Top Bunk

DAY 8

⌚ 3:50 AM

"El? Are you awake?"

El is trying not to wake up to Finn breathing into her ear. She's trying very very very hard.

"El!" Great, he's shaking her now. Still trying not to wake up.

"WAKE UP!" What did El do to deserve this? Oh right, she didn't pass Psychology. Great.

"Wake up, Elizabeth." Grace. She's still face-down on her pillow. "Leave me alone."

Not that El takes orders from Grace, but she opens her eyes. Upon seeing Finn standing over her, she feels a little better about waking up at dawn. Finn reminds El of her mother. Who was crying when she called El. That memory gets stomped down.

"This better be good," El groans.

She's still half-asleep when she rolls out of bed and feels around for her shorts. Finn can probably see her underwear as she pulls her shorts on, but like, half-asleep. So whatever. This means she's not in the right state of mind to be caring about the state of her hair, or how toxic her morning breath is, or how crusty her eyes are or how that trail of dribble on her chin. Way to look attractive to a cute boy, El.

"Where are you taking me?" El feels gross tickle her feet - she vaguely remembers jamming them into some flip-flops.

"We're having a picnic."

"Wait," El says, suddenly feeling more awake. "Are you - are you pulling a Troy Bolton on me?"

Finn's lip twitches a bit and El catches it. "...I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do!" El untangles herself from Finn's arm (when did that happen?). Whenever High School Musical comes into the picture, El's full attention is captured. She's awake now. "You obviously know what I'm talking about!"

He tries to deny again but El's not having it. Her mouth is running lose so when Finn stops abruptly, she collides right into him.

"Look," Finn says and El notices he's trying to block her view. "If I say that I'm pulling a Troy Bolton on you, will you shut up and eat?"

El nods.

"I'm pulling a Troy Bolton on you."

"I knew it!" 

Finn rolls his eyes, finally getting out of El's way, revealing a red-checked picnic blanket with a basket on it. She mutters another "Troy Bolton" before sitting down and peering into the basket. Upon finding a tupperware of strawberries, she digs in.

"Hungry?" Finn tosses a blueberry into his mouth. Upon chewing, the juices stain his lip a slight bluish tinge. Not like El's looking there or anything.

"No," El replies sarcastically after a pregnant pause, swallowing the last of the strawberries (every single one of the tupperware eaten by her and only her).

"I guess not, then," Finn says. He rolls a blueberry between his thumb and forefinger before bringing it to his lips. The absolutely orgasmic expression on his face does not make El's lungs collapse on themselves. She's only able to glare at him.

"I hate you."

"If you do, why are you having a picnic with me?"

The rate that El's heart is pounding is probably illegal in all fifty states of America. She's not sure if she likes it or not. "Well considering you dragged me out here - "

"You didn't protest!"

"Didn't have the energy to," El dismisses.

"Okay," El doesn't like Finn's grin, "what if I told you that you're actually sitting on poison ivy right now?"