Knockoff, Isaiah knew. Versace Jeans line for their patent leather, and the emulator left seams showing where Versace most often didn’t. He wondered if she thought nothing about the plastic wrapping around the handles when she first received her product. He wondered if she bought it off eBay, or one of those third party sellers that claim bargain basement discounts from overstock buys.
Like Versace cared about liquidating overstock.
Isaiah’s gaze drifted from handbag to phone when the aforementioned picture finally came out, and while Isaiah wanted to admire the skill and patience needed for such embroidery technique, he found himself so far beyond bored with the conversation that he couldn’t appreciate a fellow artist. He smiled, offered a polite ‘it’s nice’, and elected to redirect the conversation away from the girl’s budding business ventures and buddies. “Did you move here alone, then? Any pets - dogs, cats, husbands?” His chin came to rest on his open palm as he studied the brunette for her answer.
“Oh. Oh, I see where this is going.” She flashed a smile that spoke more of offense than politeness. Her handbag was snapped up in an instant as the girl held it to her chest, as if it might somehow defend her against a lecherous onslaught. “I’m married, thanks. I thought we were just having a conversation. My mistake.” A curt nod, and the woman couldn’t escape fast enough. Red heeled shoes (matched to her dress) soon found the wooden floor and she clopped away to another lonely-looking patron for a fresh ear to chew.
Isaiah sighed, even as his eyes followed her ample posterior to her new seating. Luck played poorly for him lately. Or did his game fall so far by the wayside that he no longer held his charm anymore? Did he look more the ‘friend zone’ type now? His sudden dearth in successful pickups perplexed him to no end.
This wasn’t her usual bar, but it was a favorite of one of her many friends. Sarah liked the atmosphere and she knew the bartender, so the drinks the small group got weren’t watered down and the wait time was negligible. Sid had come because it was Sarah’s birthday, but she was one of many here tonight to celebrate. It was, all in all, kinda boring… but it was fun watching the gaggle of girls get tipsy and hit on the men hanging around. They’d barely arrived and already lost a few of the pack to hotties on the dance floor. The birthday girl had gone inside and made a beeline to the bar while Sid had smoked a bowl around the corner of the building, so when she finally made it inside, it took a little doing to pick out the people she had come with.
Ah, there… Sarah’s strawberry blonde curls shown in the lights and Sid ran her fingers through her own rainbow locks as she turned to head that way, her eyes wandering over the other patrons. Her course was interrupted, though, chunky black boots faltering, as she caught sight of slim, dark figure. Gothic fashion wasn’t common around here, so that was enough to make him stand out, but it was the line of his shoulders that caught her, the curve of his spine… After six plus years, there was no way Sidney wouldn’t know Isaiah from the back, whatever he was wearing and wherever he was, fitting in or not.
He was talking to some pretty little thing… she wondered if it was a friend, or his cousin in to visit for the weekend. Or his current ******** buddy, enjoying a little wine and dine before heading home to get hot and heavy. Was that a flash of jealousy? No. Impossible. She’d the one that had left him, right? What right did she have to be jealous?
Her steps slowed as she watched them talking, a phone coming out to show off some photo, but then a curiosity. The woman’s smile changed, went hard. She offered some reply to something he had said and clutched her knock off bag to her chest as she back pedaled. Sid’s eyebrows rose as she watched what was fast becoming obviously a rejection and she ignored the pleased little thrill it gave her. Poor Ice… not getting a piece of that booty tonight, huh?
Impulse changed the path of her feet abruptly and she wandered closer, adjusting the strap to her knit bag as it hung across her small chest. It was hard to push the little curl off her lips as she slipped up behind him, though she managed to resist the urge to run her fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair as she had so many times before.
“Didn’t you tell her about that thing you can do with your tongue?” Sid said as she leaned around his shoulder, her feet following the motion to bring her around the table and into his view. Her fingers reached to skim along the edge of the scuffed surface as she went, the black sequins on her tank top catching the light in muted glints.
