Chapter Text
The darkness that had stretched endless and unshaken for hours was now softening at the edges, shifting into something lighter. The sky, once a vast, star-scattered black, was bleeding slowly into deep indigos and muted purples, the first hints of dawn creeping along the horizon.
Amanda glanced over at Angela again. She was still curled up against the door, arms folded loosely over her stomach, lips twitching slightly in her sleep like she was dreaming.
Something about it made Amanda’s chest ache, though she wasn’t sure why.
She reached over, hesitating for just a second before her fingers brushed Angela’s arm. "Ang... hey, Ang, wake up," she murmured.
Angela didn’t stir.
Amanda huffed, squeezing gently. "Angela."
This time, Angela inhaled sharply, her breath catching as she blinked blearily, eyes unfocused. She made a small, groggy noise—somewhere between a sigh and a protest—before stretching her arms up above her head, her hoodie slipping slightly off her shoulder.
Amanda bit back a smile. "You good?"
Angela made another unintelligible noise, rubbing at her face. "Mmwhat..."
Amanda just nodded toward the windshield. "Look."
Angela blinked, still half-asleep, but slowly turned her head—and then—
Oh.
The horizon stretched endlessly before them, bathed in a breathtaking, golden light. The deep purples of the early morning had melted into soft pinks, warm oranges streaking across the sky in delicate, feathery swaths. The desert landscape was bathed in the kind of light that made everything softer.
Angela sat up a little more, eyes still heavy with sleep but widening as she took it in. "...Holy shit."
Amanda let out a quiet laugh. "Right?" Angela exhaled, shifting in her seat, gaze fixed on the horizon. The light caught the curve of her face, highlighting the soft edges of sleep still lingering there, the way her lashes fluttered as she blinked, slow and drowsy.
"...Guess this is one good thing about driving all night," she murmured, voice scratchy.
Amanda glanced at her, just for a second longer than she probably should have. Then, she turned back to the road. "Yeah," she said softly. "Guess so."
Amanda drummed her fingers lightly on the wheel, her nails clicking against the smooth plastic. Her eyes flicked toward Angela, who was still staring out the window, blinking slowly, the last traces of sleep still clinging to her. The golden light spilled across her face in shifting patterns as they passed through stretches of open road, the pink-tinged sky softening her features, making her look more peaceful than she probably felt.
Her cheek was faintly imprinted with a crease from where she’d been pressed against the seat, and her hair was a little messy from the way she’d shifted in her sleep. Amanda had noticed, somewhere in the last hour, how Angela had curled in on herself, how she’d slumped further and further down until she was practically folded in half. It had looked deeply uncomfortable, but Angela had stayed asleep, occasionally shifting, brow furrowing like she was locked in some weird half-dream state.
Amanda huffed a quiet breath, then asked, "How’d you sleep?"
Angela turned her head slowly, like the words had to swim through layers of drowsiness before reaching her. Then, her brows pinched together. "Like shit."
Amanda snorted. "Yeah, figured. You were folded in half like a damn pretzel."
"I was not. "
"You were. I literally thought you were trying to merge with the seat."
Angela groaned, stretching her arms over her head with an exaggerated wince. The joints in her shoulders popped, and she let out a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. " God, " she muttered. "Okay, well, congrats, you were right. My body feels like it lost a fight to a trash compactor."
"That’s crazy," Amanda deadpanned, eyes back on the road. "It’s almost like sleeping sitting up in a moving vehicle wasn’t the best idea."
Angela shot her a look. "I was tired, Amanda."
"Oh, I know. You knocked out so fast I thought I lost you."
Angela rubbed at her face, voice still rough with sleep. "It was either sleep in this godforsaken seat or stay up and listen to your awful music all night."
" Awful? "
“Awful."
Amanda scoffed, shaking her head. "Wow. Incredible. This is actually the biggest betrayal I’ve ever experienced."
" Betrayal ?" Angela shot her a disbelieving look. "Amanda, you played Creed at full volume for like twenty minutes."
"That was for the bit! "
"It wasn’t funny!"
"It was funny!"
Angela groaned, dragging a hand down her face before glaring at her. "You have objectively bad taste in music."
Amanda clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Mm-mm, no. No, I don’t. You just have objectively bad taste in fun."
"Oh, I love fun," Angela shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I just don’t love feeling like I’m stuck in some weird midlife crisis dude’s aux cord nightmare." Amanda cackled. "You love my playlist. Just admit it."
Angela slumped further into the seat with an exaggerated sigh, rolling her head to the side to glare at her. "I’d rather admit that I have severe gastrointestinal issues in front of a packed stadium."
"God, you’re so dramatic."
"And you should be on a watchlist for your crimes against music."
"Okay, wow." Amanda sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. "Did not think I’d be verbally assaulted this early in the morning, but cool, good to know."
Angela smirked, folding her arms. "You did ask how I slept."
"And I deeply regret it."
"Sounds like a you problem."
Amanda shot her a dry look before shaking her head with a soft laugh.
