Red Ribbon, Part4
This is one of the first things I wrote, and my lack of skill is apparent. From the over-done storyline to the awkward an amateurish writing this is so bad it’s entertaining.
Copyright (c) Lila Dubois 2007. This is unedited, and I am an infamously bad self-editor, so read at your own risk.
An hour later Mark and Liz were sitting comfortably in a both at a 24/7 dinner that served all you could eat waffles and coffee between midnight and five am which made it a favorite venue for a late night carbohydrate fix among the students at the university.
With a nod to nostalgia Liz had skipped the coffee and ordered a diet coke. She was slouched comfortable in the seat, one leg tucked up under her, the other swinging free, her heel making a rhythmic thump against the booth with every swing. Her pumps lay discarded under the table. Mark had assumed a familiar pose, his back against the window his long legs stretched out along the bench with his ankles crossed.
He was so tall that every time the waitress came by she had to dodge his feet because they stuck out so far. One thickly muscled arm rested along the back of the booth, the other along the table top. His big rough hands with their broad fingers were relaxed, occasionally he would lift the arm that rested on the back of the booth and use it for emphasis when making a point.
They had been sitting here for over forty minutes, reminiscing. They had done rounds of ‘how is so-and-so doing’ and ‘remember when.’ Their were tears of laughter in Liz’s eyes as Mark retold the story of Liz going toe to toe with the evil TA for their class. His colorful retelling, with Liz as a warrior of Arthurian proportions crusading for the repressed members of BUAD 428, was wildly inaccurate and hysterically funny.
When he wound down Liz went to wipe her eyes with her sleeve, an old habit from the time when sweatshirts made up most of her wardrobe. She stopped herself just in time and plucked a napkin from the dispenser.
Liz looked into Mark’s face, different now than it had been. Maturity had slimmed it down, refined it, but that wolfish grin was still the same. Though humor sparkled in his eyes and his posture was relaxed his wide grin was vaguely threatening, as if you weren’t sure if he were smiling or baring his teeth.
As the echo of her laughter faded they fell into a companionable silence. It was amazing how easy it had been to fall back into her old friendship with him. It had always been a friendship that had included simply the two of them. They had had only acquaintances in common, not friends, so when they were together there had been no one there to expect them to act like the star football player or the student leader.
Bending her head Liz took a long drink from her coke, letting the bubbles fill her mouth. She glanced up from beneath her lashes to see that Mark was studying her with cool appraisal. With a sigh she lifted her head, flicking her tongue across the tip of her straw to catch any stray drops. Leaning back against the creaky vinyl Liz prepared herself for what would undoubtedly be an embarrassing conversation, though oddly she didn’t feel as embarrassed as she should.
“So, how did you get an invitation to The Gathering?”