"You're telling me that you got Captain America-the War Hero, Steve Rogers-to become best friends with a thirteen-year-old kid? What, is this supposed to slowly introduce him to how irritating Generation Z is? Project Training Wheels or something?"
...
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☆
"Lizzie. Your Type A Personality is taking up my space."
Lizzie rolled her eyes, unwilling to let her incoming barrage of friends distract her current problem. Taking up an entire portion of the three-set tables in the cafeteria was her planner, every variation of highlighter, two different pens, her phone, and two different schedules printed out. Of the three people coming to her table, Taylor was the first to make a comment on the sight. C.T. knew it was smart to remain silent and took her spot quiet next to her girlfriend, pressing a subtle kiss to her shoulder on the way down. Much like Taylor, her partner-in-crime Eli didn't hesitate to join in.
"Love anxiety for lunch," Eli snorted as he sat down next to Taylor, but his comment struck a prize when Lizzie's lip curled up into a smirk, peering over her eyelashes quickly to shoot him a look. He grinned in return, raising his eyebrows as he leaned over Taylor's lunch tray to grab one of the schedules. "Is this your Fall Ball schedule?"
Lizzie grumbled unintelligibly, flicking through another page in her planner and grabbing the other schedule with her free hand. "And this is the Decathlon Team schedule, and this—" she held up the planner, which was full of highlights and different dates scattered in blue and black pen "—is what my next few months are going to look like."
"Looks like you have some room to join Cheer," Taylor said sarcastically as she opened her Gatorade. "Don't forget about Liz's party tomorrow."
She paused, her eyes slowly raising from the page to Taylor. "You're lying to me."
"I wish. I'm not."
"I have practice right after school, and then somehow have to morph into two people to make it in time for the last few minutes of Decathlon practice. I have the national tournament next Tuesday at eleven and our double-header starts at one. I won't even get home until six tomorrow, I don't have a gift for her, and I'll have to shower and—"
