Cutscene: Funny Feelings

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Emma Barnes ended the call with a smile on her face, dropping the phone into her lap.

Her father sat just a few feet away, his desk phone held up to his face as he held a muttered conversation with someone, the rest of his large wooden office desk littered with various papers and folders that were undoubtedly important.

Emma didn't bother to call him, patient to wait until he was finished to ask a question that had been bugging her. All the more time for her to think, anyway. Her hands locked over one another, perched on her crossed legs and she looked back down at her phone, Sophia's caller ID the last thing on her recent call history.

Her best friend was still not happy, not that she ever really was for long. Still, she was definitely a bit more irritable than normal lately. Just that last call had been a ten-minute long rant about how she wanted to "smash that blond fucker's teeth in with a bat".

Emma had to listen, of course. Someone had to.

Otherwise, Sophia might just act on her riled-up emotions, and from what she suspected about Greg, that would end up with one of them dead or expelled and Emma just couldn't have that.

Of course, it didn't help that Greg himself wasn't making the situation any easier. No, her new not-quite-boyfriend… seemed to derive some kind of insane joy out of messing with Sophia.

Every single time he saw her, Sophia would do her best to ignore him and the blond would smile a devious little smile before making a reference to their fight, already well aware that would be enough to get Sophia heated. The fact that Sophia not only had to apologize to Taylor but couldn't even take out her stress on the girl anymore thanks to Greg seemed to make things worse.

Emma wasn't exactly happy about it either but she wasn't going to try and go after Taylor so soon after Greg had told Sophia to back-off. Madison, the tiny thing, just followed along with whatever Emma did anyway, so she didn't have to worry about her stepping out of line.

Somewhat bad news aside, the revelation that Greg tore into Taylor herself was enough to lift her spirits. The irony that Taylor was paranoid enough to push away the one boy who actually cared enough to be nice to her was hilarious on a level that Emma couldn't deny and the idea that Taylor probably knew it was just as rich.

Sophia, on the other hand, wasn't exactly happy with the idea of mental or emotional anguish, her tendencies far more violent than Emma's. Thankfully, Sophia had decided to spend more time on her 'nightly adventures' in order to vent some of her stress. Still, Emma couldn't help but feel that something like that was only a stop-gap measure.

Just earlier today, Emma was nearly forced to stop the track star from mauling Greg at school when he somehow managed to beat her around the track, surprising almost everyone but Emma herself. Greg hadn't done much more than laugh at Sophia's constipated expression and even Emma couldn't deny that the whole thing was at least a little funny.

Huh.

Everytime Emma Barnes found herself trying to describe Greg Veder, she always found herself going back to the same word.

Funny.

Not just in the regular way, too.

Sometimes, it was funny in the interesting way.

Yes, that word described him more than anything else she could think of.

He was funny, in the sense that he made her laugh. Not like the other boys, who tried to be funny.

Emphasis on tried.

She rarely felt like laughing at the things they said, but she had it down to a science, perfecting the laugh that would give them the confidence to keep talking even though she'd rather not hear a single word they had to say. It wasn't like she really even bothered to pay attention to the things they thought were funny, simply laughing at the right times.

Greg, on the other hand, just said things. Most of the time, she didn't even think he was aware of what he was saying. Some of what he said, even with context, were outright ridiculous, and Emma couldn't help but laugh, even having to force herself to hold back sometimes.

It was… funny, the way he could do that to her.

She wasn't sure if she liked it.

She wasn't sure about a lot of things when it came to Greg. She wasn't sure about where Greg seemed to get all the money he had, nor the nonchalant way he spent it. She couldn't deny that it felt good, though, to hang around someone who seemed to have such a nonchalant attitude toward money, almost like it would never run out. Not to mention that it felt even better when he said he'd never think twice about spending it on her.

She especially wasn't sure what the fact that he reminded her of a mix of both Sophia and Taylor meant. Emma sat back slightly on the leather couch in her father's home office, frowning slightly at that, musing, before continuing her line of thought. The old Taylor, at least.

Greg… Greg was like the best parts of both of them put together and shaken up. He was confident and cocky, but somehow managed not to be mean about it, while Sophia couldn't help but express her ever-present dissatisfaction with others through harsh words and actions. Emma didn't mind it though, well aware that Sophia would never turn that on her.

That wasn't the only similarity, either. Greg somehow managed to display an aptitude for easy violence and skill at challenging people larger than him without flinching, just like Sophia. Another interesting similarity, a self-certainty, almost as if they both knew they had some advantage over them. Emma's smile widened slightly at that last thought.

Even then, Greg still showed off a happy-go-lucky attitude that even Taylor in middle school would have found slightly tiring to emulate.

He was funny and silly, with a casual airheadedness that lead to easy humor, but he only noticed it like a third of the time. All of this was strangely second-place to the forceful confidence he had, often at the expense of others' opinions. Nowhere was this more obvious to Emma than the night he had offered to take her to dinner.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o – – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

"Uhh… want to go eat food?" Greg had asked out of nowhere, the two of them just exiting the dark confines of the theatre. "Like, at a place?"

Emma tilted her head at the question, blinking slightly as she tried to parse it.

"I mean… I mean, together," he said, laughing awkwardly. A hand reached up to to scratch at his hair, his eyes avoiding contact with hers as he continued laughing. "We could sit and eat together and… talk, I guess. I mean, we didn't really talk during the movie because, well, you're not supposed to do that."

She opened her mouth to say something, unsure of what to add, but Greg interjected again.

"We don't have to talk, not if you don't want to," he rushed the words, trying to pre-empt Emma. "Or eat, either. We don't have to eat… I mean, if you'd rather not." An instant later, his awkward grin melted away to be replaced by an uncomfortable grimace.

