@toriscnta - Tumblr Blog

wildtorres-a:

HE’S CLEANING OUT HIS LOCKER WHEN HE SPOTS HER, bright smile & prominent dimples, knows that things are different & he can’t just wave her over like he would the year prior. has been fighting himself on whether to try to make amends or let things be as they are. — KNOWS THAT IT’S NO USE, HE STILL WANTS HER IN HIS LIFE. even if it is at a distance. deep breath is emitted, ❝ tori, ❞ he walks towards her, and stops at a reasonable distance. it’s too late to go back now. quickly grabs the pick velvet jacket that he’d found in the guest room two nights ago, and holds it out towards her. ❝ i um, i’ve been meaning to give this to you, just couldn’t find the right time. ❞ he attempts to not look so nervous, can’t quite remember a time he was nervous around her. ❝ and i wanted to apologize, in person, not over text like an asshat. i was wrong, and i’m sorry. and i know we’ll NEVER be friends again like we were, but i needed to tell you that and i needed you to hear it. ❞ now that it’s all out in the open, he gives her one last friendly smile, before turning around and heading back to his locker. / @toriscnta

it’s out with the old and in with the new. polaroids, sticky notes, old valentine’s meet the bottom of the trash bin stationed directly next to her locker. no one’s happier than tori to see this year end. and there’s something cathartic about seeing her locker all empty. summer brings a blank slate, a chance to start fresh, not to mention the opportunity to sleep til’ noon most days. wild hair, and warm nights, and mix matched bikinis, her every thought is her favorite season. so overwhelming that she almost thinks it’s just the ghost of summers past when he says her name. mahogany hues settle on his, acknowledging each other’s existence for what feels like the first time in forever. she doesn’t speak, save for the whisper of a ‘ thanks‘ that leaves her lips when he hands her jacket back. instead just lets him say his piece, stands there and stares back at him until he’s finished and walking away. “i forgive you” comes quietly and once his back’s already turned, lips lifting into a hint of a tender smile when she’s sure he’s heard. at her core, she really does love both lia and drew, only wants their true and in mistakable happiness at the end of the day. and if they found that in each other she could never, would never stand in the way. and sure, it’s still weird for her to be in a room with both of them at once. but if there’s one thing she knows for certain it’s that time heals all. and maybe someday they could all be friends again. like normal. “have a good summer, drew”

#wildtorres #i cry

Text ✉ Tori 👑

Arlene: guess the summer of romance has died.

tori: ohh :( i’m sorry

tori: now you can have a hot girl summer with me!

📲 nessa 👑

vanessa: and now we have the whole summer to get cute and forget about all the lames here.

tori: cheers to that mami 💃 except i got summer school 🙄 but that doesn’t start til next week

tori: pool tomorrow??

declancoynes‌:

he watched her every move, amusement on his features never faltering as he observed her pluck a cherry from the bowl behind the counter. there was something beautifully intriguing in the way she lived so boldly and freely. he’d been all across the world, seen every kind of person there is, and strangely, the only ones who could truly catch his interest were from a public school in toronto. “ a shame … wasting all that beauty talking to a guy like me when it should be shown off on the cover of vogue, or something like that. ” they weren’t empty words either. tori was undeniably gorgeous, and that fact that she wasn’t afraid to live as herself made her all the more alluring.

“ right … almost forgot about that. ” the topic was bound to come up eventually, but he was glad tori chose not to touch on it for much longer. he was there to forget about his breakup, after all. though, hanging out with his ex’s best friend most likely was not the best way to go about it. in his defense, his escapades with tori happened far before anything ever got remotely serious with vanessa — and those were some of his favorite times, too. he was never the type to get attached to past conquests, but there was something about the mysterious girl he met in australia that he couldn’t shake from his mind. maybe a part of him was even happy that they were able to meet again. he was only joking when he said it was fate, but perhaps there was truth to the sentiment.

he saw the look in her eyes — the same one she gave him right before he reluctantly agreed to something that would surely put them in hot water if they were ever caught. “ sure, i could use some fun. ” he doesn’t need to say it though, they both knew he’d agree, the only difference now being that there wasn’t a hint of hesitance in his tone. “ what game did you have in mind, miss venice ? ”

the use of her old pseudonym invokes a smile, impish and perhaps the most genuine she’s smiled all day, save for the whimsical one she flashed the park vendor when he gave her a balloon, free of charge. even that was temporary, resulting in her watching her gift ascend toward the heavens and feeling nothing. but right now, in the fifth barstool from the left, underneath low light, opposite of ice blue hues she feels invigorated. alive.

