garden

‎ it was ravi who first got him into running. he had them join a running group when they were both still living in new york, introduced him to new people that to this day micah would consider decent acquaintances at best, the kind he'd probably only have little reservations posting a 'happy birthday!' comment on their facebook profile if it ever comes up on his notifications. studies show that cardio helps with anxiety and depression, ravi texted him some five years ago, followed by a link to some yahoo! news article that micah thought was reminiscent of something an uncle who's just discovering the 'share link' feature on his phone might do. which is perfect, since you already do so much running away anyway LOL :)

and he still runs. most mornings, anyway, when he bothers to get out of bed early enough to play parkour with the morning new york crowd. or when he's not afflicted by crippling bouts of lethargy. it's easier to do alone, though he doesn't mind company. lainey has proven to have been a strange sort of companion, though they've since moved on from competitive silence to small talk to scheduled meetups at the intersection on her street in cardinal hill. today, they've graduated to getting breakfast together.

Inviting him to breakfast was less of a decision and more of an impulse. He was easy to talk to, and there had been something... off ever since he came back from the vacation he wouldn't mention. Lainey sensed something familiar in him, but she couldn't put her finger on it, and besides, it was just sad to eat a stack of pancakes alone.

"You looked me up?" she asked, setting her menu down so he could see her raised eyebrows. Lainey would be hard-pressed to admit that she'd done the same, gotten sucked into the search engine, poured over the odd clip on Youtube and old editions of Micah's college magazine. He wasn't half-bad.

She met his eyes, completely deadpan, and asked, "I don't seem joyful to you?"

"You know the rats that live in your apartment don't count as friends, right?" She shot back. But Lainey wasn't wrong—they both knew the inevitable conclusion to this exchange and it wouldn't be Jeanie suddenly learning to make sensible choices. Ugh. Hot people had too much power.

Sensible choices rarely ended in mind-blowing orgasms, after all.

"Depends on how you define 'good'," she answered, meaning 'no'. However, not being the type to be embarrassed by her own ridiculousness, that had never stopped her. Dancing was about having fun, not being good at it. Her eyebrows rose. "Why, you asking me to dance?"

She chuckled, reaching out and tucking a loose tuft of hair behind Jeanie's ear. Lainey's hand lingered against the other's warm cheek as she met Jeanie's eyes. She hadn't been able to figure out what it was that kept both of them coming back-- obviously they had sexual chemistry, but they would probably never be friends. Honestly, Jeanie pissed Lainey off most of the time, and she did it on purpose.

She wondered then, while she held Jeanie's face in her hand, if it the thrill of the competition-- whether Lainey could be good enough in bed to make up for their mutual disdain, whether they would finally have enough of the bickering.

Innocently, Lainey shrugged, "I'm asking if you want to dance... or if it's my place or yours."

The thing about Lainey’s place was that it was just nice, adult. Like being able to stay overnight in an IKEA showroom. And of course, it had Lainey. The only thing that would make things even better were if Seb was here, instead of back home at the apartment. But still, life was good.

“Morning!” He greeted through a yawn, the syllables warped by the sound, eyes scrunched closed with tiredness as he shuffled from the bedroom to the kitchen, in nothing but his boxers and Lainey’s bathrobe, barely covering his torso. He scratched at his unruly curls before his eyes fluttered open as he approached the sports agent, kissing the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her small frame. “I like your bed, it’s like staying in a five star hotel. I imagine the Queen had the same bed. Wait, is that why they’re called Queen-Sizes? I thought she was very small.”

But this was comfortable, sitting on the cold marble in CJ's shirt from the night before, the quiet punctured by his snores. Jesus, there was no way he didn't have sleep apnea or something. Wrapping an arm around her torso to pick up her still-hot mug, Lainey laughed at her groggy best friend with her eyes. "Morning," she chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder and scratching her nails through his hair.

"It's just a Tempur-Pedic, Ceej," she shook her head, playfully shoving his face away as he kept talking right into her mouth. Fucking morning breath. "I... actually never thought about why they're called queen beds, but that is a king. Got tired of you kicking me in the shin sixteen times a night. Which, by the way, what the fuck were you dreaming about this morning?"

More breaths, in, and hold, and out.

