If We Ever Get an Hour Together (A Van McCann fanfiction)

Help Break Mine

Lucia:

I rolled down the window, leaning back against the seat. Gabi, Bondy, and Benji were all talking about some movie or other. Van said something a couple of times, but for the most part, he remained quiet. I glanced at him, repositioning myself a couple of times when it seemed my leg was all but pushing against him. 

"Are you comfortable?" He smiled at me. 

"Uh huh," I brought my hands together, trying to ease my fidgeting. "Sorry about that."

"No trouble at all. You're all but shoving me onto Benji but I'll manage." 

I laughed. "Fine, if you want I'll just shove open the car door and roll out onto the street so you'll be comfortable."

Now he laughed. "Of course not, wouldn't want to spend one of my few nights in LA tending to you at the hospital."

I leaned an elbow against the door, "Where were you guys before this?"

"New York for a bit. I have some family up there, but LA was always the true goal. Besides New York is too big for my taste. Always getting lost. Once, Bondy had to hail a cab for us because we got lost on our way back to our hotel. Took him about twenty minutes, him being the loudmouth he is."

"You're so mean."

"Me? Mean?" Van raised his eyebrows. "Don't know what you mean."

"Ok, sure." I rolled my eyes. Van crossed his own arms, leaning in to talk to me as the other three burst into loud laughter. 

"So what do you do? Besides tell people they're mean and almost do them in with a door."

"Not just mean, but so so dramatic," I looked at him. "I write."

"You write. What do you write?"

"Anything. Uh, a few stories, a little bit of poetry, mainly whatever I'm feeling that day."

He put his face in his hand, "Poems? And when are you going to let me read them then?"

"Never. Ever. They're a super big work in progress." I thought about the oodles of writing saved on my laptop. Suppressing a shudder, I looked back at Van. "Everything I write is a continual work in progress."

"Fair enough, but consider me your editor then. I would love to read whatever you write, really." He looked into my eyes again. He was really into eye contact. I broke it, fiddling with my shirt, and finally looked back at him. 

"Sure you wouldn't say something mean?"

He laughed.

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Hannah met us at the restaurant we told the guys about. It had the best Mexican food in all of LA, and bottomless margaritas. So everyone could have a good time and stuff themselves with Mexican food and margaritas. Except me. 

Van took a drink of his, and then looked at it, and took another drink. I ate a chip, drumming my fingers against the table. "What flavor did you get?" I watched him set the glass down. 

"Some berry pineapple..." he shrugged, taking another drink of it. "It's not bad at all. I'm not usually a fan of fruity drinks, but I could stand this." He looked at me again, a large grin coming over him. "Come off, are you going to look at me like a sad puppy because your sister won't buy you a drink?"

"Of course not, I don't know what you mean." I pretended to be offended, looking elsewhere but at him. I ate another two chips, trying to join in on the conversation.