WHO: Lyra and Avery WHEN: Wednesday night WHERE: Avery's place WHAT: So what'd you get up to this week? WARNINGS: Probably none
I'll talk to her, Lyra had told Rosario as she was pressing herself back into the corner of the bus stop where the ice wind had a harder time finding her. The air still pricked at her face and her hands as she texted, the cold making her tense. Or maybe it was explaining things to Rosario or planning the conversation with her mom that was doing that, the conversation which, in Lyra's head, hadn't got further than Lyra heading back home and telling her mom stop. Being. A freak.
Yeah, real erudite. Real convincing.
Look— whatever. Ain't nothing she could do about it tonight, cuz Monica had rung her desperate to get someone to cover her shift tonight and yeah, Lyra could pick up a few hours, bank a few more dollars and some collegial goodwill and put the conversation off a little longer. Cuz honestly, the look of pride on her mom's face? She kinda didn't hate that. And yeah, she knew it was balls, and if she mentioned it to Rosario Rosario'd tell her it was balls too, so there wasn't any point in mentioning it.
The bus came quick, and there was a free seat over the heater, and Lyra stuck her hands down close to it till the powerful blast of heat has stripped all the cold out. Fingers less stiff, now, she messaged Avery, cuz she'd be finishing up work later on tonight and be almost closer to his place than hers and, sleepover, yeah? Yeah. A few flirty messages with him helped set her mood right, and god she missed him. It had been a stupid busy week. She hated it. It was balls too. Why didn't they live closer? Utter balls.
Lyra spent her hours trapped in the little drive through box thinking about him instead of her mom. Kinda hoping that he'd be in the next car that came through, even though she knew he didn't have a car. Whatever— she kept picturing it anyway; pushing the window open and leaning through to make out with him, maybe sneaking him into the room with her where he could just, y'know, stay low, outta sight, cuz the drive through window cut her off below the waist anyway.
This was not a great way to concentrate on getting people's change right. Made the time pass, though. And pretty soon her shift was over and she was at his door, knocking, eagerly awaiting that open door and the chance to bounce hard into his arms. She knew an end-of-shift Taco Bell uniform wasn't the sexiest thing she could be wearing, but she was also pretty sure she'd be out of it, soon enough.