✧ showgirl ✧

[callahan-bay]

Cali didn’t hesitate for even a second, stepping straight between Kylee and the guy like it was instinct, shoulder driving forward as he shoved him back hard enough to make him stumble a step. “Yeah, nah,” Cali snapped, voice sharp and loud over the music. “The girls asked you to get away from them. That’s not up for any negotiation.” The second it landed, though, he already lifted both hands up, palms out in exaggerated surrender like he could feel things tipping the wrong way. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, backing it off just enough to show he wasn’t trying to escalate anything, but still staying planted between them. At Kylee’s voice behind him saying she thought the guy got the message, Cali huffed a quiet breath through his nose, glancing over his shoulder briefly as she reached for him. “Yeah,” he said flatly, eyes flicking back toward the man, “he better have.” Then her lower tone cut in, and he turned his head toward her properly, brows lifting. Cali lifted his hands again, but this time it was more relaxed, like he was already letting it go. “No fighting, I got it,” he said, voice still a bit rough but calmer now, eyes flicking briefly back to make sure the guy was actually backing off. Then his attention came straight back to her, the edge softening as he looked her over properly. “What about you though, are you okay?” he added, tone dropping slightly, less sharp now and more genuinely concerned. His jaw tightened for a second as he glanced past her again. “Some fucking guys here just don’t get the picture.”

[kyleemercer]

kylee looked at the blond now standing between her and the guy who had decided to bother her. the shove he gave the man was harder than she'd expected from a stranger stepping in. her eyes stayed on him for a moment before following the guy as he finally backed off and walked away. she sighed. "some people just don't know how to listen," she said, rolling her eyes. when he told her he wasn't going to fight him, the tension she'd been carrying eased a little. when he asked if she was okay, kylee nodded. "perfectly fine," she assured him with a smile. "thanks." her eyes met his. he was tall—way taller than her. she didn't usually think of herself as short, but standing next to him made her feel tiny. "some guys deserve a kick so hard their dick falls off," she added bluntly. she wasn't about to sugarcoat it; she hated men like that more than anything. glancing over, she caught her friends wiggling their eyebrows at her. of course they were. he was exactly her type, and they all knew it. "can i buy you a drink for your services?" she asked, a warm smile tugging at her lips. "i'm kylee, and you're hot, but i need to know your name. unless i can just call you mine."

[callahan-bay]

Callahan, Cali to anyone who actually knew him, wasn’t really planning on dealing with anything tonight beyond cheap drinks and loud music. He leaned back against the bar with his friends, half-listening to their conversation, half-watching the crowd like it was all just moving scenery. Until it wasn’t. Over near the edge of the dance floor, a group of girls were trying to keep their space, laughing off the night, dancing like they owned it even as a couple of guys kept edging in closer than they should’ve been. Too close. Hands lingering too long. Smiles that didn’t land right. One of the guys leaned in again, crowding a brunette who immediately shifted back, her expression tightening as she turned her shoulder away. His friends laughed like it was funny.

Cali’s jaw ticked. He set his drink down. “Yo,” one of his friends started, sensing the shift, but Cali was already moving. He cut through the crowd without rushing, no need to. Just direct. Purposeful. People instinctively stepped aside when they saw his face, or maybe it was the way he looked like he’d already decided how this was going to go. By the time he reached them, the guy was leaning in again, trying to get the brunette’s attention, Cali stepped in between them without warning. “Back the fuck up.” His voice didn’t rise much, but it landed hard in the noise like something sharp cutting through fabric. The guy blinked, caught off guard. Cali tilted his head slightly, eyes flat. “Are you deaf or stupid? Step back.” He stepped in closer and shoved him back, hard.

@kyleemercer

[kyleemercer]

their musical rehearsal had been canceled while they were all standing outside the little studio they’d booked. the director never showed up, and there was no way to get inside the building without the keys, so after waiting around for a while, they all decided to just go out instead. they tossed their bags into the car and headed to the closest bar. the music was loud, people were already dancing and drinking, and there was even karaoke — honestly, it was the perfect backup plan. after ordering a round of margaritas, the girls claimed a little spot near the edge of the dance floor, close enough to a table so they could switch between sitting and dancing whenever they wanted. kylee had just started relaxing when she felt someone standing way too close behind her. she turned slightly, already annoyed. “go away, i don’t need you this close,” she told the man flatly. he either didn’t care or didn’t understand because instead of backing off, his hand landed on the small of her waist, trying to guide her into dancing with him. before she could shove him off herself, someone stepped in. she blinked, startled, as the blond moved between them and shoved the guy back hard enough to make him stumble. for a second, kylee just stood there, caught between wanting the stranger to stop and being weirdly relieved someone had stepped in at all. “i think he got the message,” she said quickly, her brows knitting with concern as her hand instinctively reached for the blond’s broad shoulder. she didn’t trust men like that to walk away quietly, and she definitely didn’t want this turning into something worse. “don’t get into a fight,” she said, voice lower now, trying to pull his attention back to her.

