Fine Line // Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

With the tension dulled - though still ever present - you sink your teeth into your lower lip and nod at the door. "I guess I should get out of here." You suggest. You didn't mean it. You wanted him to grab you by the waist and throw you over his shoulder and have the kind of sex in the back of his van that would make even the Devil blush.

But Eddie was respectful. He doesn't do that. As uncomfortable as he looked with the way he strategically placed his forearm over his lap, he still doesn't throw you over his shoulder.

"Right. You, uhh- You need a ride home?" He asks softly, almost dulling the way your brain silently answered him. Yes! You! You think, almost breaking into a laugh at your internal monologue's innuendo. Just a smile breaks through, and a small shake of your head.

"No, I got my car in the lot. I'll... See you tomorrow?" He nods in response and you do a quick little wave before leaving the room. The wall beside the door offers support as you lean against it, flushing from your cheeks all the way to your toes. Your heart was thudding so hard you thought it might burst. Your skin was all prickly and hot from where the situation had almost gone.

A cold shower. That's what you needed.

Somehow coherent enough to make it to your car and drive, you head home and await the oncoming tirade from your father once tattle-tale Jason spilled the beans on your display in the school cafeteria earlier.

Turning off the engine, you sit and glance up at the decadent house before you with a low exhale. Home. Some home it was. Your dad had his paternal moments, sure, but there wasn't a soul in there that you felt comfortable around. Maybe you could convince Brenda for a last minute sleepover. 

The coast is clear when you get inside other than a lamp on in the hall indicating at least one of your family members was home. Your dads car wasn't in the drive, so it wasn't him; he must be working late again. Which meant... Ugh. It was Jason. It isn't until you're in the kitchen sipping on a glass of water that the sounds of his heavy feet hitting the stairs goes as quickly as it comes. He was wearing that familiar glare as he came into the room and you look at him from the side of your eye as you elongate the time you took on that next sip just to annoy him.

"What the hell is wrong with y--" He cuts off as you raise a finger indicating to give you a minute. Then you keep sipping your drink, slower, just to piss him off further. "Really? You're a goddamn child." 

The glass empties. You swallow. Then you smile at him so sweetly it could have rotted your teeth had it been genuine. "Says the one throwing his toys on the floor because of a kiss." You snort and head to the phone in the hall, punching in the numbers like it was familiar as your own.

"Yeah well dad's--" You put your finger up again as the phone dials. It visibly irritates him, face going beet red.

"Hello?" Brenda's sweet voice was muffled in your ear, far nicer than the grating sound of Jason's as he berates you. You don't listen. Brenda had all of your attention.

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey! Are you feeling okay? Jessica said you couldn't come to practice because you went home sick." She asks, sounding genuinely concerned but the knowledge makes your stomach twinge and brow furrow. 

"You had practice? When?" Your tone is clipped, angry. Not at her, but at head cheerleader Jessica Mason for obviously moving it so you didn't go. Jesus, she was pathetic. 

"Today, during last period. Jessica got us all excused, said she couldn't hold it after school so we had to practice early. Did .. She not tell you?" It started to dawn on Brenda then, though apparently not quickly enough and you have to fill in the blanks.