“maybe a game of--pretend?” the oldest, and in her opinion, funnest in the book. she sips her third martini, and leaves him hanging for a minute before she sets the scene.

“so you are going to work your magic on that girl riiight there” she points ,albeit discreetly, to the the woman positioned just a few seats down from them, college-aged, blonde, and looking fresh off the cover of some foreign magazine. “and i, your very new, very jealous fiance am gonna put a stop to it and confront you before things can get too hot and heavy.” a bit devious, but all harmless fun in her idle mind. she slides the rest of her drink in his direction as if he needs the liquid courage to do what he does best, eyes him expectantly, and says in a tone that’s somehow both sweet and challenging, “you down?”

it’s seconds after his response that she’s hopping down from her barstool. “i’m gonna go to the ladies’ room and freshen up,” dimpling from over her shoulder as she singsongs a “be back sooon” on the way to the back.

#declancoynes

clareedwardswrites‌:

Clare feels a sense of relief at the sight of Tori, still beautiful as ever, standing in front of her. Once safely in her friend’s arms, burying her face in Tori’s shoulder, breathing in the fading scent of lingering perfume, which had been much stronger the night before, despite how stuffed up her sinuses had become.

Clare snuffles painfully as she gets dragged to sit down. She meets Tori’s deep dark eyes with bloodshot, bright blue eyes, still unable to keep the tears from flooding. As she tries to piece together some sembelance of an excuse to explain such a franic morning call, she realizes how stupid it was to call Tori. Getting her mixed up in her own relationship drama with Jake, that wasn’t like Clare, but she didn’t know who else to call.

“He’s really leaving, T,” she chokes out and runs a hand through her tangled, disheveled curls. “He-he’s actually following that hag.” She’s still in disbelief that Jake was actually going to leave. Although, she had sprung her own truth as well; shooting the same action back in his face.

she stares back at her, wordlessly demanding. and the thought plays out all over her face as it dawns on her just what, or rather who they’re talking about. a part of her sighs inwardly, having done what she could to steer clear of the person in question save for cordial ‘hellos’, taught smiles in passing. but clare had been there for her through so much, she couldn’t not return the favor, even if meant being drug down the jake martin rabbit hole one last time.

“oh--” is her knee-jerk response until she can muster something a bit more eloquent. “oh, clare it’s going to be alright-” she offers gently, scooting a little closer.

“it’s like i told you, c, you gotta let him do what he wants. sometimes the people we love don’t do what we want them to, sometimes we gotta let them go” she surprises herself a little, at the way she sounds. maybe she did learn one thing this year.

“you can still call him, you can visit..” there’s a part of her believes that they’ll never abandon one another completely. theirs is a bond so deeply rooted, their roots would forever be tangled.

#clareedwardswrites

clare's in love with your ex why are you comforting her?

because...people don’t belong to people. and it’s not like we’re together anymore. we haven’t been for a while now.

#Anonymous

excited to win princess?

it was nice, yeah.

#Anonymous

📲 nessa 👑

vanessa: a congratulations is due for you as well!

tori: well it was a nice little end to a rough year.

#thevmontgomery

clareedwardswrites‌:

Clare is nodding, even though Tori can’t see the movement, unsure what more she could as she listened to the shuffle on the other end of the phone. Tori must have been getting herself together enough to be decent for an uber; since Clare was probably the only person in the world who didn’t care how Tori looked.

She was still struggling to breath through sobs, but got out a timid, “thanks.”

After a couple of minutes on the phone; static and tears being the only sound, Clare gets to her feet. She was only in her slip from the night before, but it wasn’t like Tori was going to drag her out in public. “I - I’ll be at the, the door,” she stutters, shuffling her way out of her room. The floorboards creak under her slow footsteps and she stops by the front door, unlocking it with a couple twists.

it takes closer to twenty minutes for her to finally arrive at the edwards’ residence, so familiar by now she’s sure she could get there with her eyes closed. and the entire ride over she can’t feel anything but nervous anticipation at clare’s cryptic call, doing her best to piece together what she could, anxiously jiggling her foot at every red light.

she tries to distract herself with a stick of gum, her faint reflection in the window, but the thump thump thump-ing in her chest doesn’t settle until they’re face to face, and can hear from her own mouth what’s set her so off-kilter.

