WHO: HARVEY AND ANYONE
WHAT: HEâS PRETENDING FOR HIS DAD, so like you could call him out, or tell him you donât care, or idk, heâs just an emo boy getting ready for his football game
WHERE: THE POTLUCK
Harvey had always felt this deep responsibility in his bones to be the life of the party. He was Harvey Hargrove The Third - he was the man with the house, and the life, and everything everyone wanted. He was the captain of the Football team, and president of the Fraternity. Maybe that was what made it so easy to float through the potluck, and why it was so easy to fake the cheesy grin dipped over his lips.Â
Wasnât it only right to pretend that he was having the time of his life with his privilege? Wasnât it only right to put on a show?Â
The truth was that Harvey didnât really know. Regardless of his knowledge of the nuance of Public Appearances, though, he knew the feeling of his fatherâs eyes on the back of his head like he knew his ABCâs, and that meant⊠pretending - well, for as long as he could in the face of the Gang. Even if not all of them were his friends right now.Â
It was easy to see the way his perfect mask fell the moment he locked eyes with [INSERT NAME HERE] - even if the smile never left his lips. It was just a little more hollow now: like he was caught. Playing pretend again, Harvey Hargrove? Shame on you.Â
âHey,â Harvey choked the words out over the table of Chili that separated them; they lingered for a moment, before falling and bubbling into one of the stray crockpots: âSouthwest Style - spicy!âÂ
âHeâs not looking is he?â When in doubt, bring up your Daddy issues, right? Harvey peeked over his shoulder. âGod forbid I have to hear another speech about crushing the Stompers tonight. Donât know if heâs been trying to quote Varsity Blues all day, butâŠâÂ
Sure he hadnât lived in Cherry that long, but he didnât really need to, to know almost everything he thought he needed to know about Harvey Hargrove the Third. He was captain of the football team, president of the frat on campus, and of course the seeming leader of the infamous gang that the town spent so much of their time witch hunting. Or at least thatâs what it all looked like from an outsiders point of view. A view he was kind of hoping may or may not change with his sudden participation in college football.Â
Cam had been standing in line for a plate of food of his own, looking at the line up of chiliâs and potato salads and grimacing a little. He wasnât sure why. It wasnât like he was any place to judge. His family spent all their time serving pizza and lasagnaâs. But still there was something about it that he was certain was going to leave him feeling sick after the game. When all of a sudden he felt a pair of eyes on him, looking up to find they were none other than those of Harvey himself.Â
âHey..â he offered in response to his teammate as it came his turn to step up and take a plate of food. He did so, slowly, but made a point to shoot Harvey and almost disgusted glance, partially in hope of making the other boy laugh, and partially to truly express his concerns about the chili. But as Harvey continued, Cam made a point of looking around until he found the OG Hargrove himself, who seemed readily engaged in a conversation with one of the refs fo the evening.Â
âNo. Youâre good.â He assured him as he let his eyes fall back on Harvey. âThat sounds absolutely miserable. Talk about expectations and all that amirite? Do you know if the teams actually any good? Probably be good for me to know so I donât run in and end up getting my ass handed to me tonight.âÂ