It's the Monday after the hangout, and Larry is currently bored out of his mind in third period English class.
The morning had gone well enough. The group met up in the hallways like always, Travis and Penguin trailing in a little later since they were still getting used to the whole routine. They looked pretty down, though they brightened up some once they spotted everyone.
After a round of greetings — including another cheek semi-kiss from Penguin that he was only slightly more prepared for this time — Todd asked how church went. That wiped the little bit of brightness right off their faces.
"It was fine," Travis had said, and Penguin immediately tucked herself into his side, nuzzling her nose into his shoulder like she was trying to hide.
"I don't like the way Mr. Phelps talks about people…" she'd mumbled, her voice barely audible against Travis' sleeve.
And that was the end of that conversation.
No matter how much they poked and prodded, the two dodged every attempt to dig any deeper into what happened at church. Whatever it was, though, it had Penguin practically glued to Travis' side and had him back to being all prickly.
Larry didn't like it. Not one bit.
Travis had been opening up so well lately, actually joking around with them and letting his guard down. Now he was all sharp edges and shadows again. His knuckles were torn up and clumsily bandaged, and even from a glance, he could tell the bruise around his eye was fresh again.
And Penguin wasn't exactly quiet, always teasing and poking fun at people, even him. But now? She looked small.
And he hated it.
So he did what he always did best — cracked a few jokes, threw out something dumb to lighten the air, and waited for her to bite.
And it worked, because of course it did. Penguin had grabbed onto the distraction like it was a lifeline, her laugh breaking through the tension easily. She still kept close to Travis, still half-tucked against his side, but at least she wasn't wilting anymore.
The bell rang not long after, pulling them out of the moment. He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned just in time to catch her stopping Travis before they split off for class. She reached up on her toes to press a semi-kiss to his cheek, her hand curling gently around his jaw, and Travis didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into it — just a little — before they separated and went their own ways.
Larry had lingered for a second, stomach twisting at the sight, and then forced himself to move.
He tried, really tried, to strangle his feelings on the matter.
It wasn't like he didn't get it. Whatever went down at church had clearly got them a little rattled, and it made sense they'd lean on each other for comfort. He's seen them doing it before. And nothing they ever did, no matter how touchy, ever read as romantic. Not really.
But his brain wasn't keeping the memo.
Instead, it kept replaying that moment, her hand on Travis' jaw, soft and steady, and it made his stomach twist all over again. He felt bad, awful, about it, too. There he was, sitting on his own pity party because his dumb brain couldn't separate comfort from… whatever the hell it was trying to tell him.
He huffed and tried to shake it off, shoving the thought down deep. He didn't have time to get caught up in something stupid like that, especially not when he kept feeling a finger digging into his arm— Wait.
"Larry?"
The soft voice snapped him out of it, and when he turned his head, Penguin was right there, blinking at him with furrowed brows as she poked his arm. For a moment he was surprised to see her there, before he remembered that they shared that class.
"Are you okay?" she whispered, leaning in closer. "The teacher told us to get in pairs, and you're the only one here I know, but…"
Her voice trailed off, her concern lingering in the air between them.
He sat up straighter, trying to brush off whatever look had been on his face. He offered her the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I was, uh— I was thinking."
"Dangerous," she grinned, the worry fading as easily as it came.
Rolling his eyes, he rested his arms on the table and leaned on them. "I can think, you know?" he defended himself, though there was no bite behind it.
"Uh-huh, sure," she snorted, her grin widening.
"I'm serious," he whispered, leaning in closer like he was about to share some big secret — but mostly to mess with her.
It worked like a charm. Her breath hitched, and her eyes darted down to his mouth for a split second before snapping back up to meet his gaze. She immediately looked flustered, pulling back just slightly, but not enough to hide the flush creeping up her cheeks.
"Uh-huh," she tried again, though it sounded weaker this time.
He smirked, sitting back just enough to give her space but still close enough to feel her warmth next to him.
He liked doing that.
For all that he scrambled when she touched him so casually, he figured getting back at her with a bit of teasing was more than fair. She had no problem pulling him around, braiding his hair, or pressing their faces together like it didn't mean anything — but the second he lowered his voice and leaned in close, she crumbled.
And God, he found that so endearing.
Her cheeks were still flushed, and she kept fidgeting with her pencil like she didn't know what to do with her hands. It almost made him want to push his luck further, just to see how much redder she could get.
But before he could, the teacher's voice cut through the low hum of conversation. "Eyes up front, people! I'm only explaining this once."
They both startled, snapping apart like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't. He sat up straighter, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck, while Penguin practically buried herself in her notebook, circling her pencil above the page as she pretended to write something.
When the teacher's attention shifted to the chalkboard, Larry risked another glance her way. She was still pink, her eyes fixed stubbornly on her notebook as if looking at him might make her combust on the spot. And damn if that didn't make him grin all over again.
Still feeling a little smug, he forced himself to turn back to his notes as the teacher launched into an explanation about their final project — something about a book analysis, he thought, though he only half-listened. It was due a few days before classes ended in May, which sounded like not much time.
He tried to jot down the basics, but when he looked over, he noticed she was already scribbling down every detail with laser focus. It made him snort softly. Of course, she was the kind to obsess over instructions. He probably didn't need to bother repeating anything — she'd have it covered.
Which left him free to let his mind wander.
