Stray Kids | e. munson

FIVE

TW:  allusions to child abuse, alcohol-induced aggression, gun makes an appearance again?? kinda filler chapter 

Eddie had spent every moment with Lola all week. They'd become like two peas in a pod; never parting for longer than the time it took to shower. They binge watched every horror movie they owned between the two of them, smoked weed more often than not, and even perfected the art of stovetop popcorn. Most days were spent at Eddie's trailer, and once the sun had set, he'd sneak through her window and read to her until they both fell asleep. She was having the time of her life.

And, because of this, Lola was beginning to panic.

They had settled into a comfortable routine. One she enjoyed so much more than she'd ever imagined she would. Summers were always difficult, but Lola had more fun already this summer than all of the past school breaks combined. She, regretfully, was beginning to...care about him. She found herself laughing at his jokes between movies, giggling like a little girl at the faces he made at her from the kitchen as he made her dinner every night, and genuinely just enjoying his presence at her side. She'd even begun associating his leather and smoke scent with some semblance of safety.

Eddie Munson wasn't safe. She knew he wasn't. He would leave her lonely and she'd have to reassemble the pieces of her heart all over again.

This was why, when he left through her window this morning, Lola didn't follow him. She needed to clear her head, to remind herself of the effort she'd put in to protect herself and why it was so important to remain passive. She convinced him that she wasn't feeling good. A headache.

It was the very first lie she'd ever told him.

In truth, Lola felt fine. Physically, at least. Psychologically, though? She was an absolute mess. All because of Eddie fucking Munson and his stupid hair and his stupid hands and that stupid laugh of his.

She resorted to the same thing she always did when she was anxious and had nothing to do. Lola spent all morning picking up her bedroom; organizing her bookshelves into alphabetical order and vacuuming the carpet and washing her sheets. When there was nothing left to clean in her room, she moved on to the front of the trailer.

Her father always left messes. But, today, she was thankful for them. She threw out dozens of empty beer cans and cigarette butts, cleaned the moldy leftovers from the fridge, and got rid of the expired cans in the pantry. She flipped the couch cushions, mopped the tile floors, dusted behind the TV and the photos hung on the walls.

Around six o'clock, she started preparing lasagna for dinner. Her stomach grumbled as she browned the meat, realizing she hadn't eaten all day. Another thing she'd grown used to; eating simply because Eddie was.

Rich Bower arrived home from work just as she was putting the baking dish into the oven, his lunchbox hanging off his shoulder and his blue jeans dirty from the hours spent working construction in the mud. "Looks good in here," he said.

"Thanks," Lola replied, wiping her hands on the dish towel by the sink. "Dinner should be ready soon."

He kicked his shoes off at the door and sat at the small, round table in the kitchen, running a calloused hand over his buzzed head. Sarcasm dripped from his voice as he muttered, "Nice of you to finally come home."

She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. The air was thick already. "Yeah, sorry. I've been kinda busy."

Rich looked up at his daughter, waiting for her to explain. When she didn't, he pressed, "With...?"

Lola could sense his steadily rising anger. She understood, though. He'd probably been worried. But of all the people in the world, the very last person she owed an explanation to was her father. He sometimes disappeared for weeks at a time, leaving Lola to her own devices while he did whatever it was he did with his temporary girlfriends. "With a friend," she stated flatly.