“clare--” she considers her, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes, wraps her arms around her shoulders and consoles her in a quiet tone, a little bit unsure.

the house is still, but not eerily so. more of a solemn silence that at least rids her nerves of the fact that someone had died. still, it’s clear that all is not well. she moves carefully, sets her crocheted cross body down next to her when she sits. and she’s looking at her now with questions in her eyes, one in particular, “what happened?”

#clareedwardswrites

clareedwardswrites‌:

Clare is sobbing, heaving painfully into the voice box of her phone, as Tori starts to talk. She can hear her friend piecing together what she can before Clare can even get out a word. She takes a couple deep breaths, trying to still the overwhelming flood of tears.

“T?” she finally gets out, still struggling to catch her breath. She shakes her head, her frizzy hair flying around her head. “Puh-ple-pleease,” she was already begging, “I ca-can’t be alone. Pleeeeaase, Tori.” And she’s weeping again as the loneliness is setting in.

It wasn’t fair to ask Tori to come to her aid, especially when she had previously dated Jake. But who else she supposed to call? It’s not like she could call Jake after they just let their relationship burning out. He was probably disappointed, angry with her. She didn’t really have any other girl friends she could talk to about relationship drama. And mostly, she didn’t want to talk to Tori; she just needed her to be present. Like they had done so many times before that terrible day she had left Clare too.

her heart skips a nervous beat at the sheer amount of desperation in her voice. and suddenly, she’s wide awake and looking for shoes on her bedroom floor. “what happened clare? can you tell me what happened?” she gets out, sliding into a pair of white high top converse to complement her pullover and pajama shorts, an almost acceptable ensemble, but it would certainly do for the time being.

“okay, okay i’ll be over in fifteen--” her fingers make quick work of the uber app on her phone, and she’s trying not to let the other girl hear it, but there’s something fearful that wells up inside. immediately, she assumes worst case scenario.

#clareedwardswrites

📲 nessa 👑

tor: congratulations queen 👑👑👑

tor: i knew you could do it

#thevmontgomery

clareedwardswrites

Clare woke up the day after prom, nearly noon, and her body, from head to toe, hurt. And not because she had binged a couple drinks the night before. She groaned when she realized something stiff was digging into her back. She rolled around and found the rolled up banner curled up beside her, previously sticking into her back. She sniffled as she stiffly sat up in her bed, her eyes struggling to focus. She placed a hand on the cloth and her mind started racing through the whole ordeal with Jake Martin from the night before.

The amount of times they were from, at least in her eyes, nearly kissing to almost starting a fight was a new record. He was leaving soon and she had made the daring attempt to explain why she’d be gone when he got back, but Jake Martin just didn’t get how she could possibly be cowardly in such a situation.

That’s when it hit her. That pain aching through her body was from her heart. She was lovesick, lovesore over Jake Martin.

Clare reacted poorly to this feeling. She grabbed her dying phone off her nightstand and called Tori Santamaria. As she waited for her friend to pick up, her heart start to race and her breaths became more shallow. She let out a sob when she heard someone answer on the other end.

@toriscnta

toriscnta

she rolls over on the fourth ring, all messy bedhead and half lidded mahogany hues. she wipes the sleep from eyes as ‘smartypants cutipie’ (she’d never gotten around to changing her contact name, doesn’t think she ever will) illuminates her screen.

groggily she answers, “hello?” and a part of her wonders why she’s not getting ready for graduation. when she hears the muffled sob, the sound of sniffling in her receiver her thick brows furrow.

“clare?” she tries, sits up a little straighter on her newly purchased satin sheets. she can sleep til’ forever on them, usually settles for til’ noon. “clare, are you crying? what’s wrong?” there’s concern and confusion and dread all wrapped up into one threaded in those few words she speaks, she runs a dainty hand through her raven locks to get the rogue curls out of her face and speaks more pointedly. “are you okay?” clare is strong, but she can’t take another crushing blow.