Outside, the landscape had shifted while they weren’t paying attention. The endless sprawl of desert stretched wide around them. The horizon looked like it went on forever, the mountains in the distance bathed in hazy pink light. It was the kind of scene people took pictures of and slapped inspirational quotes over.
Amanda exhaled through her nose, fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel. Then, Angela sighed, shifting in her seat, wincing slightly as she adjusted.
"...Are you gonna get coffee at the next stop, or are you gonna keep suffering in silence?" Amanda side-eyed her. "That depends. Are you gonna keep complaining about my music, or are you gonna embrace the Creed?"
Angela made a face. " Never say that sentence again."
"Hater."
–
Angela let out a long, pained groan, letting her head drop back against the seat. The movement ruffled her already-messy hair, a few strands falling into her face.
"Alright, Ang," Amanda says, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the low hum of the radio. The golden morning light spills through the windshield, turning the dust motes in the air into tiny, drifting stars. "Look up a diner. Something close, something good. We gotta eat and stretch before we start looking for a hotel."
Angela, still half-melted into her seat, lets out a long, suffering groan. "Ughhhhh… Why do I have to do it?"
Amanda casts a sideways glance at her, arching an eyebrow. "Unless you wanna end up in a sketchy motel where we wake up to find our organs listed on the deep web, be my guest."
Angela makes a disgusted face but doesn’t hesitate before unlocking her phone. "Ugh. Fine. You could've just said 'please,' you know. Please, Angela, WHY won’t you, ANGELA!"
"Oh, my deepest apologies, fair lady. Allow me to rephrase." She clears her throat, voice taking on an exaggerated posh accent. "Dearest Angela, light of my life, finder of food, savior of stomachs, could you please, with your divine wisdom, locate a decent place for us to eat?"
Angela side-eyes her, unimpressed but fighting a smirk. "That's more like it."
Amanda grins triumphantly, eyes back on the road. Angela scrolls through Google Maps, the faint blue glow lighting up her face as she scans through options. "Okay, so there's a retro-looking diner about ten minutes from here, real old-school vibes. Or a breakfast joint with amazing reviews, but it’s a little further. Oh—there’s also a Denny’s, if you’re feeling particularly uninspired."
"Honey! How dare you suggest a chain when we’re on an adventure? Do you think Kerouac settled for Denny’s? Do you think—"
Angela groans, shoving Amanda’s shoulder with a lazy but firm push. "Okay, okay! Jeez. Old-school diner it is. Happy?"
Amanda hums, making a turn. "Delighted. See, that wasn’t so hard."
Angela rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, instead stretching her arms over her head with a yawn before sinking back into her seat. The car rumbles along the quiet streets, and for a few moments, all that fills the space between them is the soft murmur of the radio, the distant whir of passing cars, and the rustling of paper bags in the backseat.
Amanda drums her fingers against the wheel. "Now, while you’re in the mood to be helpful, go ahead and look up a hotel."
Angela groans again, tilting her head back against the seat. "Why am I the designated search engine?"
"Because I’m driving, and because you’re faster at this stuff. Plus, I’ll make fun of whatever you pick, and I know you live for the challenge."
Angela exhales through her nose, shaking her head but already typing away on her phone. "You're so annoying."
"And yet, here we are."
Angela scrolls through listings, tapping her foot against the floor. "Alright, do you want budget, decent, or luxurious?"
Amanda snorts. "Luxurious? Yeah, because nothing says ‘we’re on the run from our problems’ like a five-star suite."
Angela grins, clicking her tongue. "Hey! You are the one running from your problems, I just… I’m just here. DON’T know why! but I’m here. Alright, there’s a mid-tier hotel about fifteen minutes from here, good reviews, decent breakfast. Or there’s a cheaper one closer to the highway, but the photos make it look a little... murder-y."
Amanda flicks on her turn signal. "So we either go for comfort or potential crime documentary feature?"
"Basically."
Amanda hums, then grins. "Go for the mid-tier one. I like my organs intact."
Angela mock-sighs. "Fineeee. I guess I’ll cancel the one with bloodstains in the carpet.”
-
Amanda pulls up to the diner, easing the car into the gravel lot with a slow crunch of tires. The place looks like it was built decades ago and then promptly forgotten—neon sign buzzing faintly in the early morning light, a peeling red-and-white awning stretching over a row of fogged-up windows. The parking lot is half-empty, save for a few beat-up pickup trucks and an old station wagon that looks like it might belong to someone who’s been here since the Nixon administration.
Angela leans forward, peering out the windshield. “Wow. This place is… authentic.”
Amanda smirks, shutting off the engine. “You mean ‘shady as hell’?”
Angela nods, deadpan. “Yeah, that.”
“Perfect. Let’s eat.”
Amanda pushes open the driver’s side door, stepping out into the crisp morning air. The city is just beyond the horizon now, the high-rises catching the first slivers of sunlight. Angela stretches as she steps out, rolling her shoulders with a groan. “Okay, I will say—that view makes it damn near worth it. I’m telling ya..”
