We Need To Fix This

"Come on," I say, reaching down and grabbing Eddie's wrist so that he had to follow, "We need to fix this."

As we walk over I try to push those thoughts away but it's hard. I try to remember that I don't want this, try to conjure up all the times and all the ways that Blake made my life a living hell and when that isn't enough I try to remember that each time he approached me, in the moment just before I gave in I couldn't think of anything but how much I didn't want that.

Because if this plan worked and if I managed to do what I was aiming to do I'd be alone with him once more. Isolate Eddie and Rachel by throwing myself in the way as a human shield. Falling on the grenade. Insert the other euphemism for self immolation here.

And if I managed to pull that off I'd need to remember that I fucking hate Blake Hyde, because I just knew he'd do everything in his power to make me forget it.

"Something seems funny," I say as I step up to them, almost yanking Eddie up beside me and next to Rachel.

"Oh it's nothing," Rachel replies dismissively, shaking off that last bit of her laughter and giving a nonchalant wave of her hand, "Blake here is just... it doesn't matter."

Great. Inside jokes and secrets. That's not a good sign.

"Well looks like we don't have a lot of time," I press on, searching for an opening to make this work, "I think the tour is about to start up again soon."

"Yay," Eddie says with no enthusiasm whatsoever, "Can't wait to hear more stories all about the utter lack of interesting things that have happened in this dull town over the last two hundred years."

Not the best approach and given that both Blake and Rachel look at him like his dourness is bringing them down I search for a pivot. Eddie plows on completely ignorant to the fact that his lack of enthusiasm isn't catching here.

"I mean one more story about some person who everyone has forgotten about and I just might jump into traffic. Not that there is a lot of that in this town. At least there are some interesting sights. Might be something to snap a picture of."

Somehow Eddie, out of all of us, says the wholly right thing. Or at least Blake says the wrong thing.

"Pictures?" Blake misreads the whole situation and oversteps his bounds, "Oh you're a photographer. You know that doesn't actually work on girls, right? I bet that's your in. Flash a cheap camera and pretend that you're an artist, is that your game?"

He laughs at his own joke. So loud and uproarious that he is utterly ignorant to the people around him and their reactions to it.

Eddie isn't laughing. He's pissed.

And I'm not laughing, I'm trying to hide my glee.

Because Rachel isn't laughing either. Instead she's taken a step back and crossed her arms over her chest, staring daggers at Blake and clearly second guessing his charms.

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