former-fiarestofthem-all:
“Barely. It does sound like something I would say though…,” she mused while grabbing a generous and messy handful of the crunchiest orange chicken from their fave takeout place. “I mean, your room does smell exactly like vanilla and stress. I might have just been adding to the ‘stress’ part. Oh god, I told everyone that I was fucking Tripp Vanderbilt.” With that re-revelation, she shoved more chicken into her mouth, closing her eyes in hopes that this was all actually just a dream. Of course it wasn’t and when she peaked out from one eye, Mia was still there to remind her of reality. “P.S I was…you know, with Tripp Vanderbilt. A little. Like, once or twice. It was a really stressful month.”
“Okay, that was totally a lie. We have more coaster than we do groceries at this point. Plus you already used 'super cute’ to justify the new rug.”
Mia saved herself from responding by stuffing her mouth with a forkful of kung pao noodles. She’d been living under a small and somewhat dingy apartment, yes, but not a rock. She knew exactly who Tripp Vanderbilt was and exactly why her roommate just needed to let that horrified exclamation out with no judgement. “Did you tell them in a ‘screw you, I don’t care what you think’ kind of way, or a ‘I’m drunk and screw you and I don’t care what you think’ kind of way. Because there’s a difference, I’m afraid. Maybe everyone else was so wasted that you can play it off like it was the former?”
“That’s okay. As long as he didn’t make fun of our mug collection and/or steal from our mug collection -- like that one ‘guitarist’ I took home once that I’m still sorry about -- that’s okay.”
