MIRR/OR/ED

|Chapter 15|

Chapter 15. Fashion advice 

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A strong smell of eggs sizzling on a griddle float through the halls as we step down the stairs. The usual business is milling about the warehouse, each face doing something pertaining to their morning. We pass below the door frame of the kitchen, its doors propped open wide to show its bare room.

The restriction on my chest has lightened from the previous suffocation, although I can't help but linger on the confusion of what happened?

I try my best to push past the feeling, not allowing myself to focus too deeply on the loss in control. A deep chill still resonates in my veins remembering the familiar twist in my chest, as if someone was pulling something out...

Or dragging it out...

Shaking off the memory, I push past the curious questions left behind.

We make our way to the metal serving tables, the trays of assorted eggs and fruits are scattered across them from the camp members that have rummaged through the food. I scan my eyes over to find an easy breakfast to finish, since the hangover still sits heavy on my temples. Taking a seat at the nearest table my head sloshes at the movement, the alcohol still coursing through me causes the hunger pains to turn to an almost distaste for food.

Devin sits on the other side of me this time, the space between sitting bodies is much more comfortable than the previous meal. Many others have already finished up with their breakfast and are starting their days.

"So, how was you and Blakes morning?" My tone itches on mockery, and I raise my eyebrows at him, as I bite down on a slice of pineapple. The acidity floods my mouth, and causes my eyes to squint in reaction. A sneaking smile peaking through as I do.

He looks over to me with no change in demeanor but his lips curl into a smirk. "Good. He had me unpack food while he filled things up for breakfast duty. He trusted me with his whole life story and we had a wonderful heart to heart." His fist goes up to clench his shirt in sarcasm and I give him a fake laugh.

"Very funny. Ha ha." Dropping the bitten piece of fruit onto my plate. "Really, he isn't the type to switch his tune like that. So what'd you do to get on his good side?" I ask him.

My elbows are resting on the table and they move slightly at the motion of Devin's shoulders going up in a shrug."I don't know, Tom must have let him in on everything. He had questions about the previous reality and you, how you died. He had a lot of questions about you to be honest, did you two have a thing? Is that what all the looks are about?" He asks sneakily, pointing his egg speared fork at me. And his tone hints at jealousy.

I throw my arms up in defense and a laugh slips through my lips as heat rises to my cheeks, not from the truth of the accusation but that he feels the need to ask. "No," It comes out scoffed although I don't mean it to. "He had a thing for me a while ago but there wasn't anything I ever reciprocated..." I trail off a bit in embarrassment. I don't want to push on the question of why or how little romantic involvement I have had in my nineteen years of existing.

"It's okay if you were, or still are. That'd fit the puzzle pieces together as to why I pissed him off so much." His gaze is no longer on mine but pointed down at his plate, and his stance grows distant.

"No, no. I promise there wasn't anything or, isn't anything between us. To be quite honest with you," I swallow my pride. "I wouldn't have wanted anything between anyone." Shifting my position over, I try to hide my un comfort through the exposure to my loneliness... Vulnerability has never been a strong suite.