"Nice fall, Mia."
I turn my head as I rush down the hallway, barely making eye contact with some stranger ten feet away. He's smirking obnoxiously.
"Thanks," I force, ready to throw up for the umpteenth time this day, and keep walking. This has been my whole day, random people around the convention commenting on my fall. The first time it was actually pretty funny. The second time I laughed again, maybe a little less, and the third I just gave up. Now at half past five in the afternoon, I'm ready to strangle someone with my shoelace.
Honestly, my leg doesn't even hurt anymore unless I mess with it or hit it against something. I practically forget it's scraped until random people come and remind me. SitC is usually tiring, but with all this added craziness I'm just about to run to my hotel room and eat an entire jar of Nutella in bed while watching Netflix, but then PJ reminds me of my "previous engagement."
"Mia, didn't you say you'd come to dinner with me?" he asks, after calling me from his room just as I open up the jar filled with delicious hazelnut cream. As we talk, the smell of sweet chocolate butter fills the room, only making me want the Nutella more.
Deadpanning, I set the jar back down on the counter. There goes my free time. "Oh shit, totally forgot about that. I'll be down in just a minute, bye!" I hang up and give one last longing look at the Nutella before turning to my suitcase, debating what to wear. After a long day, I really don't want to stay in a dress and tights. Casona isn't fancy at all, and since as far as I know it's just going to be PJ and I, I put on a pair of grey men's sweatpants and a black t shirt, not even bothering with makeup.
I'm giving myself one last glance in the mirror when there's a loud knocking from the front of the room, presumably PJ. I glare through the wood of the door, imagining him there, obsessively checking his phone for texts from me.
"Coming!" I yell, tying my hair up and opening the door with one hand. As expected, PJ stands there on his phone, jumping a little when I barge out.
"Oh, good, you're coming," he says, "Dan and Phil are going with us, if that's okay. They're waiting in the lobby."
I force a smile, suddenly wishing I'd put on some makeup, "Yeah, that sounds good, fine." To anyone but PJ and myself I look perfectly chill, but we both know I'm dying on the inside. No, that's not okay.
"Don't worry, they're really cool. I'm pretty sure Dan owns those sweatpants."
I widen my eyes in a look of panic, "He probably does! They're men's pants! I'm pretty sure I bought them just because they looked like his!"
PJ just laughs at me, the supportive friend he is. "Honestly though, Dan and Phil will not judge. As long as you don't act like too much of a freak, which I know you won't, you'll be fine." He wraps me up and a hug and I let his curls touch my face.
"Thanks Peej," I mumble, happy for the support. We break apart and start the walk towards the elevators.
I look at him, "Oh, and PJ?" I ask. He looks back at me.
"Yeah?" he asks.
"Don't count on me not being a freak."
We laugh, even though me being socially awkward is a very possible threat, and press the button on the elevator to go down.
The lift comes up to our floor and we step in. The inside walls are filled with mirrors, except for the ceiling and floor. PJ whips out his camera, of course.
You can't have PJ without his little digital vlogging camera, especially not in a cool setting like a mirror-filled elevator. I snap a picture too, but that's just for myself. I have a feeling this is going in an actual video for PJtheKick.
