It was lunch now, and the group was back to their usual chaos.
Travis sat between Sally and Todd, furrowing his brows as they tried to explain some math problem. He chewed absently on the same kind of sandwich Penguin always brought him.
Speaking of Penguin, she had her legs tucked under her up on the bench, practically sprawled halfway across the table as she chatted with Ash and Maple. He wasn't really paying attention at first, but her voice stood out enough to drag him in.
"No, seriously," she huffed, flapping her hands against the table. "I just ended up looking… old. Like, not in a cool way. Like, old old."
"Come on, it can't be that bad," Maple said, waving a carrot stick around as she spoke.
"You don't understand," she groaned, leaning even farther across the table. "My mama's the one who taught me — well, tried to teach me — and she does that thing with the super thin brows and the blue eyeshadow that goes all the way up to here." She dragged a finger over her eyelid and up toward her brow bone, then shuddered. "I love her, I was thankful, but it was very seventies, and I looked awful."
Ash snorted, covering her mouth as she laughed. "Oh, God. Yeah, okay, I can picture it."
"Exactly!" She threw her hands up, then dropped her face into them. "I'm lucky she actually likes my eyebrows, so she didn't touch them. She's always telling me never to pluck because then they won't grow back, like hers never did. And okay, I get that it worked for her back then, but I can't go to school looking like I got stuck in the wrong decade!"
"Why don't you just practice more?" Maple suggested, frowning.
"I have been!" she lifted her head again, cheeks flushing slightly. "I'm just — okay, first? I have to take off my glasses, and I can't see when I do, so I'm like an inch from the mirror trying not to stab myself in the eye."
"Oh no," Ash wheezed, smacking the table as she laughed harder.
"It's not funny!" Penguin whined, even as her own laughter bubbled up.
Larry shook his head, smirking to himself as he poked at his food. She was back to rambling, throwing herself into the conversation like nothing else existed, and honestly? He liked it. He liked how animated she got when she talked — hands moving, voice rising and falling as she bounced between ideas. Sometimes the way she switched topics tripped him up, but he'd learned to roll with it. It was part of what made her, well, her.
And right now, she was in her element, halfway across the table with Ash and Maple, dissecting makeup routines like it was the most important thing in the world. Not that he was really following, but he liked hearing her talk all the same.
He was just about to zone out completely when she suddenly perked up with an, "Oh!"
Her wide eyes flicked to him as she straightened up, dropping back down on her ankles as she reached over and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Me and Larry—"
"Larry and I," Travis cut in without even looking up from his work.
She blinked, then huffed, "Larry and I," before turning back to the girls like nothing happened. "We got a project to work on together."
He couldn't help but sigh at the grin that bloomed across Ash's face.
"Really?" Maple asked, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand. She gave Chug a playful nudge with her elbow, but he seemed more focused on eating than what was happening right now. Travis finally looked up, raising an eyebrow so high it could've hit the ceiling.
Penguin did a soft double-take at the look on his face and immediately grumbled, "Don't look at me like that." She turned back to Maple before anyone could chime in. "The teach gave the project today and told us to get into pairs. I didn't know anyone else but Larry in there, so it was easy."
"I'm sure," deadpanned Travis, earning himself her balled-up napkin straight to the face.
"Har har," she pouted, crossing her arms and leaning her weight against the table. "You just don't want me getting new besties."
He only rolled his eyes to the sky, mocking her under his breath as he went back to his work.
Larry couldn't help but snort. Watching the two of them squabble was always amusing. They seemed to find a reason to bicker every few sentences, and he couldn't help but find it hilarious. Teasing was just part of their weird little dynamic.
Still, it reminded him that they needed to talk more about the project. Reaching over, he poked her shoulder. "Speaking of the project, I know we planned some of it in class already, but can we go over it again?"
She perked up at that, twisting around to face him. "Sure! Though I think we can go over new stuff. Uh, since we both draw, I thought we could collaborate on the poster — with you doing the coloring?"
He bobbed his head and asked, "What about the essay? We have to read the book and write the damn thing."
"Right," she laughed, picking at her jacket sleeves, "Okay, so, I thought we could each work on and off chapters? Like, uh… ugh, how do I…?" Her face scrunched in frustration, her hand moving from her sleeve to dig her nail into her wrist.
He caught her drift, so as he reached over to tug her fingers away from her skin he said, "I read a chapter, analyze it, then you read a chapter and analyze it?"
"Yeah!" She perked up, scooting closer to him. "Like that! And if you want, I can work on stringing it all together at the end."
"I'm not letting you do all the work at the end," he said, huffing a laugh as he let go of her fingers. Swinging his leg to the other side of the bench, he turned to face her fully.
"It's not all the work if we're dividing chapters," she pointed out, her tone playful as she shifted to mirror him, pulling her legs off the bench and letting them fall the same way.
He didn't think much of it at first — it wasn't the first time he caught her copying his pose — but when he raised an eyebrow and leaned back, she immediately giggled and leaned back, too.
He snorted, shaking his head. "You do that on purpose, don't you?"
Her grin widened as she wiggled her shoulders and leaned in, pretty much purring out, "No idea what you're talking about."
