cozy cup

VII.

owen:

I could have told her to shut up

and you got hurt, too

I just feel bad about it.

vinny:

Well, apology accepted, then

I'm alright

no harm done, just a little embarrassment

Sending the messages off, he navigated through his texts to find his thread with Dee. He sent as many mean, angry, murderous emojis that he could, strings of them, one after the other while he waited for Owen to message back.

owen:

how about I take you out?

to make it up to you

Vinny's heart slammed hard against his chest, cheeks flaring back to life, glowing brighter than the sun setting outside his bedroom window.

vinny:

sure! 😊

when?

His heart was pounding in his chest as he waited once again for Owen to message back. His hands were shaking, palms sweaty, fingers unsteady. He felt uncomfortable with how warm his cheeks were, and threw his phone away from himself, watching as it bounced once on his mattress before stilling, screen-side down.

His mom would be home soon, and she would probably have something to eat with her. He should get up and set everything up for dinner.

Standing from his bed, Vinny stretched his arms over his head and walked through his bedroom door. Stumbling into the living area, he giggled at himself, once more glad that his mother seemed to be late getting back home from work. He wasn't certain what her reaction would be to him losing his balance or to him laughing so girlishly. She was a little stuck in her ways, firmly holding onto her views of what is and isn't manly, and giggling was something typically feminine.

His eyes rolled, lashes fluttering down instinctively to hide the reaction as he walked into the kitchen. Vinny stretched up to get a couple of plates down from the shelf, shuffled to the side to gather some glasses, balanced the dishes to duck down to gather some cutlery, then moved over to place everything down on the dining table. Plates perfectly centered in front of their usual seats, glasses placed just at the left-hand corner of them. Knife, fork, and spoon perfectly lined just to the right.

He had just finished lining everything up when the front door squeaked open, the clattering of keys ringing through the quiet of the house. His mom was home.

Dinner was a quick, quiet affair, and he was more than glad of it. He was able to think about Owen and where their date–or whatever the hang out was going to be called–might be. Vinny didn't go to many places outside of campus (when he was still studying) and work, so he didn't have much of a preference for where to go. The movies would be nice, or even just a visit to the cafe. They both knew the place, and they both knew what they liked there. Plus, Vinny was really comfortable there and would be able to talk more freely with Owen. Or maybe somewhere like the park. Open but public, and the weather had been really nice lately.

He was fine with anything, really, and he would have to be sure to tell Owen that.

When dinner was finished, he walked back to his room with the sound of dishes clattering and water running. Flopping onto his bed, he picked up his phone, pulse thrumming in his throat, and finally read Owen's reply.