Amanda glances at her, catching the way Angela’s eyes linger on the skyline, her usual sarcasm momentarily replaced by something quieter. Amanda looks away before she lingers too long. “Told you,” she says, locking the car. “Now let’s go see if this place has the best pancakes of our lives or gives us food poisoning.”
“Living on the edge. How exciting.”
They push through the heavy glass door, greeted by the immediate scent of coffee, syrup, and something vaguely fried. The inside is just as rundown as expected—worn-out booths with cracked leather seats, a faded checkerboard floor, and a counter lined with old stools that have definitely supported the weight of truckers and night owls alike. A waitress, probably in her late fifties, looks up from behind the counter, blowing a bubble with her gum before it pops loudly.
“Sit anywhere,” she says, flipping a page in her crossword book.
Amanda and Angela exchange a look before heading to a booth by the window. The sunrise outside is fully breaking now, spilling light into the diner, catching the chrome edges of the tables and the rim of Amanda’s coffee cup when the waitress sets it down. The warmth seeps into the space, softening the edges of their exhaustion.
Angela stirs a packet of sugar into her coffee, watching it swirl before glancing up at Amanda. “So, what’s the plan? We check into a hotel, sleep off the last five hours, then… what? Continue throwing darts at a map?”
Amanda leans back, sipping her coffee with a smirk. “Sounds like you’re finally getting the spirit of a road trip, Ang.” Angela huffs a laugh, shaking her head.
“Yeah, yeah. Just—no more diners that look like a front for the mob.”
Amanda raises a brow, gesturing around. “You mean this fine establishment?” She grins, lacing the last word with a weird British accent.
“Yes,” Angela says, dead serious. “I’m like, 40% sure we’re gonna see a drug deal go down in the parking lot.”
“50 bucks says it happens before we finish our pancakes.”
Angela considers. “…Deal.”
Angela drums her fingers against the table, eyes flicking to the parking lot outside, like she’s genuinely expecting a deal to go down any second. Amanda watches with amusement, stirring her coffee lazily. “You look way too invested in this,” Amanda teases. Angela shrugs, flipping open the sticky laminated menu.
“Hey, I’m trying to make a quick buck. You know how many gas station snacks I could buy with fifty dollars?”
Amanda raises an eyebrow. “You act like I wouldn’t just buy you snacks anyway.”
Angela pauses, blinking at her. “…Yeah, but it’s different when I earn it.”
“Right. Because wagering on possible crimes is a noble pursuit.”
Angela hums, skimming the menu. “Gotta make a living somehow.”
Amanda shakes her head, but before she can retort, her phone buzzes on the table. She barely glances at it before flipping it face down, tapping the Do Not Disturb icon with her thumb.
Angela side-eyes her. “Not even gonna check?” Amanda shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “If it’s important, they’ll call twice.”
Angela eyes her for a beat longer, like she’s trying to decide if she should push or let it go. Eventually, she just lets out a soft “hmm” and turns back to the menu. A moment of silence settles between them, broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery from the other tables. The sunrise is creeping higher now, golden light spilling through the windows, catching in Angela’s hair where it rests against the cracked leather booth. Amanda doesn’t let herself look too long.
Angela taps the menu with her finger. “Okay. Thoughts on the ‘Big Boy Breakfast’? Because this thing has three types of meat and I feel like that’s excessive. Four pancakes? God.” Amanda hums, pretending to consider. “Counterpoint: we’re on a road trip. Calories don’t count.”
“That’s not how science works.”
“Who cares about science? We’re in the Wild West, Ang. Rules don’t apply here.”
“Oh, so nowwww you’re embracing the lawless nature of Arizona. Where was this energy when I suggested robbing a gas station for fun?”
Amanda deadpans. “That was a joke , Angela.”
“And?”
Amanda rolls her eyes, pointing at the menu. “Okay, well, if the Big Boy Breakfast is too aggressive for you, they also have ‘Lil Boy Breakfast.’” Angela wrinkles her nose in response.
“Yeah, no. I refuse to say that out loud to another human being. I’d rather order like, five sides separately just to avoid it.”
“Coward.”
Angela sighs dramatically, closing the menu. “Fine. I’ll just get pancakes.”
“No eggs? No bacon? Just pancakes? Who are you?”
Angela rolls her eyes. “I just don’t want to be weighed down by three types of meat before we even figure out what we’re doing next.” Amanda shrugs. “Fair. But I am getting the Big Boy Breakfast.”
Angela snickers. “Okay, but you have to order it with confidence. No hesitation, no shame.”
Amanda narrows her eyes. “I have never been ashamed of my food choices.”
“Good,” Angela says, smirking. “Because I will be watching you the entire time to make sure you don’t falter.”
Amanda sighs, shaking her head, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. The waitress comes back, notepad in hand, and Angela leans back in the booth, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Amanda meets her gaze, clears her throat, and with absolute confidence, says, “I’ll have the Big Boy Breakfast. And she’ll have the two pancakes, and coffee for both of us, thank yaw.” Amanda somehow decides to say in a weird accent.
