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MidReal Story
Rid
Scenario:gigi was a 17 year old hopeless romantic and she was the sweetest purest girl anyone knew. she was also kind of clueless and didnt understand sarcasm most times and she could never truly be angry at anyone because she was not at all intimidating and she also had naturally pink wavy hair
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Delilah Palmer
naive, and dreamy. Delilah struggles to understand sarcasm and often takes people's jokes seriously. Her hair turns bright pink in humid weather, earning her nicknames like "Bubblegum" and "Pinkie." Despite her gentle nature, she stands up to bullies like Mason Griffin, showing her strength and determination. Delilah longs for romance and idealizes love, often finding herself in humorous misadventures.
Mason Griffin
sarcastic, and competitive. Known for his mean streak, Mason often uses his influence to bully others. Despite his harsh exterior, he shows curiosity about Delilah when she stands up to him in front of his friends. Mason's interactions with Delilah are laced with tension and banter, hinting at underlying complexities beyond his public persona.
Ridley McRyan
aloof, and strongminded. Ridley moves to a new town due to family changes, leaving him alone and unknown quantities on his past. His presence at school sparks intrigue among peers, especially Delilah. Ridley’s interactions are marked by an air of mystery, as he rarely opens up to others. His encounter with Delilah at a coffee shop reveals more about his personality than expected.
I was a sweet girl.
I was seventeen years old and, as far as I knew, I was still a virgin.
I had never even come close to being angry at anyone.
I didn’t understand sarcasm most of the time, and I usually took jokes quite literally.
I had no idea how to be mean, even when I wanted to be.
I was not at all intimidating, mostly because I was clueless as to how intimidation worked.
My hair turned bright pink in humid weather, which made me stand out like a sore thumb during the summer months.
People called me "Bubblegum" and "Pinkie" behind my back and sometimes to my face.
I didn’t mind.
I thought the nicknames were cute, and I loved anything cute.
I was a pure and simple soul with a heart full of love for everyone and everything in this world.
I was a hopeless romantic.
Walking between classes, I adjusted the straps on my backpack and tried not to bump into anyone else in the crowded hallway.
The rain from this morning had made my hair go from its usual strawberry-blonde shade to a cotton-candy pink, and it was sticking up in every direction.
As I passed the row of lockers, I heard footsteps behind me.
"Hey Bubblegum."
I turned around to see Mason Griffin standing there with his friends.
He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and his backpack slung over one shoulder.
He looked like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he found on the floor, which was probably exactly what he did.
His shaggy brown hair was pushed back off his forehead and curled around his ears, and his dark blue eyes were narrowed slightly as he looked at me.
The smirk that usually graced his lips was gone, replaced by a softer expression that I couldn’t quite place. "Your hair's extra bright today," he said, nodding toward my head.
"It's actually kind of cool."
My cheeks heated up instantly, and I fumbled with the textbook in my hands, almost dropping it.
Other students slowed down to watch our conversation, whispering to each other about how weird it was for Mason Griffin to be talking to me like that.
"Thanks, Mason," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glanced around at the onlookers before leaning in closer.
he shoved me and walked away
I stumbled backward, barely catching myself before I slammed into the row of lockers.
The metallic clang echoed down the hallway as everyone stopped to stare at us.
My textbook slipped from my hands and fell to the floor, its pages splayed open on the linoleum.
Through the tangled mess of my pink bangs, I watched as Mason’s back retreated down the hallway.
His shoulders were tense, his head held high as he pushed through the crowd of students.
His friends laughed and followed behind him, but one of them glanced back at me with a look of discomfort on his face.
I knelt down to gather my things, my hands shaking slightly as I shoved the loose papers back between the covers.
A shadow fell across me, and I looked up to see Ridley standing there, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
He didn’t say anything, just crouched down beside me and helped collect my papers.
When our fingers brushed reaching for the same page, he jerked his hand away quickly and stood up.
"Why did he do that?" Ridley asked, his voice low but filled with concern.
"I don't know," I replied, trying to keep my composure as I stood up.
Ridley hesitated for a moment before speaking again, "I think there's more to Mason than he's letting on."
I hurry down the school steps as the final bell rings, my pink hair bouncing with each step.
Through the parking lot windows, I spot Alex's sleek Aston Martin idling at the curb, its metallic paint gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.
He doesn't look up from his phone when I approach, just unlocks the door with a click.
Inside, the leather seat is cold against my legs.
Alex keeps his eyes straight ahead, his jaw clenched, as he pulls away from the curb.
When I try to thank him, he cuts me off with a sharp "Don't."
"What's going on, Alex?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn't respond, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
I fidget with my pink hair, twisting it around my finger as I try to understand what's happening.
After a few minutes of silence, he finally speaks up.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry," I reply, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
"I got held up with Mason and Ridley."
"Next time, don't let them hold you back," he says, his voice firm but controlled.
"I'll try," I say, feeling a sense of guilt wash over me.
