Despite Penguin and Travis joining them at the table, it was surprisingly easy to slip back into their usual rhythm. The conversation flowed as it always did, with the group falling into familiar back-and-forths, teasing jabs, and inside jokes. It wasn't perfect, but it was manageable.
Travis and Penguin mostly stayed quiet, only speaking up when directly addressed. At some point, she had reached into her pockets and pulled out two halves of a sandwich, each neatly wrapped. She handed one side to Travis, who took it with a grunt, and then the two of them lapsed back into their quiet part of the table, barely interrupting the conversation that buzzed around them as they ate.
Larry's not sure if she spent the whole day so far with a sandwich in her pockets or if she picked them up from her locker before coming but honestly, he doesn't want to ask.
He tried not to stare too much. His focus kept drifting to her, to the small things that stood out — the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she was concentrating, or how her eyes would scrunch with amusement whenever one of them said something funny. She'd smile, just a little, but only enough for him to catch it before her attention shifted.
Sometimes, when their eyes met, he'd pull her into a brief, almost private conversation, just the two of them, but before either of them could really dive into a topic, someone would inevitably drag their attention back to the group. Still, he couldn't help but enjoy those brief moments. They felt like a quiet, secret exchange, even if only for a few seconds.
More than once, he caught her gaze flicking to the bracelet snug around his wrist, the one she'd made for him. Each time, her cheeks would flush a soft pink, and she'd release a quiet breath, like she was letting go of some unsaid thought. Larry couldn't help but enjoy the effect it had on her. As he talked, he'd absently fiddle with the bracelet, watching her eyes follow the movement. It was fun, to be honest.
They had spent most of their lunch talking about nothing in particular, but now he found himself wanting to learn more about her. As the rest of the table tried pulling her and Travis into their conversation, he leaned in slightly and softly said, "Hey."
She turned to him, and he took the opportunity to break away from the idle chatter. "I know we talked in the hallway, but I feel like that wasn't much of a conversation. More like... you apologizing and me responding."
Her cheeks pinkened slightly as she waved a hand dismissively, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, uh, I guess you could say that. More awkward small talk than anything else."
He chuckled, but then his gaze shifted to her face. "By the way, is your nose feeling better?"
She laughed lightly and raised her glasses to her forehead, rubbing the side of her nose gently. "It's still bruised, but it doesn't hurt as much anymore."
"That's good," he says, letting his face rest on his hand, and almost laughs when she mirrors his posture, her own hand propped up under her chin as if it were the most natural thing. It makes him feel a little lighter. "Wouldn't want your pretty face to hurt."
Now why the hell would he say that?
Is he insane?
He curses himself mentally, his brain scrambling for a way to recover from the slip. But with the look on her face, he knows there's no take-back. He's really done it now.
"Pretty face?!" she squeaks, her voice pitched high and quiet at the same time. She rears back like he'd slapped her, and her face goes so red he's half-worried she might actually burst a blood vessel.
"Oh god," he blurts, sitting up straighter and cringing so hard it feels like his soul might leave his body. He tries to mask his own embarrassment and the heat crawling up his neck by averting his eyes and waving his hands like he can physically push the words out of the air. "I'm so sorry. I, uh, I didn't mean to say that. Totally slipped out."
The second it's out of his mouth, he winces again. That made it worse. It's not like she misheard him — everyone at the table probably heard him — and now it just sounds like he regrets saying it at all.
"No, no, it's, uh, it's fine!" she insists, though her voice cracks halfway through the sentence, and it only makes her turn redder. "I just— pretty face?"
"I know," he groans, dragging his hands down his face. "I don't know why I said it, okay? It just came out!"
She giggles, and it makes him freeze. Not in a bad way, but in the sort of way where he's suddenly hyper-aware of how nice it sounds. And it's not like he was wrong, she does have a pretty face.
"I mean, it's nice," she says suddenly, and now she's the one flailing her hands like she wants to shove the words back into her mouth. "The compliment! Not— not that I think you— uh—" She presses her lips together like she's afraid of making it worse.