Angela nearly doubles over, barely managing to keep her laughter at a reasonable volume. She’s grinning so hard her nose scrunches, shoulders shaking as she leans into the booth. Amanda, for her part, mostly holds it together—but the corner of her mouth twitches, and her ears definitely feel a little warm. She keeps her expression even as she hands the menus back to the waitress, who, to her credit, doesn’t react at all to the unhinged energy at the table.
Angela wipes at her eyes, still grinning. “That was—oh my god, that was insane .”
Amanda finally cracks, slouching forward to whisper dramatically, “ Humiliating . Embarrassing.” She shakes her head like she’s reliving a trauma. “I saw my life flash before my eyes, Ang.”
Angela wheezes. “You almost hesitated—I saw it!”
Amanda scoffs. “I did not hesitate. I delivered that order with grace and dignity.”
“You blinked weird.”
“That was confidence.”
“That was struggle .”
Amanda groans, dragging a hand down her face. “God, I hate you. I have decided I hate you, I’m telling you now.”
Angela beams. “No, you don’t.”
Amanda exhales sharply, flicking a sugar packet at her. “Yeah, unfortunately.”
Angela dodges it easily, still smug. She leans forward, resting her chin on her palm. “I gotta say, though. Proud of you. That was some real bravery back there.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Like, true heroism. They should give you a medal.”
“Angela.”
Angela keeps her chin propped on her palm, watching Amanda with that same amused, knowing smirk, the kind that always makes Amanda feel like she’s walking into a bit she isn’t in on yet. Her foot nudges against Amanda’s under the table, subtle at first, like she’s just shifting in her seat, but then it happens again—this time more deliberate. A little nudge, just enough to test how much she can get away with before Amanda calls her out on it.
Amanda doesn’t—at least, not verbally. She just gives Angela a long, slow blink, the kind that’s so deadpan it’s almost studied, before she stretches her legs out a little more, all casual, like she’s settling in for maximum comfort. Their ankles knock together again. Amanda doesn’t move hers away, but she doesn’t acknowledge it either, which somehow makes it infinitely more annoying. Angela narrows her eyes. Amanda sips her coffee, unbothered.
Angela hums, drumming her fingers lightly against the table. “So… Besides recovering from whatever horrifying amount of food you just ordered. Hotel..?”
Amanda sets her coffee down with a soft clink, tilting her head like she’s giving it some real thought. “Was thinking we find a hotel, I already said that but – maybe clean up, nap a little before we go exploring.” She flicks a stray sugar packet across the table. “Maybe something nice. Fancy. I’m feeling impulsive. I know I said mid-range but you know what, why the fuck not, YOLO they say, right? Okay… yeah fancy. No more mid-range, we’ll just degrade as the nights go by, and as my money begins to as well.”
Angela catches the sugar packet she’s been throwing midair, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “Fancy? What, like—valet parking, fluffy robe, view of the skyline fancy?”
“ Exactly .”
Angela scoffs, setting the sugar packet aside. “Okay. You do know we’re in Phoenix, right?”
Amanda waves a hand like she’s brushing away such a pointless technicality. “Phoenix has vibes.”
Angela raises an eyebrow. “Vibes?”
“ Vibes .”
Angela leans back against the booth, crossing her arms. “Right. And what, exactly, is fueling this sudden need for luxury? Because normally—” she gestures vaguely at Amanda, “—you’re the human embodiment of ‘it’s fine, I’ll just sleep in the car.’” Amanda shrugs, stirring her coffee lazily.
“I dunno. I’m feeling good. We’ve been in the car for hours, we deserve a little indulgence.” She smirks. “Plus, you should consider yourself lucky. This is a rare, once-in-a-lifetime event—me, willingly spending money.”
“Oh my god. Historic.” She immediately grabs her phone, fingers flying over the screen. “Hold on, I gotta– I NEED to tweet about this—”
Amanda lunges halfway across the table, swiping at the phone with zero hesitation. “Angela!”
Angela laughs, yanking it out of reach and shoving it back in her pocket. “Alright, alright, I won’t document the momentous occasion. But only because I think the world should find out in a more shocking way—like, I dunno, when you end up on a Forbes list or something.”
Amanda rolls her eyes, sinking back into her seat. “Okay, relax.”
Angela smirks, propping her elbow on the table. “You sure? You don’t wanna book a presidential suite while you’re at it? Maybe get a butler?” Amanda hums, tapping a finger against her chin like she’s actually considering it. “Y’know… that does sound nice.”
“Oh my god.”
Amanda grins, nudging Angela’s foot under the table in retaliation. “Too late, you encouraged me.” Angela shakes her head, but the fondness in her expression betrays her. She flicks a sugar packet back at Amanda, barely missing her coffee cup. “Whatever. Just don’t blame me when you see the bill and start hyperventilating.”
Amanda scoffs. “Please. I’ll be so relaxed in my fancy robe and complimentary slippers that I won’t even care.”
“Oh, you think we get complimentary slippers?”
Amanda leans in slightly, lowering her voice like she’s making a serious confession. “I expect complimentary slippers. If there’s not ANY I will be leaving.”