Isaiah was raised from his mental meanderings by the sound of a much-too-familiar voice, and he recognized it immediately for who it belonged to: Sidney James. And surely, he spotted her specter now rounding the table to pause and mock him in those easy tones as she did so many times before, when he felt her living breathing form in his hands while she sat on his lap. While they shared hits to escape the drudgery of their reality. Sidney felt much like chasing the dragon, like holding a straw between teeth and breathing all the acrid, gut-rotting smoke that wafted from superheated tinfoil. He thought of the designs he left, and the number of times he showed his foils to her for potential tattoos or scarification runs while laid out with his favorite mistress.
He supposed that relationship never really ended.
But Isaiah lacked the buffer of confidence, now, to fend off his ex. Instead, he flashed her a wan smile that spoke of his lethargy in catching up, in keeping up, in projecting that image that proved so terribly high in demand (be confident or be dead, he was once reminded). “Sid.” It was about all the greeting he could manage. Their multiple encounters proved ugly, harried, and tattered. Most involved a pastime that he himself shirked, but Sidney lingered on in its incessant demand. She looked the part, now. He wondered how long until that specter of her no longer existed.
He wondered, then, if this was how Sidney felt when he landed himself in the hospital those years ago. Isaiah remembered the strain in her voice when she sang the last of that voicemail. Would he be the one to stand by a coffin, a morgue table? Would he know smooth, cool marble pressed to his cheek when he visited a mausoleum for the first and last time?
Possible, and not improbable.
“I didn’t,” he answered at last, as he came back to reality. “I thought I’d try something different. Didn’t work for me.” And why was she here? This wasn’t her scene. She preferred the bars belonging to clubs if memory served, not the hipster nautical themed bar that he chose on a whim. “Maybe you should show me how it’s done sometime.” He felt tired, suddenly, and much too sober.
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Sometimes it’s better to stick with what you know.” She said as she shrugged, glancing away from him towards the woman he’d been hitting on. She look… too clean, in that red dress. Too perfect, every curl laid with precision and sprayed till a hurricane couldn’t disturb it. Her makeup was immaculate, her lips unmarred by piercings and her eyes unsmudged. Sid, who’s friends joked would ******** anything with a pulse, found her… plastic. She wasn’t entirely sure what Ice had seen in her to start with. Their partners had always been far more vibrant and approachable.
Sid glanced back as he spoke, her smile widening to something a bit warmer and a bit more coy.
“You already know how I’d do it, Ice. You’ve seen that enough times.” Seen me seduce a cute boy with soft auburn curls and then watched me ride him in our bed, for example. Or the blonde barbie with the fetish for bondage. Or the black haired man who could have been your twin and was a trip and a half when you sandwiched me between you. Boney shoulders shrugged as she reached the stool on the other side of the table and she leaned her hip into it, one hand falling to brace palm flat on the top of it. “Admittedly, this isn’t my usual… but it’s my friend’s birthday and this was her dive of choice. I bring the fun with me, you know, so it really doesn’t matter where I go as long as they serve top shelf.”
The DJ’s head tilted as she studied him, with the clean lines of his face and his artfully applied make up. The black shirt that clung to his lean form and tempted hands to test the threadcount. The only part of this whole disaster that had never really lost its appeal… the only part that had always worked between them. If only you could separate out the parts of a person you liked to keep, and let the rest go…
“This isn’t your normal either, unless that’s changed.”
He’d seen Sidney in action many a time, and often they set up the bar trap games to test those that seemed most interesting. Sidney would flirt, Isaiah would watch, and the willing participant would either follow them home or abstain for the more familiar grounds of one-on-one action. They played a handful of times in that vein, before two-way mirrors sounded like a good idea. And how many times had she taken the reverse role?
