BROKEN (Herophine Fanfic)

11-ＰＲＥＳＥＮＴ

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By the time we finish clearing our stuff from the hotel ballroom, it's too late for my precious sweet potato fries, but it's easy to convince Jeremiah and Katherine to stop and In N Out.

It's awkward watching them make out in one of the tiny white booths.

But I guess I have to get used to that.

"Ahem." I clear my throat as I dip my last fry in ketchup.

Katherine pulls back. She digs her hand into Jeremiah's short hair. "I think we're making a scene."

His nod is happy. Equal parts drunk and drunk in love.

She slides off his lap. Turns to me with a goofy smile. "Bathroom?"

What the hell do we need to confer about?

I mean, her lipstick is smeared all over her face.

But Katherine is a master of makeup. She'll fix that a lot better without my input.

Something happened between her twelfth and thirteenth birthday. She traded her jeans for swing dresses, her Converse sneakers for kitten heels, her long, straight hair for a dark brown version of a Marilyn Monroe's short curls.

Katherine always looks like a pin up model.

It's a hot look and it suits her. She's always been into old stuff—

Katherine Hepburn movies, soda fountains, big band music.

"Jo." She wipes her smeared makeup with her thumb and stares at the red spot it leaves. "Now please."

"Sure." I pop my last french fry in my mouth. Chew. Swallow. Push the empty tray to Jeremiah. "It's all you."

He laughs that good-natured laugh of his.

There isn't a bad bone in his body.

Katherine could do a lot worse.

She has done a lot worse.

I need to stop worrying about them.

So what if they're rushing things? He's crazy about her. She's happy.

This is a good thing.

I shake it off and follow my sister into the bathroom.

It's cleaner than a typical fast food restroom, but it's not exactly a prime hang out spot.

The two stalls are empty. The tile floors are shiny. The sinks are utilitarian.

Katherine dips into a stall to grab toilet paper, wets it in the sink, dabs her smeared lipstick carefully. "Good fries?"

"Yeah." Not exactly a meal, but it's food.

"Jer told me you and Hero were talking."

"Jer told you that while his tongue was in your mouth?"

She lets out a coquettish giggle. "You know what I'm like after a few old-fashioneds."

"I do."

"He's worried."

Right. He's worried. The guy who only worries about customers taking care of their cars is worried about my ex-boyfriend.

We've had this conversation.

We don't see eye to eye.

Why continue to hash it out?

I unzip my purse. Dig for my mauve lipstick. Apply a coat for the sake of something to do.