Snippet #2630939

Erin is on her third mouthful of macaroni when Lane sits down across from her. The blonde had been too distracted to notice the text come in letting her know that her friend was on her way, and thus had been rushing the food to set off after her. Erin is not always the best at respecting requested distance when friends just need to be alone. Perhaps it's ironic, then, that she is so irritated when people she tells to leave her alone ignore it. People often come to hate in others what exists in themselves, after all. Because of her full mouth, Erin's attempt at a returned smile leaves her looking something like a puffer fish. She always did have the tendency to try and seem bigger when frightened, though often Erin ultimately shrinks into herself. I should have stood my ground more, damn it. I should be stronger than that, she swallows her food, and the grimace can almost be mistaken as a reaction to doing so without chewing properly.

"We will just be friends...for now," it's progress, if nothing else. Erin slides her hand across the table to squeeze Lane's. [b]"Honestly, I'd rather have friends than lovers. They last longer," not sure if her words are helpful or only rubbing vinegar in the wound, Erin withdraws her hand. Her phone buzzes beside her, lighting up with a message.



She smiles a little bit, but it doesn't quite fill up her eyes. The glass is a third full, at best. Still, light springs into them and is refracted to seem bigger at Lane's offer of her bowl of mac'n'cheese. Greedily, she pulls the bowl over to her. "You're my favorite person, Lane, I'm starving," she beams through a spoonful of pasta. It doesn't take long for her to be halfway through the bowl, the girl eats like a wild animal.

When Lane asks her if she's okay, Erin is quick to take another bite. It gives her an excusable period to formulate a response. Her first instinct, always, is to tell Lane everything. But her friend has gone through so much in the past day alone, it doesn't seem fair to go around placing more on her plate. Erin relies on her friends, perhaps too much. She's afraid that she will lean on them until their shoulders ache and their first instinct is to slide away. Besides, as long as she remains away from Nina and her awful friend, nothing will happen. Everything will be fine. It has to be. The years weigh heavy on Erin's back, though she jokingly bench presses them in an effort to prove that she is fine. She has to be.

The silence continues with a long drink of Sweet Tea. Her hand is tight around it, as if the condensation will have it slipping out of her desperate grip at any moment. Everything feels so impermanent at times like these. In a way that is far from comforting.

"Yeah, I'm fine! Just mulling over the speeches in class, I guess," she lies. Erin never lies to Lane, who knows her every detail. She knows of Erin's past feelings for Nina. Of Erin's unfortunate mistake with Sterling. Of how she built a toy car to zoom around her room in the seventh grade with a little light to scare away the shadows. "But I have shop next class, so I'll be able to clear my head. Nothing more soothing than the smell of freshly cut wood, right?"

Now there are other secrets.