If there was one thing that could snap Lainey out of a panic attack, it was being called 'sweetie.' Her father was never one for coddling, and the only pet names she ever earned were 'champ' or 'ace' when he was feeling particularly old-fashioned. She wasn't often called sweet. Pushing herself up, Lainey pressed a hand to her chest and looked at the woman, cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"I'm not..." Sweet. "I don't do this." She took another deep breath, as if testing the waters, and leaned forward away from the wall once she was certain he wouldn't collapse into heaving again. "I'm... totally fine. Thank you, I-- I don't know what just happened." She would rather be stark naked next to the stranger. It would be far less embarrassing. "I'm... Lainey," she admitted. It felt strange to say her own name when she felt so disconnected from her body.

"See? That's your arrogance talking. Proving my point," Lainey boasted, pausing at the doorway to unlace her boots and kick them off. She took a long look at Liam sprawled out on her couch, a touch of a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Definitely a con," she decided, once and for all, as she grabbed the controllers and sat next to Liam on the couch.

Waiting for her to return a few minutes later with shots, Leo waggled his fingers in her direction when he saw her approaching. “Hark! A fair maiden approaches!” Always loud, like someone had lost the remote for his settings and he was stuck at 100, garnering the attention of a few people around them that shot him with less than pleasant looks. Leo didn’t notice though, his own gaze was stuck elsewhere. “Gimme.” Leo snarled under his breath, playing up a rather feral act, grabbing the shot glass and letting it get halfway to his mouth before he froze under Lainey’s question and subsequently, her demanding stare.

“This feels like a set up. I’m taking my shot before you take it away - or, like, throw it in my face.” Downing back his shot, Leo’s face morphed with confusion. Though he had no idea where it was coming from, it felt like a silly inquiry. Pushing Lainey’s own shot towards her, he gave her a half hearted shrug. “What kinda question is that? You don’t seem like a girl who fishes for compliments.” It hadn’t meant to be an insult - even though it came across as very insulting. It’s just - it was so clear that Lainey was smart, respectable. Truthfully, she could probably do much better than Leo, but he wasn’t about to bring that to her attention. “Don’t give me that look. You know what I mean. Lainey - look around us.” Though it didn’t feel all that fair, considering the audience The Pour House usually garnered, it was still the same regular crowd Leo was used to. It made the comparison all the easier. “You’re the coolest person here. By miles. Smartest, too.” And though she didn’t ask, he couldn’t help but add, “And prettiest. You don’t exactly have stiff fuckin’ competition, but. It’s true. You’re one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.”

Leaning back in his chair, Leo’s eyes narrowed slightly. He was still considering her latter question - if he respected her. Clearly they did, though respect was something a bit foreign to them, when they really mulled it over they landed on the obvious. Surely, this was what it was to feel an adoration for someone - that had to be the closest thing to respect they could muster. “Who gives a fuck what I think about you?” They finally came up with, shrugging again. “Do you respect yourself? That’s way more important - you shouldn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about you. It’s beneath you.”

Leo's normal playfulness, his accent morphing with something more.. medieval upon her arrival, and him snatching the shot glass away, was completely lost on her. Unfortunately for both of them, she was dead fucking serious. With an eyeroll, she snipped, "I'm not testing you." Her words were harsh, but the annoyance on her face hid something much softer. Wounded, almost.

She took the shot, throwing it back and not blinking as the burn tore down her throat. Leo's answer, though well-meaning, wasn't what Lainey wanted to hear. "I'm not fishing, asshole," she frowned, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair, watching him while he floundered. She ignored his directive, keeping her eyes trained on his face, "You're right. There's no competition. And that's still not what I asked." Though it never hurt to be called pretty or smart, Lainey's insecurity was burrowed deeper than Leo's middle-school Rolodex of compliments could scratch.

Then, they caught Lainey off guard. She couldn't help but laugh, genuinely, at his question. Leo had a point-- why the fuck did she care what he thought? Her laughter was short-lived, though, quickly replaced by what could only be described as... surprise. She didn't think Leo could navigate the emotional minefield of her insecurity so expertly, and... she didn't like it. "Easy for you to say. Society's built for you-- everyone respects you until you prove you don't deserve it, like, a minimum of six times," she shot back, aware somewhere deep inside her mind that she was taking out her shit on him. Being this messy in public was certainly below her, and yet...

The event had been quite....eventful for lack of better terms, running into a ton of new faces, some old while also avoiding some she'd rather not have contact with in the moment. Scarlett could feel her social battery starting to dwindle as she made her way over to the bar. "Crown apple and cranberry please." she spoke sweetly to one of the bartenders before turning to survey the crowd of people still piling in.

