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Six
Arnold
My fingers danced a jittery tap dance on the desk, pen in hand. The click-click-click of the plastic against wood echoed my racing heartbeat. Thoughts of Agatha swirled like a storm in my head. Her laugh, those deep brown eyes, and the way she'd stumble over a word, then laugh it off with an infectious giggle. She seemed so confident. So put together. The whole time, I was so nervous; my balls were sweating.
"Should I?" I muttered under my breath, glancing at the closed door that led to Fable and Lyric's sanctuary. Maybe they will have answers. They are girls, after all.
I stood up, chair scraping back with a screech that set my teeth on edge. Enough was enough. I needed their sage advice, or I'd spiral into a black hole of what-ifs and maybe-nots before I ever saw Agatha again.
With each step towards their office, my palms grew sweatier. What if they laughed? Or worse, what if they told me I was hopeless?
"Stop it, Arnold," I chided myself silently, taking a steadying breath. "They're your friends." Or as close to friends as I'd ever get.
The floor squeaked under my feet as I walked before reaching their door. I raised my hand, hesitated for a split second, then knocked.
"Come in," Fable's voice beckoned, a gentle lilt teasing the edges of my anxiety.
"Hey." I managed a small wave as I stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind me.
Fable glanced up from her desk, her smile fading as she took in my face. Lyric's eyes met mine, too, her brow creasing ever so slightly. They knew something was up; they always did.
"Rough day?" Lyric arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching as they did when she was concerned.
"Something like that." My gaze flicked between them, seeking assurance in their familiar faces.
"Sit down, Arnold." Fable gestured to the couch, her smile soft and inviting.
"Thanks." I sank into the cushions, the fabric cool against my skin.
"Spill it," Lyric said, leaning forward, elbows on knees.
I took a deep breath, my chest tight. "It's Agatha. We're meeting up again, and I'm just... What if it's awkward again?"
"Awkward's not the end of the world." Fable chuckled.
"Besides, she agreed to a second date, right?" Lyric's smirk was a challenge, sparking something within me.
"Right." I nodded, feeling a sliver of hope. "She actually initiated it."
"Then you've got this." Fable's confidence bolstered my own.
"Embrace the awkward," Lyric added with a wink.
"Embrace the awkward," I echoed, a laugh surprising me, bubbling up from somewhere deep and anxious. My face grew hot as my gaze dropped, and I played with my shirt.
I slumped into the couch; my hands clasped together as if I could squeeze out the nervousness like water from a sponge. Fable leaned back in her seat, tapping a rhythm on the table with her fingers.
"First time I met Lyric," she said, "I walked right into a glass door. Full faceplant."
Lyric snorted, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "She had a nose print on the glass for a week."
A laugh escaped me, unexpected and genuine. The image of poised Fable with her face squashed against a door was oddly comforting.
"See?" Fable spread her arms wide. "We've all been there."
"Totally." Lyric nodded, her grin infectious. "Besides, Agatha's seen you at your awkward best already—and here she is, coming back for more."
"Guess that makes sense." A warm flush crept up my neck. She had a point.
