After her encounter with Anthony, Lane had went right to her dorm room as planned. She'd changed out her swim wear and fallen onto her bed in absolute despair. What Anthony had threatened seemed to hit her like a load of bricks. Never in all the years of knowing this boy, had he said something so straight forward, to the point. Something that was meant to stick. It was a threat that, if given by anyone else, would frighten Lane. However, this was Anthony, and it simply made her uncomfortable and caused her only to worry more of Aimee. The threat would stay in the back of her mind of course, and remain there for quite a long time.
Now, Lane sits on the hard wood floor of her room. She's shuffling through a plastic bin, searching for 1 thing in particular. A pair of leather gloves. Upon finding them, she pushes the bin back under her bed and stands, examining her finding. The gloves are soft, almost brand new. The maroon leather is shiny and the sunlight causes white highlights to form along the edges. The silver buckles along the wrist of each glove are unscratched, and no sign of wear is visible. The story behind these gloves is a short one. One that Lane had kept to herself for quite a while. 3 winters ago, she had received the gloves in the mail. All that came with them was a note done is precise calligraphy that read 'To Elana' and on the opposite side read 'Yours truly Joseph Blackwell' Lane had threw the gloves under here bed in disgusted and had been untouched ever since.
Aimee would need these more than I do.
Checking her appearance once more in the mirror, she threw the gloves into a small bag and pushed the door open with plans to meet up with Erin and hopes to see Aimee.
Aimee heard the bell ring, chewing on her lip emphatically. She wanted food. And not just sour candy, but actual food. Vending machine, just go to the vending machine, she told herself. But that required leaving. And the safety of her dorm room was quite comforting right now. If she left, who knows whom she'd run into. All of the Yearlies were in this dorm, and they all had free roam during lunch. Anyone could be anywhere.
She sighed, putting a hand to her constantly growling stomach. The vending machine had the good pretzels in them. The ones with the extra salt at the bottom of the bag and the nice buttery crust. God, I sound like a commercial, she thought. But, with another growl coming from below, she sighed and stood up. Bracing herself for whatever would be outside the door, she opened it and turned toward the vending machine.
Of course, of course this would happen. I must be the unluckiest person on the planet! she groaned in her head. There in front of her stood the last person she wanted to see. Lane.
There was many, many things Lane had gone over in her head that she planned to say the next time she saw Aimee. She had reworded and reworded, over and over again trying to create the most apologetic apology to ever cross her lips. However, just as her door shuts with a click, so does the one across from her. And here Aimee is standing in front of her and all she can do is stare, her mouth even falls open slightly. Lane's eyes dart from the ground to the wall, to Aimee's eyes and she can't conjure up a sentence. Maybe it's out of shock, or surprise but what is there to say when you ripped apart the one string that held you and another together. Lane shifts her footing slightly, gripping the bag close to her side.
"Uh Aimee..." She mumbles, her eyes fall to the ground. First thing's first, make peace. Don't let her run away. Not today. Lane steps forward, she keeps her eyes down until holding up the small bag. "These are for you, um I uh I just had them laying around... but they aren't used or anything. And not that I don't think they are nice I just think you'd uh use them more.... Can we talk, alone? In my room, or yours or, or where ever, just alone?"
Aimee stiffened, staring at the gloves that were being held out to her. Did this mean something? A peace offering, perhaps? She took them tenderly, folding them against her chest. Images flashed before her eyes. Lane holding them in her bedroom, whoever had given them to her, and then nothing. These gloves had hardly been touched. It was a blessing in disguise, Aimee pondered. Had they been passed from hand to hand often, she most likely would have been overwhelmed again. Now she only felt slightly woozy.
It took her a moment to realize that Lane had said something, and she stumbled back into her room, knocking the door open behind her. Holding it open, she motioned Lane inside. She stood awkwardly near the bed, recalling the last time they had been in a dorm room together. Oh dear God, what is happening now? Aimee thought frantically. She wished someone--anyone--would come looking for her and take her away from this. What did Lane want to talk about? For God sakes, Aimee had barely had two hours to recover from their last conversation, and now another one?
She waited awkwardly, staring anywhere except Lane and the bed
A sigh of relief washed over Lane as the gloves were taken from her hands. It was the first step, the first step in what would be a very long process in gaining any sort of trust again. Aimee went even further as to awkwardly and clumsily motion Lane into her room and then the girl stood, silently waiting. Lane came in behind her, slowly she tried to find the best place to stand, ending up sitting on the edge of the bed. She looks us towards Aimee, searching her face she's surprised. The girl doesn't appear angry, or sad. She just looks sick. Is this really a good time Lane? Do you really want to do this now? Her heart rate seems to pick up speed as she opens her mouth to talk.
