in every universe (one shot-s) | JENLISA

the starry vault of heaven, well worth flirting with

Two coffees in hand, Lisa arrives at the patio table she claims every Thursday afternoon sweaty and anxious. Nearly slamming the drinks down, she asks, "did you read my article?"

"No," Jennie says, not looking up from her copy of The NCU Review. "I picked up a copy of our student newspaper and am sitting here reading it and have not even glanced at your front page article."

Lisa drops into the open seat across from her best friend. "Jennie."

Jennie cracks a smile, finally looking up to meet her gaze. "You know it's wonderful."

"You think so?" Lisa has been anxiously checking the level of every student newspaper box on campus all day. She even spread a few copies out in a delicate fan on some of the tables during her shift at Noonan's.

"Darling," Jennie murmurs, reaching out to take Lisa's hands in her own. "What's all this, hm? They don't let just anyone be the editor-in-chief." She shakes Lisa's hands as she says it, coaxing a smile from her bitten lips.

"That's just it, though," Lisa says, squeezing at Jennie's fingers. "I don't want people to think that my article made the front page just because I'm the editor, or anything."

"No one could think that," Jennie soothes. "You've worked so hard to get here. You got—" She lets go of Lisa to thumb through the sparse pages of the paper until she lands on Lisa's article. "You got Dean Banks to go on record about making campus work-study the state minimum wage. He's been dodging those questions at student forums for the whole time we've been students. This is legitimate investigative journalism, Lisa. I'm so proud of you." Her eyes flick over Lisa's face; her mouth twitches. "I've been shoving copies at people all day."

Lisa bursts into relieved, joyous laughter. "You haven't," she says. "Jennie."

Jennie sits back in her chair, chuckling as she rearranges the paper with one hand and goes after her coffee with the other. "You know grad students. We wouldn't notice if a black hole opened up over Main Campus, but if you point us in the right direction," she says, shaking the Review, "we care quite deeply."

"I didn't think your fancy, smart friends cared about my little undergrad paper," Lisa teases.

"You're my fancy, smart friend," Jennie responds, burying her nose back into the paper.

Lisa slumps over into the crook of her elbow in an attempt to hide the furious blush that takes over her face. "Jennie," she groans again.

"Didn't you say you'd been putting off an essay until this got published?"

"You're a terrible best friend," Lisa lies, knowing that the entire reason they'd instituted these Thursday afternoon coffee dates was to bully each other into doing work on the day they both wanted nothing more than to nap.

"Complimenting you and then making sure you get your work done?"

Lisa pouts as she unloads her laptop. "Yes. You never let me compliment you."

"Mm. I'll live with it, I think." Jennie snorts and there's the sound of newspaper crinkling.

Lisa closes her laptop screen mere seconds after opening it in order to lean over the table. "What are you even reading?" Jennie covers the section with her hand lightning quick, but Lisa has been pouring over the layout of that edition for hours all week. Laughing, she asks, "the horoscope? Really?"

Jennie rolls up the newspaper into a tube and starts smacking her with it. "Do your work, dumbass."

"Ow, would you—Jennie!"