God, she was so cute.
He wanted to yank her close and tuck her against him, but he couldn't, so he settled for letting out a laugh and pushing on. "Okay, but seriously, I was thinking about where we're actually gonna do the work."
She tilted her head, brows furrowing a little. "What do you mean?"
"We can't just drag a poster around with us everywhere. It'll get all fucked up and crinkled in our bags," he said, kicking his leg out to gently bump hers. "We kinda need to figure out where to work on it, and where to keep it."
She let out a thoughtful hum, leaning back on her hands and rocking slightly for balance. Her head tilted this way and that, like she was weighing her options. "That makes sense…" she mused, kicking her leg out to bump his in return. "I think just keeping it at one of our houses and working on it there is easier, but whether we go to mine or yours is the question…"
Her voice softened at the end, like she hadn't quite meant to say it out loud, and her cheeks were already starting to flush.
To be honest, so were his.
The thought of being at his place, just the two of them in his room, was enough to make his stomach twist a little. The last time they'd been in his room, it was loud and crowded. There were fights and laughter and games. It had been easy to relax then, easier to talk to her without overthinking it, but this? Going to her house? No friends, no distractions, just them hanging out — for schoolwork, sure, but still.
He'd never been to her house, and the idea of stepping into her space by himself, seeing how she lived, felt almost too personal. Would it be neat, or would it be messy like his room usually was? Did she have posters on her walls? Little knick-knacks on her shelves? And what if her mom was home?
…What if she wasn't?
He, with absolutely no hesitation, obliterated that thought.
Anyway.
Pushing his feelings out of the way with a bit of struggle, he tried to think about it objectively. Back in his room, he had all his paints, which they could use for the poster, but he knew she had some too. They'd probably have more than enough art supplies between them, so that wasn't the problem.
Paper, though — did either of them have enough for the essay? He wasn't sure about her, but his apartment was always running out. Between him and his mom, anything resembling paper got used fast, whether for his sketches or when she wanted to write down something important.
And what about distractions? His room wasn't exactly the quietest place. His friends came and went as they pleased, and his mom sometimes poked her head in to chat, even when he was busy. But her place? It'd just be the two of them — and maybe her brother if he was around. That definitely sounded better for focusing.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Was that really why it sounded better, though?
Who was he kidding — of course it wasn't. That wasn't even half the reason her place sounded better than his apartment, and he knew it. He also knew he needed to shove that thought down and focus. Seriously. Focus, Larry.
Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth before his brain could wander again. "I think," he started, pulling her attention back to him, "that your place is better. Mine's, uh— mine's not exactly the quietest." He laughed. "People pop in whenever they feel like it. Not exactly conducive to getting work done."
He got a nice front-row seat to her brain catching up with what his words actually meant, because her face flushed so prettily and god, he needed to get a grip.
"Hah, I guess… Yeah, I guess my house is pretty quiet…" She fidgeted, brushing her fingers against the edge of the bench before continuing. "Mama doesn't get home until around seven, and my brother — his name's Jayden, did I tell you that? — spends most of his time in his room doing god knows what."
She tilted her head back, clearly thinking it through, and he could feel it when her foot hooked behind his ankle. She started lightly rocking his leg with hers, like it was second nature, like she didn't even notice she was doing it.
"If we're gonna read and write, we need a quiet place… Mm…"
"Your place, then?" he asked, smiling when her cheeks darkened even more.
"Ah— yeah, my— my place is fine," she stuttered, eyes flicking away.
He took that moment to scoot a little closer, letting their knees bump together. She jerked at the contact, her head snapping down before flicking back up to meet his eyes, her eyebrows raised. He only leaned his elbow on the table, rested his chin on his hand, and smiled innocently. She squinted at him, clearly suspicious.
Purposely ignoring what he just did, he asked, "Today?"
"Oh— no," she was quick to deny, letting out a sigh. "Mama doesn't like having people in the house, especially when she's not there, so I need to let her know before you can come over."
He was a little disappointed, but also relieved, because it meant he had time to prepare. For all his confidence, he knew damn well that once he stepped into her house, he'd be surrounded by her. Her space, her scent, her stuff — just her — and he'd probably trip over himself trying to act normal.
Still, when he glanced at her and saw how her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, her nervousness only made her cuter, and he couldn't resist messing with her a little.
He let his shoulders slump, drawing out a dramatic sigh before dropping his voice, low and teasing, "Shame."
It hit just the way he wanted it to, if the hitch in her breath said anything. Her cheeks absolutely exploded in color, and when she looked up at him — he swore it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. She yanked at her sleeves and averted her gaze, and satisfaction curled warm and smug in his stomach.
God, that was so fun.
He bit back a grin and leaned his weight against the table, pretending like nothing had happened. "Tomorrow, then?"
"Wednesday," she squeaked. "Prob— probably Wednesday, okay? Y-Yeah…"
"Wednesday, then," he agreed, watching as she slowly calmed down. She reached up to pick at her lips, still avoiding his gaze.
He'll probably get home later, regret everything, and start screaming into his pillow, but for now?
He was definitely enjoying this.