The aroma of it clings to the air, making it feel dense.
It’s what I’d imagine the studio of that cooking show on the TV would smell like and I’m glad my mother never cooked like this in our house.
It’s too much.
“So, where’s that chaos twin of yours?” someone asks when the clanking of forks slow.
Tristen responds with a grumble, and I slink farther back in my chair, pulling my sleeves over my fists.
The rest of them go back and forth with him, calling him Thing Three, and I lift the neck of the hoodie up and cover my mouth.
If I’m quiet enough, they might not see me—
“Emmett’s too quiet for you.”
My face heats when I glance up and catch eyes on me.
All of them.
Five sets of different colors, five grins. One bouncing brow and another with scrunched up crow’s feet.
My chest burns.
“I-I-I’m—”
“I’m straight,” Tristen blurts from beside me and I yank the hoodie up higher, covering my nose. “He’s straight. We’re just friends.”
“Whoa, rude,” one of his friends says, but I don’t pay attention to who as I shrink back.
I swallow hard and stare at the pile of cold noodles drowning in tomato sauce.
There’s not much there, but would it be possible to incapacitate myself with it?
I’d rather do that than sit here any longer.
Jumping up, I take my plate to the trash and dump it. Wash it. Dry it and put it back where we found them with shaking hands.
All the while, my torso sweats beneath the thick fabric, the neck of it pinched between my teeth. I know it’s not mine to do that to, but I can’t help it.
This is too much.
My eyes burn.
I don’t belong here.
“Em?” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I jerk away from him. “They were just joking.”
I spin to face Tristen, hyper-aware of the audience staring holes through me, and whisper, “Can we go?”
The lines creasing his forehead dig deeper. “Yeah, bub. Yeah.”
“Okay,” I mumble and pull up the hood.
I’m baking in the sweatshirt but it’s better than the weight of their stares.
“Here.” Tristen holds out the key to the truck that I just stare at. “Just don’t drive off without me.”
Blinking, I snag the ticket out of here, careful not to graze Tristen’s palm, and bolt.