She smiled at the sight of the place, totally in love with the fact that so many Blue Harbor inhabitants had come out to support the cause and there hadn't been a single hiccup or disturbance. Brown hues continue to scan the area as he drink was slid towards her, eyes falling on a blonde who had an oddly familiar face. Taking a sip of her drink now in hand, Scarlett curiously watched the other woman as she drew nearer.

When she got close enough to hear a word or two come out of her mouth before it clicked for the redhead who she was, and the scandal that was attached to her. "Lainey? Lainey Caldweel, right?"

Plus, Mom always said there was nothing a killer outfit couldn't fix... which was less true than an open bar, but Lainey wasn't in the mood to split hairs. She leaned against the glossy wood, inspecting her fresh manicure, when an unfamiliar voice chirped her name.

Lainey looked up, smoothed out her pantsuit, and offered a smile to the woman. "Sorry, have we met?" With a grateful smile, she took her gin and tonic from the bartender and stepped closer to the redhead. "Remind me your name?" She wasn't exactly surprised someone knew her-- it was the perk of returning home, and all, but it was unusual for Lainey to draw a complete blank. Especially someone as striking as this woman, Lainey would certainly remember her face.

Suffice to say, Madisyn Huang did not deal well with not receiving attention. Even sneers and jabs aimed at her were better than being flat out ignored, especially by some hick bartender who didn't even have a memorable name. And she'd scream it from the rooftops until someone acknowledged her misfortune.

"Jeanie." She scoffed, her predictions right, rolling her eyes and continuing to blot at her makeup in the mirror. "That's the one. Weird just tonight? Clearly you've never interacted with her before. Bitch is a walking, talking freak-show." The alcohol in her system had made a grand old job of smearing her makeup across her lips, and she reached for a paper towel to wipe it off and start again, eyeing the woman beside her. Beautiful was the first word that came to mind. But there was something in her gaze that screamed trouble.

Caldwell. Now, that was a memorable name. But Madi couldn't pin-point where from, exactly. "Enchanté," She greeted with her signature smile, holding out her hand for Lainey to shake. "Madisyn Huang, I believe we both would have remembered meeting before."

She wouldn't guess that Madisyn was the dictionary definition of a girls' girl, but... neither was Lainey, "Oh, trust. I'm familiar with her freaky act." She rolled her eyes, rubbing her freshly-glossed lips together and said, with a teasing smile, "But if you see me go home with her tonight, it's just because my ex is busy with his husband."

Lainey shook her hand. It was weirdly formal for a bathroom, but she didn't mind. "Right?" she confirmed with a laugh. "But I swear, you look so familiar... not in a Blue Harbor way." Lainey clarified, lest Madisyn be offended by the insinuation that she was a local. While Blue Harbor produced a higher-than-normal amount of hot people, it wasn't exactly known for people like this, people who spoke French in the bar bathroom. She was most definitely a transplant. "You ever lived in LA?"

"Because what the fuck does that do for me?" she retorted, finally. Lainey straightened her spine, hoping that their height difference would intimidate the stranger into explaining themself, or something. "I want answers, and I'm not gonna get them by running away from you."

With a brow raised in challenge, Lainey waited for a beat, fully taking in the other for the first time. This time, she clocked the notebook in the other's hand. "What are you, taking notes? For what?" She had half a mind to step forward and grab the notebook out of the stranger's hand, but Lainey narrowly resisted. For now.

God, she was so irritating.

It took a moment for her brain to reboot and she forced herself to look back over at the bartender. Unfortunately, in her moment of distraction, he'd already moved off to serve somebody else. Damn it.

“Unlike some,” she confirmed pointedly, gesturing vaguely back at the dance floor. “They're around here... somewhere.” Or at least they had been. Okay so maybe there was a teeny tiny part of her that had broken away from the group in the hopes that a certain someone might be at the bar. But she wasn't about to admit it that easily. “I needed a break from dancing.”

Predictable didn't always equal boring.

"Somewhere, she says," Lainey chuckled, glancing at the dance floor as if checking Jeanie on her facts. "Drinking alone is nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. At least I'm not abandoning my friends to get laid," Lainey said, her face the picture of innocence despite her statement's implication.

"You a good dancer?" Lainey asked, taking a gratuitous look at Jeanie. "Wouldn't have figured you for the type." She couldn't help but say it like a challenge-- like Lainey wouldn't believe it unless she saw it.