Sidney didn’t sit - he knew it as disinterest, as an unwillingness to entertain conversation with him longer than she had to. Longer than she felt she could tolerate. Sober spelled a bore. “It’s good to hear you have friends.” The kinds of people that frequented a place like this seldom dipped into drug abuse, which meant Sidney wouldn’t spend the night getting high with anyone unless they felt particularly adventurous. A hard sell, though in this social climate. Healthiness was in vogue now, and drug use identified itself as a keen opposition to it. Here, Sidney James lacked a lot of her appeal. Here, her bones jutted and her cheeks looked sharp and her eyes too sunken in for the fresh crop of a** here.
And he, reeking of cigarettes and alcoholism, stood no better chance.
“It’s not really my normal.” Isaiah reached for his glass, only to find it empty. He retired it to its captain’s wheel coaster. “I guess I’m a little lost.” He tried to laugh, but it sounded off key. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here, really. I heard the drinks were good. But the people here are more interested in friends, it looks like.” I don’t like how I’ve changed. I wanted to ******** her so I could tell her that her purse was fake and that her business would fail in two years. When did that even matter before?
Maybe it was time to acknowledge that he failed and move on. Already he faced two losses here, and adding more only spelled a night of alcohol poisoning. He withdrew his wallet, plucked a couple crisp bills to cover tip and drink amount, then tossed them atop the table and placed his drink atop the pair.
But before he left, he thought he’d try a last angle of it. “You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
He didn’t immediately brush her off. In fact, he was down right civil and after their last meetings, it was heartening. No acidic remarks, no cold shoulders. It gave her courage, enough to hook a heel into the run of the stool and pushed up on, hopping onto the seat.
“I always have friends. It’s one of the things I’m good at, making them.” She said as she swung her purse off with an easy motion and let it fall on the table top. The decision to stay and chat him up for a bit had come kind of out of the blue, but what the hell. Sarah was already on her third shot with the group over by the bar and showing no signs of missing her, it looked like. No one would even notice if she took a little time for herself. One thin leg crossed over the other, her foot bouncing.
He looked moody, when she brought her gaze back. Already, he was pulling money out of his wallet and she jerked forward, throwing an arm up into the air to call one of the waitresses that wandered through the crowd carrying liquor sticky trays.
“Why don’t you let me buy you one of those good drinks, huh? Just because you’re lost doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun while wandering around, right?” She shrugged as she caught the eye of a leggy brunette and she let her arm drop again, swinging her eyes to her Ex. “This girl’s night is kinda tame compared to what I’m used to, but it’s still fun. I met Sarah a couple weeks ago at an outdoor concert. She knows people and free tickets fall into her ample cleavage all the time, so a tame night out every so often isn’t much of a hardship for the benefit. And she’s sweet, so.”
Her hand dropped to the pitted table top and she let her fingers drum lightly against it’s surface. As relaxed as she was, it was hard to sit still.
Sidney consistently proved the better of the pair at solidifying friendships. Isaiah seemed more an introvert than her, and while he didn’t consider it a fault, he constantly envied Sidney for her ability to make friends at such a clip. Always the life of a party, Sidney James knew how to bring people home and brighten their days. To an extent, Isaiah’s own skill in picking up others was based after her ease in approach. Still, he hadn’t quite learned how to allow for friendships to form.
“You could buy me a drink,” he conceded. “You know what I like.” His fingers found a nearby pencil, and on the back of a bar menu he wrote a series of calculations. Numbers formed a slanted tower that ended in a final count, three digits long, and none too high. Isaiah’s total calories for consumption ran low, but he budgeted enough to avoid specifying what she might order. in the past, he knew she excelled at surprising him with interesting and flavorful drink choices.
He started to wonder when he stopped drinking for taste.
