Chapter 7: You’re Such A Messy Eater

Part 1

The diner buzzed with its usual late‑afternoon chaos — blenders whining, metal chairs screeching, someone shrieking in the back — but at a small table near the railing, Olivia and Erika sat inside a bubble of silence so thick it felt like static.

Olivia maneuvered her crutches around the chair with the grace of a baby giraffe learning to walk. One crutch slipped, clacking loudly against the table leg. She winced, cheeks puffing in embarrassment, then lowered herself into the seat with a dramatic sigh. Her ankle throbbed as she propped it on the chair beside her.

Across from her, Erika wasn’t just sitting — she was arranging. Napkins, utensils, hand sanitizer. Fork parallel to knife. Knife parallel to spoon. Spoon parallel to napkin. Her knee bounced under the table in a frantic, unconscious tremor.

“She’s half an hour late,” Erika said, eyes flicking to the entrance for the nth time.

“There must be traffic,” Olivia offered, though her voice lacked conviction. Her gaze stayed glued to the windows, tracking every silhouette.

Every few seconds, their heads snapped toward the door in perfect, synchronized dread.

Then back at the table.

Then to the door again.

A server approached with a polite smile and two steaming plates. Garlic, cream, and toasted parmesan drifted upward — warm, comforting scents that neither girl reacted to.

“Garlic parmesan pasta for you,” the server said, placing the bowl in front of Olivia, “and creamy Tuscan chicken for you.”

“Thanks,” Erika murmured, already glancing back at the entrance.

The food sat untouched, cooling.

Olivia twirled a single noodle, lifted it halfway to her mouth, then let it fall back into the bowl with a defeated plop. “I don’t even feel hungry.”

“That’s because you’re anxious,” Erika said, though she hadn’t touched her own fork either. She straightened the napkin again. “We shouldn’t have come. We should’ve gone to her place. Or called again. Or—”

“We already called twice,” Olivia reminded her.

Erika exhaled sharply, her thumb tracing the condensation ring on her water cup. “I just… I don’t know if we should be here. Acting like today is just another Tuesday.”

Olivia nodded, her braids swaying. “Yeah. It feels wrong. Like we’re skipping the cutscene where the party leader is supposed to be mourning.”

Erika looked at the door again, her stomach twisting. “Maybe we should just get these to‑go and—”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The sound was rhythmic, heavy, purposeful — cutting through the diner’s hum.

Erika’s knee went still. Olivia’s spine snapped straight. Neither turned around. They waited for the scent — the too‑strong floral perfume Sera used to mask the smell of her sweat.

“Sorry I’m late!”

They jolted so hard the silverware rattled.

Sera stood beside the pillar, breathless but beaming, her tote bag bouncing against her hip like she’d jogged the last few steps. Her hair was wind‑tousled, cheeks faintly flushed — the look of someone who had rushed, but not for the reasons they feared.

She looked… fine.

She looked terrifyingly normal.

“Ugh, my professor went on a tangent about equilibrium models,” Sera said, her voice bright. She tossed her tote onto the spare chair — the heavy thunk of her laptop echoing like a closing door. “I thought I was going to die of boredom. Some people just love the sound of their own breath, don’t they?”

Erika blinked. Olivia blinked. Neither spoke. Their brains were still catching up to the fact that Sera was here, smiling, acting like the world hadn’t cracked open the night before.

Sera’s gaze dropped to the table. “Oh! Food!”

Before they could greet her, she slid into the seat with a little bounce, scooting forward until her knees bumped the table. She reached for Olivia’s pasta without hesitation.

“I’m starving,” she declared, already twirling a massive forkful of noodles. “You guys are lifesavers.”

Olivia stared, mouth slightly open. “Uh—Sera? That’s... that’s my—”

But Sera was already chewing, humming with a forced, melodic appreciation. She reached for Erika’s chicken next, her fork hovering with the confidence of someone who assumed the world was hers.

Erika’s breath caught — not in anger, but in a vibrating mix of relief and suspicion.

Sera’s smile was bright.

Too bright.

Her laugh — a quick, airy giggle — was just a shade too light, like she was trying to fill every inch of silence before anyone else could speak.

Part 2

Olivia leaned toward Erika, whispering behind her hand, “Hey, I thought she hated garlic breath.”

Erika didn’t look away from Sera. “She does. And she’s already blown past her calorie limit for the day.”

Sera didn’t notice.

Or she was pretending not to.

She reached for another massive coil of pasta at the exact moment Olivia lunged to protect what remained of her meal.

"Okay, I think you've had enough," Olivia said, guarding the bowl. "That’s my food."

“It is the law of the land,” Sera declared, eyes bright with a mischief that was just a shade too sharp. “The strong have the right to devour the weak.”

Clink.

Their forks collided with a metallic ring that sliced through the diner noise.

Both girls froze.

A single glossy noodle lifted between them — a shimmering, buttery strand suspended in midair.

Olivia’s eyes widened.

Sera’s eyes sparkled.

The noodle stretched, trembling under the weight of garlic sauce. Olivia’s grip tightened, knuckles whitening. Sera’s posture shifted — relaxed, playful… almost predatory.

Olivia swallowed hard. “Sera… we can just… cut the noodle.”

Sera tilted her head, lips curling. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The noodle quivered.

They leaned in.

Closer.

Closer.

Olivia’s breath hitched.

Sera’s lashes lowered.

Erika slapped a hand over her mouth, mouthing no no no no no.

The noodle stretched to its limit—

SNAP.

One end slapped Olivia across the cheek.

The other landed neatly on Sera’s collarbone.

Silence.

Then Sera burst into laughter — bright, unrestrained, too loud. Heads turned. She leaned back, clutching her stomach, tears pricking her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “I really thought my first kiss was going to be with a girl over a strand of pasta!”

Olivia sat frozen, garlic sauce cooling on her cheek. The pink in her face deepened into a nuclear scarlet. Her internal wiring had clearly short‑circuited.

Still giggling, Sera leaned forward and dabbed Olivia’s cheek with a napkin — gentle, almost maternal. Her fingers brushed Olivia’s jawline, and Olivia’s breath caught all over again.

“There,” Sera said softly. “Restored to your former glory.”

She glanced down at her own stained collar and shrugged. For a moment — just a moment — the panic simmering behind her eyes eased, replaced by something softer.

Erika finally found her voice. “Sera,” she said carefully, choosing each word like it might explode. “Are you… feeling okay?”

Sera’s laughter softened. The brightness dimmed — just a fraction. A flicker. A crack.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to worry you both.”

Olivia’s fork clattered onto her plate. She leaned forward, brows knitting. “Sera…”

Sera looked down at her hands, thumbs brushing over each other — a small, nervous motion that didn’t belong to her. She inhaled, straightened, and lifted her chin with a practiced smile.

“But not yet,” she added, voice gentle but firm. “Not today. Today, I just want to be the girl who lost a fight with a noodle.”

Erika and Olivia exchanged a look — a silent, heavy conversation in a single heartbeat.

She’s not okay.

But she wants us to believe she is.

So… what do we do?

Erika opened her mouth to push — just a little.

But Sera beat her to it.

She clapped her hands once, the sound too sharp, too bright, shattering the heaviness before it could settle.

“Anyway!” she chirped, slipping back into that forced, high‑energy cheer. “Since we’re all here, why don’t we bring out the book and conquer the next level?”

Olivia blinked, still reeling from the cheek-touch. “Oh! Right—I brought it.”

Author's Note: Thank you for the long wait. The last week was pretty busy and I finally have time to continue my writing. Please remember to show your love and appreciation by tapping a 'like' and giving me a comment.