The plates land on the table with a solid clatter, the scent of warm syrup and sizzling bacon immediately wrapping around them. Angela barely gets a chance to register her own meal before her eyes lock onto Amanda’s plate—no, platter. The sheer size of it. It’s like something out of a food challenge segment on a reality show, one of those absurd, eat-this-in-under-an-hour-and-you-get-a-free-T-shirt monstrosities.
Angela freezes, fork halfway to her mouth, staring.
“ Dude . Hah!” Her voice comes out small, like she’s witnessing something too great to comprehend. “Are you feeding an army?!”
Amanda, still focused on adjusting her napkin, doesn’t immediately register the question. She hums absently. “What?”
Angela gestures wildly at the massive plate in front of her. “Your food, Amanda . Your fucking food.” Amanda looks down, finally—really looks—and the moment she does, she actually startles, like she, too, is only now realizing the extent of what she’s done.
“Oh my—what the hell ,” she breathes, expression caught somewhere between delight and horror. “Angela. Angela .”
Angela slaps the table, barely able to contain her laughter. “Amanda, this is insane .”
Amanda makes a small, wounded noise in the back of her throat, slowly rotating her plate like she needs to see it from all angles to fully grasp the reality of the situation. “Okay, I knew I ordered a lot, but seeing it all laid out like this? This is—I’m in over my head. I see that now.”
Angela is gasping, her laughter coming in quick bursts. “This is— Amanda , this is, like, enough for a family of four. No, six !”
Amanda drops her head into her hands with an agonized groan. “This is so much worse than I thought.”
Angela gestures toward the waitress, who has already walked away but is definitely pretending not to glance back at them. “I think she was judging you.”
“She was, I felt it,” Amanda mumbles into her palms. “The weight of her disappointment ? The silent pity ? I felt it , Angela.”
Angela snorts, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “This is honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Amanda finally looks up, resigned, gripping her fork with the determination of a soldier heading into battle. “Alright. Well. I can’t not eat it now.”
Angela tilts her head. “You can, actually.”
“Oh, so now you’re doubting me?”
Angela raises an eyebrow, flicking a slice of pancake onto her plate. “I’m not doubting you. I’m just acknowledging that human stomachs have limits. You have limits.”
Amanda levels her with a look, then, with exaggerated slowness, picks up her fork and cuts into her pancakes like she’s proving a point. “I’m not human,” she declares. “I am an unstoppable force.”
Angela watches, unimpressed. “An unstoppable force of pure hubris, maybe.”
Amanda smirks, taking a syrup-drenched bite. “Watch and learn, Ang.”
Angela rolls her eyes, stabbing at her eggs with her fork. “Alright, oh mighty food warrior. Let’s see how long that confidence lasts.”
Amanda takes another dramatic bite, chews deliberately, and points at her with the end of her fork. “I don’t appreciate your lack of faith.”
Angela smirks. “I have faith. I just also have eyes, and I can see you struggling.”
“I’m not struggling,” Amanda insists, but the way she sits back slightly, rolling her shoulders like she needs to prepare herself for the next bite, completely betrays her.
Angela hums knowingly, taking a sip of her coffee. “So, tell me, what’s your game plan here? Slow and steady? Or are you gonna tap out before the pancakes even get cold?”
“Wow, don’t be a bitch! Insulted that you think I would ever– ever tap out. Do you know who I am?”
Angela deadpans. “Yeah. You’re Amanda, and I’ve watched you almost pass out after one too many cookies in the Smosh kitchen, like, three separate times.”
Amanda points at her again, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, first of all? That was sabotage . Those cookies were deceptively large.”
Angela snickers. “Uh-huh. And you definitely didn’t try to convince everyone that ‘cookie-induced comas’ were a real thing.”
Amanda groans, slumping forward against the table dramatically. “You never let me live.”
Angela shrugs, smug. “Nope. Not part of my job description.”
“Oh, so bullying me is in your job description?”
“Basically.” Angela grins. “I mean, think about it, Amanda. If I don’t humble you, who will ?”
Amanda clicks her tongue, pretending to consider it. “Well, Ian , probably. Or Shayne . Or literally anyone in that office .”
“ Exactly . I’m just fulfilling my duties as your coworker and best friend.”
Amanda tilts her head, watching her for a beat. “Best friend , huh?” Angela rolls her eyes.
“Oh, don’t start with that, Amanda.”
Amanda grins, reaching across and poking at Angela’s arm with the end of her fork. “No, no , it’s cute . You like me .”
Angela shoves her fork away with her own. “Amanda! Ugh – gross . I tolerate you.”
“You adore me.”
“I endure you.”
Amanda lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “So cold, Babe. So cold. Ahh, my heart.”
Angela just smiles, sipping her coffee again. “Mhm.”
Amanda stares at her for a moment, then suddenly leans forward, lowering her voice like she’s sharing a secret. “You know, this is exactly why they always make us play couples in Smosh sketches.”
Angela nearly chokes on her coffee, setting the cup down with a clink. “Oh my god .”
Amanda cackles. “I know ww you’ve noticed!”