“You’re right, though.” Isaiah gestured about the bar with the butt of the pencil, pointing from the nets hung from the roof to the starfish decorum on each of the wheel-based tables. “There’s no one dancing on the bars, and no clothes are coming off. Much too docile for you.” Beneath the numbers, he started a sketch in the remaining blank space spared by the menu. Simple shapes started to find connection with one another, gaining volume as he drew. “Do you remember that time when you refused to leave the bar until you got to grope the bartender’s a**? That stocky, chubby man with more beard than hair? I can’t for the life of me remember his name, but was he ever pissed for it…” He wasn’t certain if the memory cheered him or left him further adrift, but he decided it didn’t matter.
“In any case, I hope the concerts make up for the excitement. Any backstage passes in there? You know how floozy band members start to get when they’ve been downing vodka the entire time as a substitute for water.” And sometimes, Isaiah felt like he was doing much the same.
One of the waitresses came then, a bright-eyed girl with vivid green eyes and blonde streaks in stringy hair. The ponytail she wore flopped back and forth profusely with her every nod, her every step. She had pale lips with a cupid’s bow and smiled as often as she could. “What can I do for you?” She asked, pen at the ready.
Studded lips slid into a sly smile and her eyelashes dropped low over her eyes.
“Oh, I know what you like, no worries.” She teased, shifting forward to lean a boney elbow on the table. The long necklace she wore, one of many, rattled across the surface. Magenta eyes dropped to watch his motions and they drew a confused and curious expression across her face. She had no idea what he could be writing about and it was… kinda weird. Ice and his neurosis, she guessed. There was no explanation sometimes. No explanation for a lot of things he did… After last time, she really should be angry at him. He’d left her hanging, forcing her to pawn off the brooch for substantially less than it was worth, which had translated to a lot less that she could buy.
But… seeing him again had roused old feelings and even if she might still be annoyed at what had happened, a greater part of her wanted this. Easy sort of talking while sharing drinks. Looking at the face she hadn’t seen in six months. Hearing the voice that had been her comfort when there had been none for almost longer than she could remember. She didn’t want to be mad at him, so she took the easy way out, conveniently ignoring their issues in favor of whisky and lemons.
The waitress that arrived got a broad, beaming smile as Sidney turned to her, digging into her knit bag for the pocket she kept her cash in. She pulled a few bills to offer to the bouncy, smiling woman.
“Two Whiskey Sours, please, Beautiful.” She said, her voice bright. After the perky assent and swing of hips as the waitress departed, Sid turned her still bright smile back to her table companion and she chuckled.
“I told you that bartender had the tightest a** under those jeans, contrary to the rest of him. And I was right too.” She waved a finger at him. “I’ve gone to a few concerts this summer, but Sarah is one of those girls who wants all eyes in the room on her at all times. If she had passes, she probably kept them to herself, the stingy b***h. I did try sweet talking a couple of the security guys, but only one of them took me up on the blow job offer and we got caught halfway through so that was a bust. Not like in New York, where half of them knew me on sight...”
The reminder was unintentional and with it came a bit of ache to her chest. She skipped quickly past it, searching for lighter conversation.
“But whatever. You’ve been here long enough to get set up… You’re still playing the field, I assume, if you’re out at a crappy bar trying to pick up a playmate?”
Whether or not he had anyone at home shouldn’t have been interesting to her, but it was. She couldn’t justify it, save as curiosity. They’d been together so long, she wanted to know who her follow up act was, that’s all. If he’d go for someone like her, or someone her complete opposite.
Isaiah knew that predatory look immediately, and it entertained him to think that Sidney still considered him in that sense. Isaiah caught himself thinking that the whole of him was a turnoff to her now, despite their past. Curiously, it wasn’t.
“Good choice,” he commented on the side, while the drawing solidified into a slice of life sketch of a girl whose elbows sat propped on a counter, both palms cradling her chin, and a gaze that lit far in the distance, as if she considered which type of ice cream to eat that summer day. He liked to think it looked innocent, but past experience with this type of rendering meant that outside viewers often found such an expression saturnine. Afterward he added dye-fried fluffy hair, of considerable volume, and varying values to illustrate a rainbow of color. She looked too thin.