"I'm sorry...?" Out comes the weakest apology of her life. She shakes her head then tries again. "I'm sorry I told Erin -And I know there is nothing I can do to fix what I said, but hopefully, hopefully you will be able to forgive me in time." There's a pause, like she's finished "I don't want to stop talking to you, like I know Anthony and Erin wish, because they don't have things the way we do." She sighs her hands are suddenly gesturing with the words she's saying. "I never got to say this before but I'm sorry you lost your parents. I bet they were wonderful and cared for you and your brother so much." She didn't expect that to fall out of her mouth. "Aimee, I understand how you feel and I do not want to loose someone like you in my life." Her eyes seem to becoming glassy and her eyes shift to stare at the carpet.
Aimee grimaced as Lane started to apologize. She didn't know if she could handle coming to terms with Lane. While avoiding her may not have been favorable, it had certainly been easier. She didn't have to worry about what was going on between them, because nothing was if they didn't see or talk to each other. Now, though, it was all coming to a crashing end and Aimee didn't know how to stop it.
Her head snapped up as Lane mentioned her parents, her eyes widening and turning a steely gray. She didn't know what to say. Here in front of her this girl was apologizing for something she a) didn't do and b) she was the first one to ever say it. The black haired girl was the first one to ever mention it and say something like that to her in the past five years. Aimee felt her eyes swell up with tears again, but she blinked them away. "I..." she began, her voice raw. "I honestly have no idea what to say."
She sighed, leaning against the wall earlier. "I know you didn't mean to tell Erin. I was just angry, and I couldn't control it. I'm...I'm sorry, Lane."
Lane's eyes remain focused on her lap. "Thank you." She says quietly and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Hearing an apology was something Lane wasn't aware she needed or deserved right now, but it felt like breathe of fresh air after to long under water. There's something else you have to say... her mind pokes at her and she stands. Say it Lane, say it, you know Erin's right about this dragging her feet halfway to the door, she stops and spins around. "I'm not going to ruin the friendship we could have over one night of vulnerability and bad decisions." She scrunches her eyebrows searching for words. Words that might comfort the both of them. "I know you want space right now." She shifts her gaze to Aimee's eyes, the poor girl looks just as sick as when Lane had first saw her. "I'll leave." lets go, I think that's enough for one day...
Now, Lane sits on the hard wood floor of her room. She's shuffling through a plastic bin, searching for 1 thing in particular. A pair of leather gloves. Upon finding them, she pushes the bin back under her bed and stands, examining her finding. The gloves are soft, almost brand new. The maroon leather is shiny and the sunlight causes white highlights to form along the edges. The silver buckles along the wrist of each glove are unscratched, and no sign of wear is visible. The story behind these gloves is a short one. One that Lane had kept to herself for quite a while. 3 winters ago, she had received the gloves in the mail. All that came with them was a note done is precise calligraphy that read 'To Elana' and on the opposite side read 'Yours truly Joseph Blackwell' Lane had threw the gloves under here bed in disgusted and had been untouched ever since.
Aimee would need these more than I do.
Checking her appearance once more in the mirror, she threw the gloves into a small bag and pushed the door open with plans to meet up with Erin and hopes to see Aimee.
Aimee heard the bell ring, chewing on her lip emphatically. She wanted food. And not just sour candy, but actual food. Vending machine, just go to the vending machine, she told herself. But that required leaving. And the safety of her dorm room was quite comforting right now. If she left, who knows whom she'd run into. All of the Yearlies were in this dorm, and they all had free roam during lunch. Anyone could be anywhere.
She sighed, putting a hand to her constantly growling stomach. The vending machine had the good pretzels in them. The ones with the extra salt at the bottom of the bag and the nice buttery crust. God, I sound like a commercial, she thought. But, with another growl coming from below, she sighed and stood up. Bracing herself for whatever would be outside the door, she opened it and turned toward the vending machine.
Of course, of course this would happen. I must be the unluckiest person on the planet! she groaned in her head. There in front of her stood the last person she wanted to see. Lane.