[kyleemercer]

“dicknotized,” she nodded toward caleb, a smirk playing on her lips. “that’s the word.” she took the shot and immediately winced, letting out a little whoo once she swallowed it. “god, that was strong,” she laughed, shaking her head. then she pointed at her friend with the glass still in hand. “what i was saying is, if he keeps calling you, it’s because he’s dicknotized. there’s no other explanation.” she nodded like she’d just solved a major mystery. “maybe we should find you someone who doesn’t get weirdly obsessed with you after one taste,” she mused, before pausing and narrowing her eyes playfully. “but then again… you kind of love messy, so maybe you’re part of the problem.” she grinned, leaning back in her seat. “teach me how, though,” she laughed. then, after a beat, she raised a finger and corrected herself, “actually, no. don’t. i already make enough bad decisions on my own.” @caleb--caldwell

[firstprinced]

Mika Abdalla as Allie Hayes OFF CAMPUS (2026)

[kyleemercer]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ this is kylee

name:  klyee

age: twenty5

relationship status: tbd.

kylee mercer has always been performing, long before anyone handed her a script.

as a kid, she turned family dinners into one-woman shows, climbing onto chairs to reenact scenes from movies she’d seen once and somehow memorized completely. she sang before she could carry a tune, made up dramatic stories for her stuffed animals, and insisted on choreographing “productions” in the living room that her family had no choice but to sit through. there was never a moment where anyone doubted she’d end up on a stage somehow. kylee was born with too much energy, too much imagination, and too much need to feel alive to settle for anything ordinary.

she grew up in euroville in a warm, chaotic family that adored her, even if they were constantly trying to slow her down. her parents learned early that kylee came with a different kind of responsibility. when she was six, she suffered a severe anaphylactic reaction after eating a pastry at a community event that had traces of tree nuts. what should have been a simple afternoon turned into sirens, panic, and a hospital stay that terrified her family enough to make them overly cautious for years. since then, kylee has lived with a life-threatening tree nut allergy — the kind that means every restaurant menu, every dessert tray, every spontaneous snack comes with a question first. she carries epinephrine pens in every purse she owns and has learned to laugh off how often her friends panic more than she does. still, the reality remains: one wrong bite can change everything.

maybe that’s why she lives the way she does now — loudly, impulsively, and like every good moment deserves to be stretched just a little longer.

kylee is outgoing in a way that feels almost impossible to fake. she can walk into a room where she knows no one and leave with half the crowd laughing around her. she’s magnetic, not because she tries to dominate attention, but because she naturally pulls people in. she’s playful, flirty, and deeply comfortable in her own skin, the kind of person who makes others feel less judged just by being around her. she talks openly, laughs with her whole body, and carries herself with a confidence that feels contagious. she’s body positive, sex positive, and entirely uninterested in pretending shame is a virtue. to kylee, life is too short not to wear what makes you feel good, kiss who you want, and dance badly if the song is right.

but behind all of that confidence is someone still searching for where she belongs.

she’s not a professional actress — not yet. right now, kylee is an amateur performer, the kind who takes every local audition she can, joins community theater productions, and says yes to tiny unpaid roles if they mean she gets to be on stage. she works part-time jobs that pay the bills — café shifts, event hosting, whatever fits around rehearsals — but her real life begins when the curtain rises. theater is where she feels most honest. not because she’s pretending to be someone else, but because being on stage gives her permission to feel everything as intensely as she wants.

what sets kylee apart is that she doesn’t just want to perform in musicals.

she wants to create them.

she has notebooks full of scenes, lyrics scribbled on receipts, unfinished songs in voice memos, and story ideas she writes at 3 a.m. when she can’t sleep. she’s always writing — half-comedic love songs, dramatic monologues, ideas for stage productions that mix heartbreak and humor in a way that feels unmistakably her. she dreams of one day starring in a musical she wrote herself, something bright and messy and emotional that makes people laugh and cry in the same night.

it’s her secret ambition, even though she talks about it like a joke.

because kylee has a habit of hiding her deepest wants behind humor. if she says it with a grin, no one can tell how much it matters. if she makes it sound silly, rejection won’t sting as much. she’s the friend who tells everyone else to be brave, to take risks, to confess their feelings, to go for the dream job — all while quietly second-guessing whether she’s good enough to deserve her own dreams.

she’s fiercely loyal and naturally becomes the emotional center of any friend group. kylee is the one hyping everyone up before a date, talking someone through a breakdown in the bathroom at a party, or dragging a sad friend out for fries at midnight because “staying in and crying is illegal tonight.” she’s deeply caring, almost to a fault, and has a hard time saying no when someone needs her. she hates conflict, avoids hurting people whenever possible, and often sacrifices her own feelings to keep everyone else comfortable.

that makes her lovable.

it also makes her easy to overlook when she’s the one falling apart.

kylee has a restless streak that even she doesn’t fully understand. she craves excitement, novelty, stories worth retelling. she wants her life to feel cinematic — not perfect, but full. a little dramatic. something bigger than the safe, expected path. she’s constantly chasing that feeling, whether it’s through spontaneous road trips, impulsive auditions, rooftop parties, or staying up all night writing lyrics for a musical she may never finish.

deep down, she’s still trying to figure out who she is when no one is watching.

because so much of her identity has always been tied to performance — being the funny one, the flirty one, the brave one, the girl who makes everyone else feel confident. but when the party ends, the lights go out, and she’s alone in her room with her rabbit curled at the foot of her bed and another unfinished script open on her laptop, there are moments where the confidence slips.

and in those moments, kylee isn’t fearless at all.

she’s just a girl with too many feelings, too many dreams, and a voice in the back of her mind whispering that maybe one day, if she’s brave enough, she’ll write herself into the kind of life she’s always imagined.