“I’m sure he did. Most men have surprisingly tight asses when it comes to a woman trying to slip a finger up there. Terrible shame, too.” He continued his sketch while he listened to her complaints. If nothing else, Sidney held a particular view of the world that featured every choice as a personal affront. It endeared him for a time, and he enjoyed challenging it. Now he expected that he lost that privilege. “It sounds like you should’ve just milked his prostate and finished him off in ninety seconds. I know you can do at least that.” Besides, most concerts weren’t worth the sore and popping jaw after putting out one’s best efforts.
When the waitress returned with drinks, each sat neatly upon a napkin, he took a long swig of his. Ever a preference for whiskey, it very nearly didn’t matter for the rest of the mixer, but he held a particular fondness for citrus. Sid picked well. “A few months isn’t long enough to strike up a relationship worth staying loyal to. Most people… I don’t think they agree to be significant others until at least that long. Even if I was dating I don’t think I’d have found someone by then. And if I did… I’m not so certain I could do the closed relationship that most people expect. I have met a considerable amount of couples, though.” Couples and the sorely rejected peppered his encounters, and it felt somewhat imbalanced.
“What about you, Sid? Are you still staying free?” Another sip, and the smooth spice of it settled easily with the lemon garnish.
Sid snorted softly as her fingers beat a familiar rhythm on the tabletop. “I tried, but he kept pulling my hair to slow me down so it lasted longer…”
He was sketching something out, which kept his eyes down rather than up where she could see them. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, beyond a bit of prickly curiosity. What was so interesting? The arrival of the waitress interrupted that thought, pulling her back to the more welcome thoughts of booze and the fun one could have with it. She slid the glass closer and stuck a finger in to roll the ice around idly, making sure the whiskey was properly chilled before she drank it. She popped that finger into her mouth to suck the alcohol from her skin before snagging the cherry from on top to roll across her tongue and pinch the stem in her teeth.
“Mmm…” She hummed around it, picking at the stem with her nails before she pulled it free. “It didn’t take us more than a month or two, remember? And you have to admit, we aren’t exactly ‘most people’, no matter how hot you look in that pinstripe coat.”
Sid clicked her tongue ring against her teeth and chewed the chair to pulp, an elbow on the table as she propped her chin on her fist. She swung her foot again, trying to figure out his drawing upside down from across the table. She waved her fingers finally, dismissing the idea of a relationship.
“I’m not interested in getting stuck with anyone right now. DC is new territory and who knows where things are going to go with my music. I’m enjoying playing the field with no strings… I’ve met quite a few fun people.” People she would have loved to share with him, once upon a time. Like Archer… The thought of that warmed her in delicious ways. Reaching, she picked up her drink and took a healthy gulp of it, ice clinking as it shifted.
“Met a few not fun people too, but that’s not all that different from New York either.” She admitted when she lowered her glass, swirling the liquid about. “Gangs and violence are ******** everywhere. You should be careful, if you’re still in the habit of walking home alone from the bar…”
”I’m telling you, you should’ve pressed a knuckle to his taint.” They batted about that vein of conversation nonchalantly enough to earn scanty glances from the surrounding patrons. Undoubtedly a few listened in now, hoping for further detail.
Finally Isaiah retired his pencil when he reached an appreciable resolution of the subject. It was, then, fairly easy to recognize Sid’s distinct facial structure and emaciated appearance with the sketch. While honest to her appearance, it simultaneously spokeo f a tenderness that he nursed while the pair were together. Afterward he removed the napkin from beneath his drink and placed it atop the sketch to cover its presence. “It was a bit different, back then. I was different, as you well know.” He left his comment at a borderline reproachful note. Arguing over it now sounded ineffectual and needless. “Now, I think it’s probably better to wait longer. If I wanted a relationship at all. I haven’t decided.” But Isaiah already possessed the belief that some individuals weren’t meant for relationships, and that others may simply be toxic within one. And if he could met all of his needs with friends and ********, then what would be the point in pursuing one?
