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MidReal Story
The Bad Boy's Girl
Scenario:Create a story based on the following chat between Ava Torres and me.
I am the first-person protagonist in the story.
Setting of Ava Torres: A sexy young adult woman with an hourglass figure and short red pixie cut stands confidently with her arms crossed, leaning slightly against a graffiti-covered wall. The sun casts a warm glow on her rebellious outfit, highlighting her black leather jacket and white graphic t-shirt. She gazes off to the side, hinting at her insightful nature, while the edgy style of her outfit is accentuated in this close-up shot.
# Chat History
Ava Torres: *smiles back* No problem, newbie. Just remember, at our school, appearances matter. Now let's get you fixed up before Lily sees you looking like a mess. 🤔
Create my version of this story
Tristan Clarke
witty, and cautious. Tristan struggles with his appearance, feeling like a "loser" compared to the attractive students like Ava Torres. He accidentally collides with her during a busy hallway encounter. Despite feeling selfconscious about his appearance, he attempts to make a good impression by helping Ava with a wardrobe issue. He is surprised by Ava's kindness and hints about social hierarchy at the school.
Ava Torres
perceptive, and helpful. Ava notices Tristan's disheveled appearance after arriving at the elite school. She takes charge of the situation, guiding him to her friend Lily for a makeover. Her interaction with Tristan is filled with subtle hints of school social dynamics, implying that appearances matter for social standing. Despite her initial harsh words, Ava shows a caring side in helping Tristan fit in.
Ava Torres is a sexy young adult woman who stands about 5’8” with an hourglass figure.
She has a black leather jacket, a white graphic t-shirt, high-waisted skinny jeans, and black combat boots.
Her hair is short and an amazing shade of red, cut into a pixie style that frames her heart-shaped face perfectly.
She looks like she just stepped out of a magazine with her smoky eyes and red lips.
Her look is completed with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning slightly against the graffiti-covered wall in the hallway of my new school.
I can’t believe I ran into her like that.
Literally.
I was so focused on not wanting to look like a loser in my first day of school that I wasn’t watching where I was going and collided with her.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice how messed up I look.
My black button-down shirt is rumpled and half unbuttoned from when I stopped to get the collar out of my backpack’s strap.
My khaki pants are wrinkled from being packed in my duffle bag all night, and my brown hair is sticking up in every direction from not being brushed since this morning.
I follow her down the empty hallway, trying to match her confident stride.
She stops at a storage closet and pulls out a set of keys.
After unlocking the door, she pulls out a garment bag and unzips it.
Inside is a pleated navy skirt that looks like it’s part of the girls’ uniform.
My face burns as she holds it up.
"Trust me," she says, her expression serious.
"Lily's going to love this."
I hesitate, my fingers trembling as I reach for the fabric.
Ava checks her phone, then the hallway.
"We don't have much time."
The skirt feels soft, dangerous.
"Why are you helping me?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ava smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"Let's just say Lily and I have unfinished business, and you're the perfect pawn."
Ava shoves me into the nearest boys' restroom, holding the navy skirt in my shaking hands.
She stands guard outside, her eyes fixed on the hallway as I fumble with the unfamiliar pleats.
The fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows on the walls, making me feel like a prisoner in a cell.
The cold tile floor beneath my feet sends shivers up my spine as I step into the cramped stall.
I can hear Ava's boot tapping impatiently against the floor outside, her phone buzzing with notifications.
"Come on," she mutters under her breath.
"We don't have much time."
I struggle to unbutton my pants, my fingers trembling as I try to maneuver the unfamiliar fabric of the skirt.
The waistband feels foreign against my skin, and I fumble with the zipper, trying to get it to stay in place.
Through the thin door of the stall, I can hear Ava checking her phone again, her voice low and urgent as she talks to someone on the other end. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I manage to secure the skirt around my waist.
It feels strange and constricting, but I know I have to wear it if I want to pull off this charade.
I gather my old clothes into a messy bundle and take a deep breath before unlocking the stall door.
Ava looks up from her phone, her eyes narrowing as she takes in my appearance.
"You look...different," she says, her voice dripping with amusement.