The rest of the drive is silent, except for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional honk of a car horn outside.
When we arrive at the coffee shop, Alex parks and turns off the engine without a word.
I follow him inside, where he leads us to our usual table by the window.
He sits down first, his back straight and his eyes fixed on something across the room.
I take the seat opposite him, nervously fidgeting with my hands as I try to break the silence. "Alex, I really am sorry," I say, hoping to ease the tension between us.
But he doesn't respond, just continues to stare straight ahead.
I reach out and touch his hand gently, trying to get his attention.
To my surprise, he pulls away abruptly, his expression turning cold and distant.
I sit back in my chair, feeling confused and hurt by his reaction.
What had I done wrong?
After a few moments of silence, Alex finally speaks up again.
"Get our usual drinks," he says curtly, not looking at me.
"Sure," I reply, standing up and heading to the counter.
As I wait for the barista, I glance back at Alex, who seems lost in thought.
When I return with our drinks, he finally meets my eyes and says, "come here."
I lean forward hesitantly, unsure what he wants.
The dim lighting of the coffee shop casts shadows on his face, making it difficult to read his expression.
The drinks sit untouched between us, steam rising in lazy spirals from the cups.
Alex's fingers drum against the wooden table, creating a rhythmic tapping that makes my stomach clench.
When I'm inches from his face, he suddenly grabs my wrist - not painfully, but firmly enough to startle me.
His eyes narrow as he examines my arm, where a small bruise is forming from Mason's earlier shove.
"Who did this?" he demands, his voice low and controlled.
I try to pull away, but his grip remains steady.
"Mason," I admit, my voice barely audible over the chatter of the coffee shop.
Alex's jaw tightens, and he releases my wrist, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.
"I knew he was trouble," he mutters, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and something else I can't quite place.
I sit back in my chair, watching him as he stares at the table.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words.
Finally, he stands up and says, "Let's go."
I follow him out of the coffee shop, not knowing what to expect.
As we walk to his car, he doesn't say anything, just opens the door for me and gets behind the wheel.
The drive home is quiet, except for the occasional sound of a car passing by.
When we get to my house, he parks and turns off the engine, then turns to me with a serious expression.
"Listen," he says, his voice firm but controlled.
"You need to stay away from Mason. He's trouble."
I nod, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me.
"I know," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
"But I can't help it if he wants to be around me."
Alex sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"I know," he says again, his voice softer this time.
"But you need to be careful. He's not a good guy."
I nod again, feeling a lump form in my throat.
"I will," I promise, my voice shaking slightly.
Alex reaches out and touches my face gently, his eyes filled with concern.
"Good," he says softly.
"Now let's get you inside, bunny." He rounds the car and picks me up before shutting the door with his foot and walking inside.
As we walk into the living room, Alex turns to me and says, "Sit down."
I sit down on the couch, still confused by what's happening.
Alex walks over to the closet and pulls out a blanket, then brings it back and covers me with it.
He sits down next to me and looks into my eyes, his expression softening.
"How was your day?" he asks, his voice gentle.
I tell him everything that happened, from when Mason pushed me to when Ridley helped me pick up my books.
Alex listens intently, his eyes never leaving mine.
When I finish, he leans forward and kisses me softly on the lips.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he says, his voice filled with emotion.
"But I promise you, I'll always be here to protect you."
I smile weakly, feeling a mix of relief and happiness wash over me.
"Thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Alex pulls me into his arms and holds me close, stroking my hair gently as he whispers softly in my ear.
"I love you," he says, his voice filled with sincerity.
"I love you too," I reply, feeling a warmth spread throughout my body.
As we sit there holding each other, I can't help but feel grateful for Alex and the way he always takes care of me. "So how did you get this bruise?" he asks after a moment of silence, his finger lightly tracing the purple mark on my wrist.
I flinch at the contact but don't pull away.
"It was Mason," I explain, my voice steady despite the emotions churning inside me.
"He pushed me into the lockers."
Alex's eyes darken at the mention of Mason's name, and his grip on my arm tightens slightly before he releases it with a soft sigh.
"I'm sorry that happened," he murmurs, his gaze meeting mine once again.
"It won't happen again. I'll make sure of it."
His words send a shiver down my spine as I realize the depth of his protectiveness towards me.
It's both comforting and unsettling at the same time.
"Thank you," I reply softly, not knowing how else to respond to such a declaration. We sit in silence for a while longer, the only sound being the distant hum of the television in the background.
Then, Alex speaks up again.
"Have you ever wondered about Ridley?"
I frown slightly at the sudden change in topic but answer honestly, "Not really. Why?"
Alex shrugs casually but there's something in his eyes that suggests otherwise.
"He's been hanging around Mason a lot lately," Alex says, his voice tinged with suspicion.
I raise an eyebrow, surprised by the revelation.
"Do you think he's involved in whatever Mason's up to?" I ask, trying to piece everything together.