He told himself all of these points, and yet he felt wanting for a better answer, more concrete reasoning.
“It’s a shame.” Isaiah paused to sample more of his whiskey, and swirled the glass afterward when it remained poised just before his lips. “We should’ve made a second go of it.” Afterward he downed a considerable amount.
“Destiny City seems more receptive to casual hookups. It might just be a difference in socioeconomic status, though.” He doubted it - likely the city took on a more ‘live free or die hard’ attitude due to the high incidence rate of youma and officer attacks. It benefitted him nonetheless. “But you’re right about the dangers. Certainly it’s more exciting than New York in that regard. But I have to say, I think I’d prefer getting mauled to death by one of these purported monsters then shivved in the back for my plastic.” He frowned at the thought of it.
“I try to be careful in my own way. After all, if I take someone home with me, then it’s not walking back alone.”
The advice to improve her blow job ability was glossed over with a half smile, more liquor sliding down her throat. It was amusing to joke about, but not ultimately important. She was confident in her abilities in that area of her sex life, but it was funny to talk about it here in the open with him, drawing looks from nearby tables. The feel of eyes on her sent a little thrill down her spine, making her squirm in her seat.
It was sort of nice to know her views and Ice’s aligned in the relationship department. Neither of them seemed cut out for them, given the disaster they’d made of theirs. Then he made that off hand comment, and for a moment, Sid was struck by it.
A second go of it? Try it again? And here I thought he hated me, after I left him like that. She swirled the whiskey around her glass as her smile faded a little bit, her thoughts on the strange feel of that possibility.
It was true… she missed what they’d had. She had been so incredibly attached to Ice, back in the beginning. He’d given her everything she had been missing since her parents’ deaths… stability, safety, acceptance, encouragement, attention, love… But it all circled back around to the fact that ever since Ice got sober, he’d changed. She could see it still, the fidgety motions of sketching, rather than looking at her through the conversation. In the tension across his shoulders. If he was still like that, like he’d been right before she left, then what was the point of going back to it? She wanted the old Ice, her Ice…
“Everything seems a little easier here, or a little harder… like everyone is living as hard as they can, as much and as fast as possible…” She murmured as she sipped her drink, taking the ice down to the bottom of the glass. The clink of it called her attention to the sorry state and she lifted her glass up, using it to wave down their waitress again for another round without bothering to ask if he wanted one. If he didn’t, well, she’d just drink his too and be plastered before the night even rightly started. She was already feeling the buzz of it, and it felt good.
“Speaking of hook ups…” Sid murmured as she lowered her glass to the table top, draping her elbows across it as a little smile played over her lips. “I dunno about a second go of it, but we were always really hot in bed. If you ever wanted to just hook up, I’d be down for that. Definitely. ******** buddies are best buddies.”
She couldn’t help a giggle at that, feeling nice and light and airy.
”I don’t think they’re living as hard as they can. But I do think that mortal threats really helped to put life into perspective for them. I imagine that, after nearly getting killed taking a shortcut down some side alley, you start to reevaluate your life choices.” Isaiah wasted little time polishing off the free drink, though the alcohol added a slight tilt to his vision. Each blink produced a small whorl before the scene before him righted itself. Unless he wanted to stumble home, he surmised that he should stop there.
When did you start living hard, Sid? Really, truly hard. It looks like you’ve been at it for some time, now. Did it start after we split? Sometimes you just grind yourself down to feel like you’re moving. Sometimes that’s the only way to feel like you’re finally going forward again. Is that your reason? Or is it mine?
