|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2014 5:59 am
Not a LieHe licked the frosting off his thumb and if he'd been standing the accumulating pressure of nerves and the expression on her face might have made his knees buckle so good thing, then, that he was sitting. He twisted the fork in his fingers, and he tried to think of something clever to say, and where this once would have been easy for him he found it now extraordinarily difficult. Trying to remember how these conversations were supposed to go involved peeling back layers and layers of memory. There was nothing there. He made a restless movement and the hat fell from his head, and he caught it but didn't replace it, setting it aside. "Well if you do make a mess," he pointed out after a pause, and he touched the fingertips of his free hand suddenly to her knee, and it was obvious, painfully obvious, that he'd very nearly withdrawn them as abruptly as he always did but left them there despite the urge, "you promised to stay."
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2014 6:22 am
Not a Lie"This is really ******** good," America declared as she finished, smiling as she cleaned the fork of the remaining frosting. At the mention of her promise, her smile became shifty and secretive. Reaching into her pocket she said slyly, "Yeah, I even brought the goods." Slipping out a plastic baggie, she leaned forward and dangled it enticingly between them like it held some sort of illicit substance. The confetti and tiny paper birds within reflected the room's light, casting flickering little prisms about. The hand was accepted without comment, because it was good, and the cake was good, and everything was good. And after that spar, it was an undeniable relief that he hadn't fallen into the sulks for days after, because there were only days left with him and waiting on his temper was the last thing she'd wanted.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 27, 2014 11:10 pm
Not a Lie (aftermath)It isn't until he's plucking a tiny paper crane (folded, it appears, from a gum wrapper) out of her tangled hair, much later, that he remembers that the only reason he allowed this to happen is that he doesn't think he'll have many more chances to let it, with her or anyone. His grin, for the first time since she leaned into him reassuring and encouraging (no cringing, no disgust, his stomach flipping with the relief of touching someone who does not recoil), falters. He hides it against her shoulder as though it were a real one and later, in the desert, when he replays the scene over and over and over (not the moments before, but this moment, this one, after it's all over), he can't remember what joke it is that he cracked that made her laugh for him. lizbot b***h u think i was jokin
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 27, 2014 11:19 pm
RequestsA small slip of paper is slid under Taym's door, along with an envelope of cash. Requests for the library. rejam it says others in the title i do what i want
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 27, 2014 11:34 pm
Bombshells
She had not been kidding about her preference for post coital cake. Restless from simply cuddling and denied her phone, America has rolled over onto her stomach, legs kicking slowly in the air, popping a strawberry into her mouth as she reads another Cosmo, a smudge of chocolate across her cheek. She is well on her way to making the promised mess of his bed, his room, and perhaps him as well. "Oh," she said, playfully reading off the page with a salacious flip in her voice: "Is your man as open as a 24 hour diner, or is he so closed-off you'd need a SWAT team to break through? Find out with this romantic quiz."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