"Scratch that, I do need to eat. Like, not just generally, like for survival but… hunger, you know?" He shrugged, tilting his head from side to side with the motion. "I'm hungry 'cause I didn't eat today. Not even breakfast, which I know, super unhealthy, but I was nervous and I didn't wanna throw up or anything."

Both their eyes widened at the same time as his last words sunk in and Greg's hands rushed up, waving frantically as he tried to explain himself. "Whoa, there… not implying that I'm gonna… throw up, I mean. It was a just in case thing, you know." He took in another breath and continued. "Sooo, yeah, I really do need to eat like I'm super hungry but if you don't want to eat, we can just talk. Or you could just talk and I listen… while eating."

The deluge of words stopped and Emma found herself being stared at by bright blue eyes, waiting for her to say something as she just blinked. After a moment, she let out a slight breath and smiled. "...sure, dinner would be nice."

"Awesome." His face lit up in a relieved smile, the nervous look in his eyes vanishing as he let out a sigh.

"I know a nice Italian place not too far from here," Emma spoke up, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself to fight off the slight chill of the New England evening weather. "They're pretty good… for the price."

Greg frowned. "I don't do Italian food. I do like-a me some spaghetti," he said, drawing out the terrible Italian accent, "but that's about it, really. So, I don't think Italian's gonna work for me."

She had found herself stumbled by the immediate brush-off, Greg not even bothering to consider how she would feel. It had been remarkably reminiscent of Sophia, her friend's brash attitude and disdain for other people's wants similar to Greg's unintentional ignorance of other people's desires.

Regardless, when Sophia did it, it was easy to feel annoyed because she knew what she was doing. With Greg, it was much harder because she could tell he honestly didn't notice. After a moment or two of shock, she shrugged her shoulders and simply decided to go along with Greg's plans for the rest of the evening.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o – – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

All of that had been one hell of an eye opener for her.

Greg's casual disdain for other people's feelings mixed in with his overbearing confidence and sudden bouts of awkward nerves. It had all been a bit much to deal with at first but as the night went on, she found herself laughing more and thinking less. In a way, it had been hard to reconcile him with nearly every other boy she had dealt with. Those other boys had damn near bent backwards to acquiesce to her and here was this… Greg, just doing whatever he felt like.

The way he seemed to ratchet back and forth between casual airheadedness and nervous hedging was another confusing situation for her to understand, leaving her to wonder how either of those two traits made up someone who could stand up to Sophia.

Powers or not, Sophia could be strangely intimidating, her intensity making up for her lack of stature. It was a puzzle.

A funny puzzle.

"Emma?"

Emma shook her head, the sound of her name pulling her out of her own thoughts. She blinked, green eyes focusing on her dad as he stared back at her.

"You wanted something, princess?" His voice was warm as it always was with her, affection that was focused far more on her than it ever was on her sister.

Emma smiled at him, her face peaceful while she tried to think of how exactly she wanted to phrase this. "Daddy, sorry to bother you. I just wanted to ask you a question."

Alan blinked before shrugging. "Shoot."

"What happened on Saturday night?"

Alan pursed his lips, a somewhat befuddled expression on his face. Leaning forward in his desk chair, he brought his hands together, touching fingertip to fingertip. "I'm sorry, princess. I don't know what you mean."

"C'mon, daddy, you know…" Emma smiled, shaking her head slightly. While she wasn't sure if she wanted to continue this… whatever this was with Greg, it couldn't hurt to make sure her dad didn't hate his guts. "Greg. On the porch that night."

Bringing a hand up to his chin, the lawyer scoffed. "You didn't ask him yourself?"

Emma just shrugged in response. "He said it was nothing, not important." Well, he hadn't said that much, not even bothering to answer the question the both times Emma had asked him before clumsily changing the subject.

"Princess, you sure can pick 'em," Alan replied, letting the air out from his chest with a deep sigh. "This one… he's not the worst boy I've ever met…"

"Huh?" Emma blinked, puzzled. Not the worst boy. Begrudging acceptance of a boy around his daughters? From her Dad? Normally, if Alan Barnes was asked to give an opinion on any male between the ages of fourteen and thirty-four that he saw expressing any sort of interest in his daughters or wife, the best he would have to say about them would be laced with outright suspicion.

Zoe Barnes called it being protective, "like a real man."

Her daughters called it "a bit much."

"The boy… Greg," Alan's mouth tilted downwards, not quite a frown but the closest thing to it. "He was very well-dressed. Not exactly respectful, but," he let out a grumbling sigh, "your mother seems to think otherwise for some reason." He shook his head, cupping his chin with one hand. "All in all, I'd say that… he doesn't seem… like he'd hurt a fly."

High praise, but not exactly accurate. Emma tilted her head, recalling the way Greg had nearly broken a football player's nose without the slightest bit of hesitation. "...that's nice to hear, daddy, but I just wanted to know what happened on the porch on Saturday?"

"Ah," Alan's tone lightened, a slight gleam in his eyes as he looked over at his daughter, "that. Well, your little friend greeted me, shook my hand, (strong grip on that one, by the way) and took off running."

Emma blinked, opening her eyes wide. "What?"

"Yeah, he just took off running. Think I mighta scared him off." Alan lowered his head back onto the stack of papers that had occupied his attention since Emma had first entered the room. "As fast as he was moving, I'm surprised he's not on the track team himself."

Emma fought a giggle, a hand rising to her mouth. If Sophia had her way, she'd break his legs just so that couldn't happen.

Yeah, funny seemed like the exact word to describe her situation with Greg.