They just stare at each other in awkward, tense silence, like two deer caught in headlights, if deer could blush themselves into oblivion.
The moment shatters with a loud snort from behind her. Without even looking, she reaches back and smacks her fist down on Travis' thigh, earning a sharp yelp that has her giggling despite herself.
He snorts too, unable to help it, and suddenly the tension feels just a little easier to bear. She laughs with him, quick and breathless, even as Travis leans over and hisses something in her ear. Whatever it is, it makes her elbow him in the ribs, and Travis just grunts like it's a regular occurrence before leaning back into his own space.
He doesn't even have time to wonder what the hell is up with those two before Ash's voice rings out from across the table.
"Anyway!" she announces, loud and exaggerated like she's trying to fill the awkward space. "Moving on!"
"Please," both him and Penguin say at the exact same time, so in sync it's almost comical. The table bursts into laughter, and he can't fight the grin pulling at his lips. Penguin slaps a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking with muffled laughter.
"So," Ash starts, leaning forward and addressing her by name. "What do you like to do in your free time? You can't just be wrangling Travis everywhere."
She uncovers her mouth and laughs again, light and easy. "No, definitely not," she says with mock exasperation, shooting Travis a pointed look. "I actually, uh, draw in my spare time — pretty much the only thing I'm good at."
He knows from experience that is not the only thing she's good at, his bracelet pretty much screams it.
Ash has a grin on her face like she hadn't known that already. "Oh, neat! Me and Larry are actually artists, too!"
"Really?" Penguin perks up, her eyes darting to him for confirmation. "I didn't know that."
Honestly, he's a little surprised. With how long she's probably been watching him it says something that she didn't already know. Maybe she'd never actually caught him sketching? Then again, he's not much of a sketcher. What he really does is paint, and it's not like he can lug a canvas and an armful of paint bottles to class. Most of his work stays at home, stacked in the corner of his room or pinned to the walls.
Still, it's weird thinking about her not knowing.
"What kind of stuff do you do?" Ash jumps in again, clearly excited to dig into the topic.
Penguin shrugs, looking down and fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. "Mostly characters and portraits, but I've been trying to get better at scenery lately."
"That's awesome," Sal says, leaning forward. "Do you have any favorites you like to draw?"
She hesitates, glancing to the side before answering. "I guess… people? I like trying to get expressions and poses right. Animals too, but those are kind of hard since they don't sit still."
Larry almost snorts, but he bites it back. People, huh? That tracks, considering how much detail went into the sketches she gave him — though he'd never say that out loud right now.
Ash beams, and he catches the sly look crossing her face just a second too late. "You and Larry should talk shop. He's really good at detail work."
Oh, she thinks she's soooo smooth. Like he can't see exactly what she's doing — setting up a way for him and Penguin to talk more at length, preferably without an audience. Yeah, real subtle. She's about as slick as sandpaper.
Not that knowing helps the embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. And it's definitely not helping the slight flush he can feel rising to his cheeks. He risks a glance at Penguin, hoping to gauge her reaction, only to find her ducking her head slightly, her cheeks just as flushed.
Well. That makes two of them then.
She peeks up at him, her lips twitching like she's trying not to smile. "You're good at detail work?"
He shrugs, tugging at one of his rings and willing the heat in his face to die down. "I mean — yeah? I guess. But, uh—" He clears his throat, suddenly hyper-aware of everyone else at the table leaning in a little. "I don't usually draw much. I mostly paint."
She lifts her head and her eyes light up like he just said the coolest thing in the world. "You paint?"
"Yeah." He shifts, feeling weirdly self-conscious even though it's not like this is new information. Well, it is new to her, so… "Acrylic mostly, but I've messed around with other stuff too. Just, y'know. At home."
The look she's giving him is enough to make his heart stutter. Wide-eyed and interested, like he's just become ten times more interesting. And that's — fine.
Totally fine.