There was many, many things Lane had gone over in her head that she planned to say the next time she saw Aimee. She had reworded and reworded, over and over again trying to create the most apologetic apology to ever cross her lips. However, just as her door shuts with a click, so does the one across from her. And here Aimee is standing in front of her and all she can do is stare, her mouth even falls open slightly. Lane's eyes dart from the ground to the wall, to Aimee's eyes and she can't conjure up a sentence. Maybe it's out of shock, or surprise but what is there to say when you ripped apart the one string that held you and another together. Lane shifts her footing slightly, gripping the bag close to her side.
"Uh Aimee..." She mumbles, her eyes fall to the ground. First thing's first, make peace. Don't let her run away. Not today. Lane steps forward, she keeps her eyes down until holding up the small bag. "These are for you, um I uh I just had them laying around... but they aren't used or anything. And not that I don't think they are nice I just think you'd uh use them more.... Can we talk, alone? In my room, or yours or, or where ever, just alone?"
Aimee stiffened, staring at the gloves that were being held out to her. Did this mean something? A peace offering, perhaps? She took them tenderly, folding them against her chest. Images flashed before her eyes. Lane holding them in her bedroom, whoever had given them to her, and then nothing. These gloves had hardly been touched. It was a blessing in disguise, Aimee pondered. Had they been passed from hand to hand often, she most likely would have been overwhelmed again. Now she only felt slightly woozy.
It took her a moment to realize that Lane had said something, and she stumbled back into her room, knocking the door open behind her. Holding it open, she motioned Lane inside. She stood awkwardly near the bed, recalling the last time they had been in a dorm room together. Oh dear God, what is happening now? Aimee thought frantically. She wished someone--anyone--would come looking for her and take her away from this. What did Lane want to talk about? For God sakes, Aimee had barely had two hours to recover from their last conversation, and now another one?
She waited awkwardly, staring anywhere except Lane and the bed
A sigh of relief washed over Lane as the gloves were taken from her hands. It was the first step, the first step in what would be a very long process in gaining any sort of trust again. Aimee went even further as to awkwardly and clumsily motion Lane into her room and then the girl stood, silently waiting. Lane came in behind her, slowly she tried to find the best place to stand, ending up sitting on the edge of the bed. She looks us towards Aimee, searching her face she's surprised. The girl doesn't appear angry, or sad. She just looks sick. Is this really a good time Lane? Do you really want to do this now? Her heart rate seems to pick up speed as she opens her mouth to talk.
"I'm sorry...?" Out comes the weakest apology of her life. She shakes her head then tries again. "I'm sorry I told Erin -And I know there is nothing I can do to fix what I said, but hopefully, hopefully you will be able to forgive me in time." There's a pause, like she's finished "I don't want to stop talking to you, like I know Anthony and Erin wish, because they don't have things the way we do." She sighs her hands are suddenly gesturing with the words she's saying. "I never got to say this before but I'm sorry you lost your parents. I bet they were wonderful and cared for you and your brother so much." She didn't expect that to fall out of her mouth. "Aimee, I understand how you feel and I do not want to loose someone like you in my life." Her eyes seem to becoming glassy and her eyes shift to stare at the carpet.
Aimee grimaced as Lane started to apologize. She didn't know if she could handle coming to terms with Lane. While avoiding her may not have been favorable, it had certainly been easier. She didn't have to worry about what was going on between them, because nothing was if they didn't see or talk to each other. Now, though, it was all coming to a crashing end and Aimee didn't know how to stop it.
Her head snapped up as Lane mentioned her parents, her eyes widening and turning a steely gray. She didn't know what to say. Here in front of her this girl was apologizing for something she a) didn't do and b) she was the first one to ever say it. The black haired girl was the first one to ever mention it and say something like that to her in the past five years. Aimee felt her eyes swell up with tears again, but she blinked them away. "I..." she began, her voice raw. "I honestly have no idea what to say."
She sighed, leaning against the wall earlier. "I know you didn't mean to tell Erin. I was just angry, and I couldn't control it. I'm...I'm sorry, Lane."
Lane's eyes remain focused on her lap. "Thank you." She says quietly and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Hearing an apology was something Lane wasn't aware she needed or deserved right now, but it felt like breathe of fresh air after to long under water. There's something else you have to say... her mind pokes at her and she stands. Say it Lane, say it, you know Erin's right about this dragging her feet halfway to the door, she stops and spins around. "I'm not going to ruin the friendship we could have over one night of vulnerability and bad decisions." She scrunches her eyebrows searching for words. Words that might comfort the both of them. "I know you want space right now." She shifts her gaze to Aimee's eyes, the poor girl looks just as sick as when Lane had first saw her. "I'll leave." lets go, I think that's enough for one day...