Soap Opera Sunday: Episode Two – The Party or "Let Me Help You Shoot Him"

Previously, on Soap Opera Sunday: [Episode One]

N was excited. It was the middle of July and in just six weeks she was moving to Boston to become a real live college student at Emerson College. There were a few details that still needed to be worked out, like how she was going to pay the $30,000+ yearly tuition, but N was not concerned with details. She was excited! She would be living the dream – with friends, in a fabulous apartment complete with whirlpool tub and outdoor pool. (For real, yo.)

And of course, there was still the rest of the summer, during which N planned to have as much fun as possible. This of course included finding a nice boy to make out with spend time with. So N practiced her flirting skills and hung around until one fateful night, at a friend's birthday party.

The party was held at a local bar, and by local I mean really, really small town bar, like 300 people live close enough to hang out there. every night. N's friends had taken over the place, and there was a lot of drinking and laughing and yelling. They were a rowdy bunch. The pool table was lined with stacks of quarters and the jukebox was going all night long. Plus, someone brought water guns.

Somewhere close to midnight, N's friend A was making her second run at her older brother with a water gun. N knew all about brothers (she has three) and offered her assistance. He had already foiled A's attempts to drench him once, and N was determined that it should not happen again.

"Let me do it," she said, "He's your brother, he could just tackle you and take the gun away, but he doesn't even know me, it'll be great!"

A agreed and the two slunk around to the other side of the bar where her brother was drinking a beer.

"Go around that way," N whispered, "We have to sneak up."

A circled around, and N went for a frontal attack. But sadly, she had underestimated her foe. Not only was he super cute, but apparently, he wasn't afraid to tackle girls he'd never met. Within minutes he had taken the water gun and turned the tables on N. Soon she was soaked, and smitten.

Pushing her sodden hair off her face, she tried vainly to regain her composure. "Hi," she said, "I'm N."

"I know," he said, "I'm S."

N's eyes glittered with anticipation, and it wasn't just all the vodka she had been drinking: the next six weeks were looking better all the time.

Next Week: N turns stalker!

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