Angela groans, running a hand through her hair. “Well, yeah. you being my lesbian lover or some horny dude has definitely been stacking up your resume for like… the entire time ..”
Amanda rests her chin in her palm, smirking. “They just see something special in us. Something so different it’s so… gay..”
“Yeah, ‘cause we act like a married couple half the time.”
“ Angela ! Awe! Honey, That’s so romantic.”
Angela tries to flick a crumb of a pancake at her face.
Amanda snorts, catching it before it falls into her lap. “Wow. Abusive. – Disgusting. Nevermind then, I’m leaving you, fucking freak.”
“ See ?! This is why I have to bully you.”
Amanda just shakes her head, smiling as she takes another bite of her pancakes. The food is still daunting, but she’s making progress, and neither of them are in any rush.
The sun outside has fully risen now, warm light spilling into the diner, catching in Angela’s hair, making her eyes look softer in a way Amanda doesn’t let herself linger on. It’s quiet between them for a moment, just the hum of the world waking up. Amanda eyes the last few bites of her pancakes – not forgetting the different types of meat scattered around her plate – with something close to betrayal, prodding them with the edge of her fork. Twenty minutes ago, they had been fluffy, golden, drowning in syrup. Now, they look… sad. Heavy. Wrong .
She exhales, braces herself, and takes a bite.
Immediate regret .
Her jaw works, painfully slow, as the cold, syrup-logged pancake turns into an unholy combination of glue and damp cardboard in her mouth. She barely suppresses a shudder, swallowing with the effort of someone lifting a hundred-pound weight.
Across the table, Angela watches with the leisure of a woman who saw this coming ten miles away. She sips her coffee, perfectly composed, one brow raised in silent amusement. Amanda exhales sharply, stabbing her plate like it personally wronged her. “This is disgusting . God, I hate it here.”
Angela sets her mug down, feigning concern. “Oh no . What happened?”
Amanda glares. “Don’t do that .”
“Do what?”
“The thing .” Amanda gestures vaguely at Angela’s entire face. “That smug little—I-told-you-so thing .”
“I didn’t tell you so.”
“You wanted to.”
Angela shrugs, lips twitching. “Well. Who could have possibly foreseen this tragic outcome?”
Amanda groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my god .”
“You know,” Angela muses, resting her chin in her palm, “there was a brief, fleeting moment where you could have admitted defeat with grace. But instead, you chose to suffer .”
Amanda slouches forward dramatically. “This is worse than the time you made me drink straight pickle juice.”
Angela perks up immediately. “Okay! You know what, first of all? That was for science.”
“That was psychological warfare!”
“I had a hypothesis!”
“You had a death wish!”
Angela hums, unbothered. “I needed to know if the electrolytes thing was real.”
“So your first instinct was to trick me into suffering ?”
Angela gestures vaguely. “I took a sip too!”
“Yeah, and I watched you gag. Almost puke!”
“And yet, you still drank more than I did.”
“Because you lied ! You lied! You said it wasn’t that bad!”
Angela shrugs. “Oh, do not turn this on me!.”
Amanda levels her with a look so dry it could start a brush fire. “You deserve jail.”
Angela grins, nudging Amanda’s plate toward her. “Here, let me help.”
Amanda watches, both suspicious and intrigued, as Angela casually cuts off a bite of pancake and pops it into her mouth like she’s about to prove a point.
A beat of silence.
Angela chews.
Swallows.
Then she grimaces, her entire body flinching slightly as she shakes her head. “Jesus, Amanda… what the hell is this – Oh… my god.” Amanda collapses against the table, cackling. “See?! SE E ?! It’s wrong! I wasn’t being dramatic!”
Angela clears her throat, delicately pushing the plate away like it might come back to haunt her. “Yeah. No. That’s actually disgusting .”
Amanda wipes fake tears from her eyes. “Wow. This is a historic moment. Angela Giananana blahh ahhh admitting defeat.”
Angela scoffs. “Hundred percent my name, but hey! No! I am not admitting defeat.”
“Honey, You literally just said my food was inedible.”
“That’s just a fact.”
“Which means—”
Angela cuts her off by kicking her foot under the table. It’s light, a casual little bump, more habit than anything. Amanda just grins, stretching her arms overhead, victorious. “Alright,” she sighs, shaking out her shoulders. “plan.”
Angela drums her fingers against her coffee cup, considering. “Well, unless you wanna stick around and see how many other bad choices you can make, I vote we head out.”
Amanda hums, tossing her napkin onto the plate like she’s putting the whole ordeal behind her. “Good call. Before I lose all self-respect.”
Angela smirks. “Too late.”
Amanda flicks a few bills onto the table with the effortless nonchalance of someone who has absolutely suffered enough for one meal. She pushes herself up from the booth, stretching slightly, and Angela watches her with an amused tilt of her head.
“Look at you. So generous, So… just so sweet aren’t ‘cha” Angela muses, sliding out of the booth after her.
Amanda levels her with a dry look. “Yes, Angela, tipping is the height of generosity.”