They'd hung out before, sure, but always with the group. Even the day she'd braided his hair, there had been other people there, breaking up the tension. This? This was different.
This was just the two of them, working on something together.
It was enough to have his heart trying to climb up his throat.
What if it was weird? What if she changed her mind halfway through and decided he was too much of a dumbass to be worth the effort she'd poured into him already? Or what if it wasn't weird at all, what if they got along so well it only made it worse?
He could already picture it, sitting next to her for hours, leaning close to talk about the project, her side pressed closed to him—
The sound of the chalk tapping against the board snapped him out of it before his brain could go completely off the rails.
Focus, Larry.
God, if he was already daydreaming about spending time with her instead of focusing on the actual project, he was so screwed.
He barely had time to spiral about it before she was, quite literally, yanking his chain.
He blinked down to find her fingers curled around the chain on his pants, giving it a small tug. He didn't even have the mental space to freak out about it before his eyes snapped up to hers. She raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, and slid her notebook toward him like she hadn't just melted his brain.
"We need to pick one of these books," she said, her voice dropping into a huff as she leaned forward to rest her chin on her palm. "We should pick the easiest one and get it over with, y'know?"
She sounded casual, relaxed, and he leaned back, hoping to match her tone. "What, trying to get rid of me so fast?" he teased, smirking—
Only for that smirk to vanish when she suddenly paled, eyes wide and ready to argue, and oh crap she thought he was serious.
"I'm joking," he said quickly, raising his hands in surrender.
The tension in her shoulders fell almost immediately, but she still shot him a look like he'd just personally insulted her. "Not funny," she muttered, bringing a hand up to wrap her hair around her finger.
"Okay, okay, my bad," he said, a little softer this time, and let his eyes skim the list she'd written down, if only to keep himself from staring at her instead.
There were a lot of names and dates scribbled on the page, and honestly? Half of them blurred together the longer he stared. Old-ass classics, newer stuff, he didn't know what to pick. He glanced up at her, hoping for some kind of guidance, and she only giggled at the lost look on his face before nudging the notebook toward the middle of the desk.
Then, to make matters worse — or better? — she scooted her chair closer. Close enough that her arm brushed his, and he had to focus really hard on not looking at her.
"Okay, so," she started, tapping the pencil against the paper. Her cheeks were pink, and he wasn't sure if it was from being close or from whatever idea was brewing in her head. "I know I said we should pick an easy one, but…" She tapped against one of the titles a couple times, her voice turning all soft and wistful as she added, "Dinosaurs…"
He barely processed what she actually said because his brain decided to get stuck on that noise instead — the kind of dreamy, loving sigh people reserved for puppies and kittens. And apparently dinosaurs.
He blinked at her, then snapped out of it long enough to glance down and actually read the title she was pointing at.
"Jurassic Park," he muttered, eyebrows raising when he saw the date published, 1990. It sounded… familiar. He tilted his head, trying to place it, before it finally clicked. "Oh! Aren't they, uh, making a movie? It came from a book first?"
"They're making a movie?" she asked, looking up at him with furrowed brows.
"Yeah, didn't you get ads about it on TV?" He tilted his head. "Did you only read the book?"
"Uh, no," she flushed, popping her knuckles like that might hide the fact she was clearly embarrassed. "I just saw the cover when the teacher held it up and well… dinosaurs, y'know? Thought it looked like something I'd enjoy."
He smirked. "You're picking a project book based on dinosaurs?"
"Listen," she hissed, leaning in close. "It's dinosaurs. Big, sharp teeth, and scales — what's not to like?"
That earned a quiet laugh from him, which only made her cheeks flush deeper.
"Alright, alright. Dinosaurs it is," he relented, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "So what's the plan? Are we writing an essay, making a poster, or are we just, y'know, building a whole-ass T-Rex skeleton in your garage?"
She snorted. "Please. I'd totally build a T-Rex skeleton if I could." Then, tapping her pencil against her notebook again, she flipped to a blank page and jotted down Jurassic Park at the top. "Okay, so we need to check the rubric, but I think it's supposed to be a poster or diorama with an essay attached," she said. "Character analysis, themes, symbolism, all that good stuff."
"Symbolism?" he made a face. "What's symbolic about dinosaurs eating people?"
"Uh, everything," she said, smirking at him now. "We haven't read it yet, but if the word 'Park' says anything, it'll probably have a lot of symbolism."
He groaned, slumping dramatically against the table. "Great. We're gonna have to pretend to be deep about it."
"You'll survive," she teased, giving him a gentle shove with her shoulder before she stood up and walked toward the teacher's desk, probably to tell him what they picked.
He wasn't sure how he felt about having to write an essay and make a poster with barely a month left before school let out. It felt like a total drag — especially since his other classes had already started wrapping things up instead of throwing last-minute projects at him. Seriously, who even assigns this kind of thing in late April?
But as he later leaned back in his chair and caught Penguin tapping her pencil against her lip, already jotting down ideas and looking way too cute while doing it, he figured he couldn't complain too much.
If they'd gotten this project earlier in the year, he probably would've been stuck with some stranger — not that it would've been bad. It just wouldn't have been this.
This kind of quiet, sitting-close-enough-to-bump-elbows-and-make-her-blush kind of thing.
And yeah, maybe the work itself was going to suck, but getting to spend more time with her? Just the two of them?
He couldn't really be mad about that.