tipsy || f2f
ofeliahyatt:
Ofelia sighed the hardest sigh she thought sheâd ever sighed in her whole entire life. It didnât matter how many times Caleb told her she was the best person he knew or that she could do anything she wanted to. It didnât change the fact that she was sitting there jobless, drunk, and would be on the verge of crying if not for the fact that she wasnât wearing waterproof mascara. She looked down at her hands as Caleb held them. âYeah, but you knew what you wanted to do. Iâm not even sure if modeling was something I actually wanted to do or if I just did it because everyone thought I was pretty,â She huffed. As conceited as it sounded, it was true. She had been the beauty queen of Mystery Inc. afterall, but it looked like her biggest suspicion was coming true; you couldnât get by on just being pretty. You had to be smart, or talented, or possess some weird special skill that people would find a commodity. Well, she did have one skill.
She dropped Calebâs hands only to climb on top of him so that she was straddling him on the couch. âI mean, this-â She gestured to the position she was currently in with Caleb under her, â-this used to be enough. Now youâre telling me I actually need more on my resume than Coolsville Pageant Queen from 1998-2010?â She leaned back, almost losing her balance and falling backwards before regaining what little composure she had left. âOr Homecoming and Prom Queen for like, three years?â She put her hands on Calebâs shoulders, staring him directly in the eyes as if prolonged eye contact would get her point across clearer somehow. âI shouldâve existed during Marilyn Monroeâs time. She slept with JFK! You donât get much sexier than that!âÂ
Caleb's eyes widened in surprised as Ofelia climbed on top of him; he didn't know what she was getting at, but he did know that she was very drunk, and his arms instantly slid around her waist for support. The last thing he needed was for her to topple backwards and hit her head and end up in a hospital -- he'd had more than enough of the sight of her in a hospital bed for one lifetime. He squirmed a little bit underneath her, pinned in place but trying to get as comfortable as possible without being weird, and swallowed hard. It had been a long time since they'd been like this, too, and he was afraid his body would betray him with a reaction that definitely didn't fit the tone, what with Ofelia freaking out and everything. "This could still be enough if you like, wanted to be a prostitute or something, but I don't know if that's like your life goal or something... And Marilyn Monroe died when she was like thirty, she's kinda not goals."
Caleb began awkwardly, but words failed him. He didn't know how to make Ofelia feel better -- he thought he'd known how, once, but it always seemed like it was buying her things or telling her she was pretty, or reminding her that he cared about her more than anyone else. That didn't seem to be enough now, though. "And being pretty definitely still helps! But life gets harder when you get older, I guess. Being pretty helps you get jobs and helps make people like you when you have to interact with them and helps make you the face of the company when they need people in pictures and stuff, but... I don't know, O," he shrugged, his eyes darting to the side instead of staying locked on her when it was hard to see her looking sad. "It just takes a while for people to figure out their thing and get their big break. I mean, I had to try other stuff for years before I finally got a job I liked, and now that I'm done with it, I'm back to scrambling looking for stuff. At least you have people who love you and aren't gonna let you do it alone?"