Angela shrugs, stuffing her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. “Hey! Maybe you’re feeling charitable after that humbling experience.”
“Humbling?”
Angela claps a hand over her shoulder, mock-sympathetic. “Brutal, even. Life changing.”
Amanda groans, dragging a hand down her face before shoving the diner door open with a little more force than necessary. The hinges groan, the bell overhead jingling in protest, and then the early morning air rushes over them like a slow exhale. The city stretches ahead in muted colors, the sky a masterpiece of pinks and oranges bleeding into deepening blue. The street is quiet, a few cars rolling by, their headlights flickering out one by one as the daylight takes over.
Angela pauses just past the threshold, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh. “Damn.”
Amanda exhales, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Yeah.”
For a moment, they don’t move. The golden light spills over them, curling around their shoulders, pooling at their feet in long shadows. The air still carries the crisp edge of night, but the warmth is creeping in, a slow, steady hum wrapping around them, seeping into their skin. There’s something about this kind of morning—where the world isn’t quite awake yet, where everything feels untouched, where the possibilities of the day stretch out like an open road—that makes Amanda’s chest feel a little too full.
Angela nudges her. “Bet you feel real poetic right now.”
“I am poetic.”
Angela raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh?”
Amanda gestures toward the horizon, her movements fluid and exaggerated, as if she’s painting the sky herself. “Behold—the heavens ablaze with the fire of dawn.”
Angela snorts immediately. “Oh my god. Amanda!”
Amanda turns to her, solemn, dropping her voice into something low and reverent. “The sun, a golden god, rising to bestow its warm embrace upon the weary travelers—”
Angela claps a hand over her mouth, muffling her words. “ Nope . Hey, No! We are not – Absolutely not.”
Amanda’s grin widens as Angela’s palm lingers over her mouth for just a second too long, like she’s trying to make absolutely sure Amanda isn’t about to unleash more of her sunrise soliloquy. And really, Angela should know better than to give her any ideas—because Amanda, being Amanda, seizes the opportunity. Something mischievous sparking in her eyes, and then—slowly, deliberately—she opens her mouth just enough to act like she’s going to bite .
Angela yelps like she’s just been electrocuted, recoiling so violently that she nearly falls over. “Amanda!! No, no— no, hey! STOP that!”
Amanda barks out a laugh, quick to snatch Angela’s wrist before she can fully escape. Angela squawks in protest, squirming, but Amanda just tightens her grip, triumphant. “Come on, m’lady! Give me, give me. Gimme gimme” She wiggles her fingers dramatically, dipping into a low, ridiculous bow like some kind of unhinged medieval court jester.
Angela immediately tries to pry her arm free. “I am begging you to never say those words again—”
“ Annoying?! After all I have done for thee?”
Angela groans so hard it sounds physically painful. “Oh god. That’s REALLY nice to hear.”
Amanda’s grin only widens. “M’lady, you wound me.”
Angela glares at her, but her lips betray her again—twitching, curling up at the corners despite her best efforts. “I hate you.”
Amanda wags a finger at her. “Incorrect. Wrong. Try again.”
Angela exhales sharply through her nose, then shoves Amanda’s shoulder—not hard, just enough to make a point. Amanda lets her go, finally, shaking her head as the ridiculous accent slips away. One second, Angela is standing there, looking smug, harmless. The next, she’s a blur of movement, teeth bared like she’s about to actually bite her .
“ HEY— Ey ey ey– ‘EY! ” Amanda jerks back so hard she nearly trips over her own feet, hands flying up in a desperate attempt to block whatever feral nonsense is happening. “What the hell?! ”
But Angela is relentless. She grabs onto the front of Amanda’s jacket, using it as leverage, yanking herself closer as if sheer determination will make up for the height difference. She’s clinging onto Amanda like some kind of chaotic goblin, arms wrapped tight around her shoulders, legs braced like she’s about to scale a tree .
“Hey! Hey! Give me, I’m not letting you win— ” Angela growls, shaking her slightly, like that’s going to do anything. “Amanda! I– Ugh — JUST… Get down here! ”
Amanda is laughing now, breathless and disbelieving, stumbling back another step as she tries to pry Angela off . “ What are you doing?! ”
Angela, still clamped onto her like a determined koala, simply grins. “Winning! What does it look like I’M DOING.”
Amanda scoffs. “Winning what?! This is not a game, this is war! ”
Angela, apparently, takes that as a challenge. She hoists herself up further , which is an absolutely insane move considering Amanda is already struggling to keep her balance. Amanda flails for a second, trying to counterbalance, but the sheer audacity of Angela’s commitment to this ridiculous bit is throwing her off completely.
“Oh my god —” Amanda wheezes, voice caught between a laugh and genuine concern as she grips Angela’s wrists. “You’re actually insane —get off! ”
“Hey! HEY!! Stop resisting! I need – I need to… ugh! ” Angela yells dramatically, her weight throwing them both off-balance now.
Amanda stumbles sideways, her sneakers skidding against the pavement. For one horrifying moment, she thinks they’re about to go down, both of them, right there in front of the diner, a tangled heap of limbs and regret.
