belleoftheballpoint reblogged
The old wiring in the payphone made Robin’s voice crackle and pop. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Chris.” “I’m not,” Chrissy whispered. Across the service station, Eddie was talking to the woman who appeared to run the place. It was unlikely he could hear anything she said, but Chrissy kept her voice as low. “His van broke down–” “Your life is a goddamned movie!” Robin crowed. Chrissy could almost hear her roommate pacing around their little apartment. “You run into the love of your life–” Chrissy nearly dropped the phone. “We were just friends–” “Me and Steve are just friends. You and Eddie are more like star-crossed lovers.” Cheeks flaming, Chrissy shot a glance over at Eddie again. He was looking at her–shit–and smiled when she caught his eye. Chrissy’s heart did a series of pirouettes and backflips as she tried to smile back without drooling. She wasn’t sure she managed it, so she returned to the phone. “I just wanted to tell you that I might be out late. That’s all.” Robin’s tone was just this side of condescending. “I’m pretty sure you found exactly what you want on the side of I-65.”
Oops, my hand slipped.
I’ve started a new hellcheer story. I’m calling it The Cold Night Air We Breathe, and while it has nothing to do with Chrissy and Eddie’s Infinite Mixtape, I hope you all like it.
This is not a drill, people! Her hand slipped!
