Chrissy gives him a shy little smile before she heads into the bathroom, shirt in hand, closing the door behind her. Strange as she feels, like she's an outsider intruding in his space, somewhere she doesn't belong, she at least can recognize that that's just in her head, not the result of anything he's said or done. There's no reason for him to be going out of his way for her like this, but he's doing it anyway. It means a lot.
On her own, it's easier to feel a surge of panic again, to wonder what will be on the other side of the door when she opens it. She tries to ignore that fear as best she can, staring at her own reflection in the mirror for a few moments, as if willing herself to pull it together. All she's doing is changing her clothes — a simple task, even if it's one she tends to dread.
Carefully, almost methodically, she unzips her hoodie, setting it aside before tugging her top overhead. She hates the way she looks as much as ever, but at least that's easily drowned out when she pulls Eddie's t-shirt on over her bra. After glancing down at it, checking the length, she unfastens and steps out of her skirt, too. The shirt is just as long, really, and she still has her shorts on underneath it, preventing her from feeling too immodest.
She takes her scrunchie out next, slipping it around her wrist instead, shaking her head to loosen her hair. Then she wets the hood of her sweater a little in the sink, using the damp part to clean off her eyeliner and the tear tracks on her cheeks. It'll have to do. With her cheerleading clothes neatly folded in her arms, she steps out of the bathroom and walks back to the living room. "Okay," she says. "I think this is better."
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On her own, it's easier to feel a surge of panic again, to wonder what will be on the other side of the door when she opens it. She tries to ignore that fear as best she can, staring at her own reflection in the mirror for a few moments, as if willing herself to pull it together. All she's doing is changing her clothes — a simple task, even if it's one she tends to dread.
Carefully, almost methodically, she unzips her hoodie, setting it aside before tugging her top overhead. She hates the way she looks as much as ever, but at least that's easily drowned out when she pulls Eddie's t-shirt on over her bra. After glancing down at it, checking the length, she unfastens and steps out of her skirt, too. The shirt is just as long, really, and she still has her shorts on underneath it, preventing her from feeling too immodest.
She takes her scrunchie out next, slipping it around her wrist instead, shaking her head to loosen her hair. Then she wets the hood of her sweater a little in the sink, using the damp part to clean off her eyeliner and the tear tracks on her cheeks. It'll have to do. With her cheerleading clothes neatly folded in her arms, she steps out of the bathroom and walks back to the living room. "Okay," she says. "I think this is better."