran his fingers over his car, smiling.

Sara frowned, shaking her head, “Seriously?” She jumped down. She stared at him. “I almost get hit and you are gonna worry about your paint job?” She put her hands on her hips and stared up at him.

Dillon stared down at her, frowned for a moment then burst out laughing. “Yes. Exactly.” He couldn't keep a straight face. It was totally worth what came next.

A hand slammed across his cheek with a loud slap. Sara turned away from him and got in the passenger side, arms crossed. Dillon doubled over laughing. Susan laughed. The others that had just walked up looked dumbfounded, then laughed at the welt on Dillon's face. “Alright. To my place. See ya there.” With that, Dillon walked over to the driver's side door, got in and with a loud roar, the car sprang to life.

Sara pouted in the passenger side, arms crossed in front of her. She slouched down. “Seat belt,” Dillon broke the silence for a moment. “You can be mad all you want, you're still cute, but you still have to wear a seat belt.” He shift the gear into drive and squealed out of the parking lot, knowing the others would follow close behind.

Sara groaned, not wanting to say a word. She slowly sat up, grudgingly pulling her seat belt over her chest. She looked out the window, using the side view mirror to see the hand print on her boyfriend's face. She frowned, realizing she had hit him harder than she had meant to. She was too proud to apologize. Plus, he had deserved it, she told herself. She groaned again, slouching back into the racing seat, which was hard to do. She looked rather silly, which prompted another laugh from Dillon next to her.

The tall blonde, green eyed, playboy next to her smiled. “You look so ridiculous,” he said through a chuckle. “You try that any more and you might either succeed into falling into the floorboard...or choking yourself on the seat belt.” He ran his fingers through his hair, flashing his perfect smile. He was a law school major, full scholarship, could have had any of the girls on his arm. Somehow he had ended up with Sara, he looked over at her and smiled. He didn't regret it one moment. Moments like this made him realize how great it was.

“Jerk,” She muttered, glaring at him. She slowly sat up, refusing to be cute. She pulled her shirt down, straightening it, pushed her skirt out as straight as it would go, and fluffed up her hair. She then went back to looking out the window. Her mind was on break. Two weeks, two whole weeks, it was going to be great. No classes, she would wait for the last day or two to panic and do her class work. Otherwise, party, sleep, Dillon...it would be great. She peaked a glance over at him then quickly back out the window, not wanting to stop being mad just yet.

Slowly the road turned from the main stretch and down the long private drive. His car roared down the perfectly manicured driveway, their friend's truck on their tail. Trees lined the road like soldiers, large rocks dotting the pavement right along the side of the road. It took a while for them to make their way to the final stretch but soon they pulled through the final archway and into the courtyard, around the large fountain and parked in front of the manor. Dillon looked over at Sara and smiled, undoing his seat belt. “You done pouting yet?” He asked, her opening his door.

Sara looked up, undoing her seat belt and slowly unfurled her legs. She didn't answer him as she got out of the car stretching as she watched her friends get out of the truck behind them. She looked over the car at Dillon and sighed. “I suppose,” she answered him shrugging as she walked towards the wall of hedges towards the large house. She knew the bags would be brought in for her so didn't even bother. She had made that mistake in that past.

Susan raised an eyebrow at Dillon who shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. “What did you do now?” She asked, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she fell in behind Sara.

“What makes you think I did a damn thing?” He asked her, snorting, mortified.

Susan shook her head, her boyfriend walking up behind her, wrapping his hand around her waist. She leaned into him and she giggled, following Sara up the passageway. Her boyfriend was taller then her, jet black hair, leather jacket and torn dirty jeans; the perfect bad boy to her clean cut look. “Ready for a good week?” He asked her, leaning into her.

“Week?” She asked, looking up at him, trusting him to lead her. She giggled. “You mean two weeks, right?” She chuckled, teasing him as they all stopped in front of the main entrance.

Dillon walked up, smirking at Sara and leaned over, kissing her cheek before she could say anything and opened the door, letting them all into the foyer. The four of them entered the manor home, shoes resounding loudly on the polished hard wood floors. He threw his keys on a table in the corner. “Hang your jackets over there,” he pointed at a large rack built into the wall, “and put your keys over there, Scott.” He pointed to a crystal bowl on the table he had tossed his keys moments earlier, hanging his jacket on the rack.

He waited a moment for them all to put their jackets up then lead them through the foyer and into the den, which was normal as far as the rest of the house went. It had a large red leather couch, a television that was easily eighty inches, surround sound built into the ceiling, multicolored lights that changed via a control built into the wall. Dillon had designed the room as he had used this one to do his main entertaining. There was a small bar in the corner, whiskey and other dark liqueurs dotting a cabinet, wine in a cooling cabinet, along with many glasses and an ice chest. A few other chairs were scattered among the room.

Dillon walked over and threw himself on the couch, petting next to him for Sara to join him. She frowned for a second before moving to plop next to him and settling back against him. Susan and Scott made their way to the love seat in the corner. They all giggled and knew they had the house to themselves for the next day or so, before Dillon's family returned from their trip to England and planned to make full use of it. Dillon's green eyes lit up for a moment.

“I know what we have to do,” He stated, excitedly. “For our break.” He licked his lips and leaned forward, holding Sara against him. “I found an old house. About an hour from here...”He let the silence fill the room for a minute before continuing. “I can get us in. I say we hold a party. All our friends. I can supply all we want. Even get a DJ.” He looked at all of them. “This is our last year at the college. We should go all out.”

He waited and watched as the idea settled on everyone's minds. Sara leaned back against him, and he knew she was just along for the ride. Susan frowned. “Trespassing, breaking and entering....”

Scott interrupted her mid sentence, as if she was just making it sound more and more appealing. “Let's do it.” He smiled and Dillon and his eyes met and they knew they had a party to plan.

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar issues. Completed, updated. Rough draft.