"That's so cool." She leans in just a little, her smile growing as she shakes out her hands in front of her. "I've tried painting before, but I can never get it to cooperate with me. 'Tis, like—" She pulls a face, wrinkling her nose. "It's so slippery compared to pencils, y'know?"
He chuckles at her description, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin. "Slippery, huh?" He drums his fingers lightly against the table. "Yeah, it's definitely different. Took me forever to figure out how not to make a mess out of everything. Pretty sure I still do half the time."
She laughs at that. "That's kind of reassuring, actually."
Before he can respond, he notices the table around them. Ash is leaning over to show Todd something in her notebook, Sal's quietly talking about something to Travis, Maple and Chug are involved in their own quiet conversation, and the low murmur of their voices hums in the background.
No one's paying attention to him or Penguin anymore, not really, and it leaves this strange little bubble around them, like the world just shrunk down to the two of them.
Frankly, it makes him a little nervous.
"Yeah?" he says, letting his voice drop a little lower.
"Yeah," she almost whispers back, her fingers twitching as she cracks her knuckles one by one — a nervous tic, if he's ever seen one. "I have a few experimental, quote-unquote, 'paintings' at home, but the colors are all muddy, and since I made them on paper they're kinda warped..."
She trails off, biting the inside of her cheek. Her shoulders have crept up like she's trying to make herself smaller, like calling them 'paintings' might have been too generous and she's waiting for him to point it out.
But he doesn't. Instead, he leans in a little, just enough to make her eyes flick back to him. "Messing around with it is how you figure things out. Even when it doesn't turn out right it's still practice, dude."
She blinks up at him, like she wasn't expecting it, then breaks into a grin so wide it scrunches up her whole face, lips pulled back and eyes squinty. It's only then he notices her two front teeth, slightly overlapped like her baby teeth took their sweet time falling out and left the adult ones to fight for space. He thinks about his own tooth gap, pretty much the opposite, and melts a little at the similarity.
She must take his staring the wrong way because her hand comes up to cover her mouth. He can see it — the way she's trying to tone down her smile, like it's automatic, like she's used to hiding her teeth.
And god, he wants to reach out, tug her hand away, and tell her she's pretty. Tell her she's got nothing to hide.
But they're basically strangers right now. Sure, they know each other, her knowing him more than he knows her, but that doesn't mean he can start acting like they're best friends.
So instead, he flashes her his best smile, wide and easy. He makes sure to pull his lips back just enough to show off his gap.
Her eyes flick to his mouth and when she lowers her hand, there's no hesitation this time. Her smile comes back, softer but just as bright, and the way she looks at him makes his chest feel too tight in the best way.
Before he can open his mouth and probably spit out something really stupid, the bell rings. It pretty much kills whatever moment they had going on, because Penguin perks up at the sound and turns to yank at Travis' sleeve. "It's time to go," she says, then turns back to him with a grin. "Twas nice to actually talk to you!"
She doesn't even give him time to respond before she's up and tugging Travis along, and he lets her, giving Larry one last vaguely annoyed look and waving at them as they go. The rest of the group follows suit, getting off the benches and gathering trays. Maple waves at them on the way out, and Chug gives a cheery, "See you guys later!" before jogging to catch up with her.
That just leaves the four of them at the table, and Larry's still stuck replaying that look Penguin gave him, so it takes him a second to realize Ash has been staring at him.
She's grinning.
"Ooooh my Gooood," she says, dragging out every syllable like it's physically painful for her to hold it in.
He groans. "Don't."
"Don't what?" she shoots back, leaning on the table. "Comment on how you're blushing so hard I can practically feel the heat from here?"
He doesn't need her to point it out to know, thank you — he feels like he's getting cooked by his own blood.
Todd clears his throat, already standing. "We should really get going."
He looks to him, the most reasonable person here, for backup, but even Todd's trying not to laugh as he walks away.
"Unbelievable," he mutters, grabbing up his own tray as they finally get up to leave, Sal giggling next to him.