“it’s just…”
Eric pauses for a second, making awkwardly quick little wafting motions with his left hand (the one with the sixes) as if attempting to stir up the memory.
“…she does that thing that I do when I’m meeting someone for the first time. That sort of falsely casual ‘I don’t really care how you answer this question(either way is fine with me. Really), but (for the sake of getting to know each other)—how do you feel about animal torture and casual drug use?’ inquisition thing. It was fan-God Damn-tastic. She tried to play it cool, but there was this intensity with which…”
Dave pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He can see just fine, but it’s a powerful gesture nonetheless, and his mother is an acting coach, so he inherited a sort of flare for the dramatic.
“Slow down, man. A: you’re talking too fast, and B: you sound like you’ve rehearsed this”
Dave chews the inside of his mouth a little bit. A nasty habit, but it’s just for show. He counts the beats in his head until he resumes speaking. A born performer.
“You’re doing that thing where you’re bouncing a first draft off of me, and not actually talking, huh?”
Eric waves off his best friend’s accusation while simultaneously acknowledging defeat, and (not quickly enough) making a mental note to stop talking with his hands.
“I’m just excited. Really God damn excited. I go through every single day hoping against hope to meet just one person who gives a shit about anything (really: any-fucking¬¬-thing); and here’s this girl (this drop-dead-gorgeous girl with a tattoo of fucking Gizmo on her shoulder) who’s vegan, straight edge, likes Invisible Monsters more than Fight Club, and has better taste in music than I do. It’s just…”
“Wait. Hold the fucking phone, sir. ‘Gizmo’, Gizmo? Like, from Gremlins?”
Eric just nods. Smiles.
Dave’s eyes go as wide as is possible outside of a shitty Japanese cartoon.
“I know, Dave. I know. It’s ridiculous. She showed it to me and I almost started crying”
“Understandably so. Jesus…”
Eric moans a little bit and rubs his temples a little too forcefully with the index and middle fingers of both hands.
“The bitch of it all is: I’m so used to just…you know, hating everyone that she throws me waaay the fuck off guard. It’s awful (I mean, it’s great—really fucking great—it’s just…)…”
“…yeah? You just don’t know how to act, or what?”
“Yeah, I guess. I guess that’s it. I’m just so stoked that she’s in my life, I don’t want to do anything to make her go away”
Dave quirks a brow to indicate interest, but it’s obscured by the frames of his glasses so he just looks sort of twitchy.
“So…you’re, like…dating?”
Eric forgets his resolution about the hands and flails them for all he’s worth.
“No. No, no, no. I know better than to even hope for anything like that. She’s so far out of my league it honestly hasn’t even crossed my mind”
Dave puts his hands on his hips. A gesture so flamboyant it’d take the sun to obscure it.
“Never? Not even once? You are a fucking liiiiarrr, son”.
Eric’s eyes go straight to the floor. His hands, to his pockets.
“Well, of course the thought had occurred to me. But I’m not an idiot, and I have no delusions about my lot in life. I’m the Jimmy Olsen to her Supergirl. The Johnny Marr to her Morrissey”.
Dave moves close to Eric and his tone turns uncharacteristically serious .
“Don’t put yourself down, man. You’re an alright guy, yourself. You’re a published journalist, you’re paying your dues in the comics field, you’ve got your own place… you’re not addicted to anything…It’s not like you’re some hopeless leper, or something”.
Eric just stands still for a while, until Dave apprehensively pats him on the shoulder.
“Thanks. A lot. For real”
He chooses his words after much deliberation.
“I don’t feel possessive about her at all (I mean, we just started hanging out. Even creepers take a longer time than three or four days to get that attached…and I’d like to think I’m not a creeper). I just…I just love knowing that she exists, you know? That someone with her level of compassion and that particular outlook on things shares air with me”.
Eric starts to get noticeably excited, now: his cheeks are flush, a little curl of hair has come uncoiled and dangles haphazardly in front of his eyes, the hands are moving (lightning-quick) again.
“I’m honestly just happy to know she’s around”
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ericmesquivel's journal
Eric is scheduled to drop some science at 6pm Pacific Time. He will, as always, be charming as all get out. Also contributing to the show: 
creative
accomplished
hypnotized