Isaiah’s thoughts stirred at her proposal, and he smiled with the same lazy confidence that he often held when drunk. “Always so charming.” He propped his elbows on the counter, much as Sid did, and laced his fingers into a lattice that obscured his mouth. He watched her then, loosing a low hum as if he weighed the offer critically. In truth, he was - although part of him insisted he turn her down by principle alone. If they started down that path, how many more steps remained until he revisited the very life choices that led him to defibrillation? Perhaps five, or two, or simply one. Perhaps all he needed to do was say ‘yes’.
Isaiah reached into his empty drink afterward and pressed his pinky into one of the thick holes in the middle of an ice cube. He lifted it out effortlessly, as it had not yet begun melting on his finger. He looked to her, watching the way her smile displayed over too-thin cheeks and how hollow, overbright eyes indicated both her interest and her want for another hit. He knew those expressions for specters and shadows, but to see it on Sidney broadened the gap between them.
“Open your mouth.”
A slow, warm grin spread across Sidney’s face as she propped her chin on her fists and watched Ice across the table. The way he smiled was nice, and it felt even better in the warmth of the alcohol she’d drunk. This felt more like the old Ice, the Ice that had held her hair while she barfed her guts out after a bender and brought her soup when she couldn’t make it out of bed. The Ice she’d cuddled up against after their last conquest had left, because cuddling was for the S.O., not for the flavor of the day.
“I’ve been told I have a silver tongue.” She murmured as she watched him watching her, moments passing by before the waitress swept by and dropped two more Whiskey Sours on the table. She wondered what he was thinking behind those perfect make-up eyes, if he was considering the offer or simply musing over her audacity to even ask. The worst he could say was no, right? And why say no? She wasn’t asking for strings… just a little fun, like the countless people they had ******** together and separately before seeing them on their way without a backwards glance. A roll of her tongue poked the ball at the end of her tongue ring between her lips and she rolled it back and forth as she reached for her drink, reclaiming the stud before she took another sip.
The clink of ice in his glass called her wandering attention and Sid glanced back to see him displaying a ring of ice on his smallest finger. It fit easily, slicking down his skin as it slowly melted. His command came as a surprise, but Sid considered it for only a moment before she pushed her heels into the rung of the stool. The short woman straightened up to stand on it, just long enough to drape herself stomach-down over the table and put her well within his arm’s reach. As she folded her arms in front of herself, she obediently dropped her mouth open to display the stud in her tongue with its little red heart on a white bead, watching his face as she did it. She was 90% sure he was going to put the ice in her mouth, but you never really knew. She was fully prepared, and nicely buzzed, for whatever Ice had planned.
Sarah and her floozy friends were just going to have to wait… she had no interest in joining them now and listen to their inane chatter about husbands and kids and who has the better hair stylist (or so she assumed, she couldn’t rightly remember what the gaggle of women had talked about on the way here). Her Ex had her full, hopeful attention as she sprawled across the table, uncaring what anyone thought about the way it hiked her skirt up as she bent at the waist.
Isaiah leaned across the table himself, though he had a much smaller distance to cross given her eagerness to present herself. As she anticipated, the cube slid off his pinky easily and lighted on her tongue, directly over the piercing. As it melted, the ice attempted to shift forward and drop back onto the table.
Isaiah stood afterward and flatted his hands against the beaten mahogany table to steady himself to the sudden drop in blood pressure. Or he preferred to pretend that was the case; truly, he reached tipsy status a while ago. “Were it any other girl, the easiest answer would be ‘yes’. But, between us, there haven’t been easy answers for months.” He reached out for her and brushed fingers along her jaw until he clasped her chin between thumb and fingers. The gesture lingered only a moment before his hand dropped back to the table. “So my answer is, ‘ask me later’. If you want a reason…” He opened his mouth and pointed inside. He then parted from the table entirely and started for the door, where he touched the brunette on the shoulder, spoke a word near her ear, and then resumed his path. She stood afterward and started to follow.
Ice melts, Sid.
Whimsical Blue
loggin!
