Waking up to Chris quietly murmuring to her as he tried to slip out from beneath her had been a real fucking trip, mostly because Eddie had been half-convinced she was still dreaming the entire time. Not that she spends a lot of time dreaming about the boys in her school — she doesn't! — but the idea of falling asleep with someone and getting gently shushed back into the tangled sheets is sweet, and charming, and filled with the kind of tender longing that she's embarrassed to even look at head-on.
If she were to fantasize about the morning-after aspect of a hook-up, there would be worse people she could fantasize about than Chris Cunningham, that's for sure.
It hadn't been until he'd whispered a goodbye and shut the porch door behind him that Eddie woke up enough to realize that it had been real, that she can Chris had fallen asleep in her bed together, that she really had spent the past few hours curled up with her head on his chest and his arm around her back.
It had been hard to go back to sleep, after that.
That had been a while ago, though, and despite how much she might wish they could just sidle up to each other in school, she's not stupid. They run in different circles. Literally. Him talking to her would be social suicide. Her approaching him would just be inviting ridicule or retaliation, or both. So she contented herself with smiles in the hallway, with quiet cooperation in their one shared class, with the occasional look across the cafeteria at lunch time, and that's it. It's fine. They're friends, but they're not close. Eddie doesn't let herself get torn up about Brenda Matherson not going out of her way to talk to her, and she bummed a tampon off her last month. If that's not friendship, nothing is. So. It's fine.
When she opens her locker to have a slip of paper flutter past her to land on the floor, Eddie first thinks someone's asking to buy from her something. It's a fairly standard way to placing an order, setting up a time or place or requesting something specific and tucking the note into her locker, a more clandestine way of purchasing than straight-out asking. When she opens the paper, though, she has to take a second to figure out what the hell she's looking at.
It's a character sheet, obviously. But whose? She knows the handwriting of all the members of Hellfire, and nobody else would be nerdy enough to write out an entire sheet without being coaxed or bribed.
Unbidden, a memory floats into her head of Chris telling her he'd read the rulebook, that he had a vague understanding of how D&D worked, and her threatening to make him play. She squints a little more at the sheet in her hand, trying to compare it against the few quizzes she's seen of Chris's in their history class, and yeah, the more she looks at it, the more she thinks it's probably his.
Which. Holy shit. She has to find him. Is he asking to play with her? Does he want to sit in on Hellfire? She has so many questions. Forgetting what she went into her locker for in the first place, Eddie stuffs the sheet into the inside pocket of her jacket and turns on her heel to head outside. The track team are practicing or whatever it's called right now. She's pretty sure she knows where Chris is.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-01-30 03:17 am (UTC)If she were to fantasize about the morning-after aspect of a hook-up, there would be worse people she could fantasize about than Chris Cunningham, that's for sure.
It hadn't been until he'd whispered a goodbye and shut the porch door behind him that Eddie woke up enough to realize that it had been real, that she can Chris had fallen asleep in her bed together, that she really had spent the past few hours curled up with her head on his chest and his arm around her back.
It had been hard to go back to sleep, after that.
That had been a while ago, though, and despite how much she might wish they could just sidle up to each other in school, she's not stupid. They run in different circles. Literally. Him talking to her would be social suicide. Her approaching him would just be inviting ridicule or retaliation, or both. So she contented herself with smiles in the hallway, with quiet cooperation in their one shared class, with the occasional look across the cafeteria at lunch time, and that's it. It's fine. They're friends, but they're not close. Eddie doesn't let herself get torn up about Brenda Matherson not going out of her way to talk to her, and she bummed a tampon off her last month. If that's not friendship, nothing is. So. It's fine.
When she opens her locker to have a slip of paper flutter past her to land on the floor, Eddie first thinks someone's asking to buy from her something. It's a fairly standard way to placing an order, setting up a time or place or requesting something specific and tucking the note into her locker, a more clandestine way of purchasing than straight-out asking. When she opens the paper, though, she has to take a second to figure out what the hell she's looking at.
It's a character sheet, obviously. But whose? She knows the handwriting of all the members of Hellfire, and nobody else would be nerdy enough to write out an entire sheet without being coaxed or bribed.
Unbidden, a memory floats into her head of Chris telling her he'd read the rulebook, that he had a vague understanding of how D&D worked, and her threatening to make him play. She squints a little more at the sheet in her hand, trying to compare it against the few quizzes she's seen of Chris's in their history class, and yeah, the more she looks at it, the more she thinks it's probably his.
Which. Holy shit. She has to find him. Is he asking to play with her? Does he want to sit in on Hellfire? She has so many questions. Forgetting what she went into her locker for in the first place, Eddie stuffs the sheet into the inside pocket of her jacket and turns on her heel to head outside. The track team are practicing or whatever it's called right now. She's pretty sure she knows where Chris is.