“Angela— Angela! ” Amanda yelps, twisting just enough to stop their trajectory before they crash into a parked car. A distant car horn blares somewhere down the street, a dog barks, and Amanda swears she can feel the judgment of a passing pedestrian.
Still, Angela doesn’t let up. She takes another shot at Amanda’s face, leaning in like she’s really about to sink her teeth into her cheek.
Amanda dodges at the last second, tilting her head back with a startled laugh. “Oh my god! ” she gasps, still wrestling Angela’s arms away. “ What is wrong with you?! ”
Angela just smirks, breath warm against her skin. “I refuse to let you win.”
Amanda finally manages to wrench Angela’s arms apart, stumbling back with a dramatic gasp for air. “Okay, okay! ” she huffs, chest rising and falling as she tries to regain some semblance of control. “Truce! Truce! Freaking freak!”
Angela pauses, skeptical, eyes still sharp and narrowed. “You swear? ”
Amanda nods, solemn, breathless. “Yes! Yes. Jesus, I swear on my honor as a knight of the realm.”
Angela exhales, like she’s considering it, then—reluctantly—loosens her grip, finally stepping back. Amanda releases her too—only to immediately jump out of the way when Angela lunges again.
“HEY! No! No.. no! Heyyy! No take-backs! NO take-backs. ” Amanda yells, dodging to the side, a full-body maneuver to escape.
Angela smirks, triumphant. “I’m gonna get ya.”
Amanda groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Jesus. You’re feral. ”
Angela dusts off her hoodie like she wasn’t just trying to eat her best friend’s face. “You bring it out in me. ”
Amanda just shakes her head, still grinning, still utterly bewildered . She rolls her shoulders, stretching like she’s shaking off the battle. “C’mon, we should probably get going before you try that again .”
Angela shrugs, nonchalant. “Watch out, ‘Manda.”
Amanda side-eyes her. “I should have left you at the diner.” Amanda hums, tilting her head like she’s considering it. “I dunno … I do owe you payback for the pickle juice incident—”
Angela immediately points at her, sharp. “ No. ”
Amanda grins, victorious. “That’s what I thought . Now let's get your butt in that car.” Angela barely gets two steps toward the car before Amanda sticks a firm hand against the side of her face, shoving her off course with absolutely no hesitation.
Angela stumbles, her arms flailing in a frantic attempt to catch her balance as her feet slide across the uneven ground. "Hey—!" she protests, swatting at Amanda’s arm with a playful, exaggerated swipe. The motion is half-laugh, half-annoyance—like she can’t believe Amanda just did that.
“I am NOT letting you eat my face, Angela! No! Noo chances, Na-uh. ” Amanda exclaims, her voice dripping with mock seriousness as she steps back, throwing on a ridiculously posh accent, as though she were some highborn noble warding off an unruly peasant uprising. She punctuates the dramatic proclamation with another light, yet deliberate push, her hand pressing against Angela’s shoulder to keep her at arm’s length.
Angela squawks indignantly, catching herself before she veers too far to the side. “Oh my god, I wasn’t actually gonna eat you —”
Amanda gasps, scandalized. “You lunged at me with teeth , madam! Teeth! ”
Angela groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I have done worse to you! Dramatic!”
Amanda huffs, still keeping a defensive hand raised as she yanks open the driver’s side door. “I have to be! Survival depends on it when I’m traveling with a feral creature disguised as my best friend.”
Angela rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she circles around to the passenger side. “You act like I don’t have self-control. ”
Amanda snorts, sliding into her seat. “Honey, you literally just tried to climb me in broad daylight.”
Angela waves a hand dismissively as she drops into the passenger seat, like that’s just a footnote in their morning. There’s a brief pause as Amanda settles, adjusting in her seat, checking the mirrors. Just as she reaches for the ignition—
Poke.
Amanda freezes.
Slowly, she turns her head, only to find Angela sitting there, looking utterly innocent —except for the fact that her finger is still resting against Amanda’s cheek. Amanda stares at her, completely unimpressed.
“Angela.”
Angela grins, triumphant, eyes gleaming with mischief. And then, just like that, Angela leans in a fraction, her voice dropping low, hushed with something dangerously close to a promise. "I’ll get you," she says, her voice slow and deliberate, like she’s savoring every word. "I’ll really get you one day. And you’ll be in such shock, such awe, that I got you that good. "
Amanda exhales, shaking her head. “Jesus.”
Angela’s grin only widens as she settles back, satisfied.
Amanda finally starts the car, the low rumble of the engine filling the space between them. Outside, the city is waking up—early risers shuffling down sidewalks, the warm glow of shop windows flickering to life, the sky still painted in soft, golden hues.
Angela taps her fingers against the dashboard, humming lightly. “What’s the first stop, Captain?”
Amanda sighs, gripping the wheel. “Wherever gets me far away from you and your menace energy .”
“Wow… I can’t believe it, You know what, crazy! CRAZY!”
Amanda hums, putting the car into drive. “No, this is self-preservation. ”
Angela smirks. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll never be safe.”