fandomhigh | Living On Your Own, Friday, 8/8, Period 1

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living on your own

Living On Your Own, Friday, 8/8, Period 1

The home ec classroom looked more like an art class today, with home decorating catalogs strewn about and a stash of shoeboxes on one table with felt, paper, fake flowers, wallpaper and carpet samples, scissors, paint, modeling clay and other ~~moddable~~ supplies in abundance.

"Morning," Tyler said, once the students were mostly assembled. He had a large travel mug of coffee in one hand. "Today is our class on decorating, or, how to make whatever dump you're holed up in feel a little less like a dump."

He hesitated before talking again. "You don't have to do any of this. You are not your Pottery Barn rug or your clever coffee table shaped like a yin-yang. Stuff gets oppressive ... you do not want a life defined by stuff."

"But," he added, a smile dancing somewhere around his eyes, "I've been told I'm an extremist on this. And on the theory some of you might someday want more than a futon and a coffee maker, you're going to spend class today constructing and decorating dioramas of rooms in your future home. It can be a bedroom, a living room, a kitchen if that's where your mind goes. Here are some handouts on low-cost decorating for you to get some ideas."

He gestured to the table of supplies. "There's building stuff and some catalogs for more ideas over there. Go to it. I'm around if you need help."

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The whispering wasn't fair; the whispering meant that Cal had to work to hold back not only a grin, but also a catch of breath, a kick of his heart, and a flush to his face, all difficult things to wrangle down, especially when they surged forward so swiftly, you'd think they'd just heard the starting gun of an Olympic marathon.

Over four bucks.

His attempts to restrain it all came out as a slightly scoffing laugh. "Good to know."

She smiled, oddly pleased with herself. Did she unbalance him? She might have hoped so.

"I would never lie."

Well, according to Bob Presto, four bucks was a little steep, but that was talking about minute rates, and maybe with inflation of thirty two years worked in, it might come close. Cal lightly smiled back. "I know you wouldn't."

And now, bantering overwith, awkwardness took hold of her. She wasn't sure what to say even though she could talk forever. Just not here, and nothing he would wish to hear.

"How have you been," she decided to say. "Since the other night," she added that just because.

He wondered if that turn was inevitable.

"I've been okay," he said, with a duck of his head in a nod. It would have been a lie if he hadn't added, "since Wednesday. I just kind of...took a day," to get over himself, "to relax, and it helped a lot."

"Uh-huh," she murmured. "Know what you mean." She didn't get over herself though. She got over him. Or tried. Was trying.

Watching her thoughtfully, head slightly tilted, Cal asked, "How about you?"

"Oh, you know," she chuckled, the sound odd. "Been busy I guess. Keeping myself busy more like," she admitted without looking at him.

"Are you..okay?" Cal asked, lowering his voice into the same whisper they were restricted to in the cabin, watching her even more carefully now that he noticed she wasn't looking at him anymore. "About what happened?"

He wasn't sure what he meant more: the truth that he told her or the fact that he'd kissed her. Or even that he had wanted to.

What a silly question. What a silly boy.

She looked up. "Do you think I'm okay?"

Cal ducked his head shamefully, realizing the stupidity of his question. "No," he said quietly. "I guess you...really wouldn't be."

"...Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Cal. There's nothing for you to be sorry for. If anyone should be sorry it's me," she told him. "I feel now that I pushed you, wanting you to like me."

She shrugged, looked down. "I'm dealing," she whispered.

There really wasn't any pushing to it at all. If anything, it was more like Cal fell on his own volition. He frowned at Amber, confused by her response.

"But I do like you," he reminded her. Wasn't that obvious?

"I don't mean like like that, Cal," she said.

Cal's heart faltered.

"Like what?"

Surely he wasn't that dense.

"I mean like... like more than like." So this wasn't easy to explain. Amber's heart sped up and her cheeks grew warm. So much for keeping things light.

His heart was practically jammed in his throat from the effort to leap out of his mouth, but Cal couldn't help what came out instead.

"You mean...like like?"

It was asked in his usual wry wit, which he thought left him vulnerable to Amber thinking he was just teasing her, but he found himself saying it with a surprising earnestness.

He was teasing her and she wasn't sure what to make of that. Was that his polite way of casting her off?

Still, she found herself answering, her lips curving just slightly. "Yah, that's what I mean." If he laughed at her, she would have to laugh to for fear of looking like an idiot. Amber prepared herself for the inevitable.

There. That. A slight upturn in the corner of her lips. That was a smile; that had to be good.

"How do you know," Cal asked quietly, "that isn't what I mean, too?"

Amber was terribly afraid to look at him.

"I figured I would just know. But I don't. I was afraid," she replied softly.

"Well," Cal said, settling his attention to the front of the room, away from her, slumping slightly into his position with his chin in his hands, "I did. Mean it like that."

So there.

No way. She looked over at him, stared at his profile, his chin hidden in his hands.

"Say it again. Look at me and say it again."

Say it again, as if it wasn't making his heart palpitate so erratically he thought that perhaps the Object's heartburn had actually been contagious. Still, even if she was just messing with him, which didn't seem like something Amber would do, anyway, he slid his eyes back toward her and did as she requested. Demanded, actually.

"I did mean it like that," he repeated, wondering why she would need such an obvious thing restated. He told her about his dysfunction. He kissed her. What more evidence did a person need?

Amber wanted to see his eyes looking back at her when he said it, that's why. Obvious or not, she wanted to be able to read it in his eyes. Eyes were everything. If he was kind, if he was truthful, it would be in his eyes. She needed to see it.

"Then why did you not let me really kiss you the other night?"

The urge to look away was strong, but Cal understood what this was. They were just going to be honest with each other, was that it? But he wasn't used to honesty; he wasn't sure he could really even do it. He looked at Amber for a long time after she asked, searching her eyes with his as if to find the right answer there.

He knew the truth was simple, that he was afraid, but the answer was still more complicated than that.

"I didn't want," he finally decided, "you to feel like you had to."

Living On Your Own, Friday, 8/8, Period 1

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