Maggie took a few steps back, teetering in heels before coming to a stop at the porcelain sink. She perched her ass on the edge of basin, hands curling around the edge, cool to the touch. It was one of those dumb grounding exercises that actually helped. Name something you can touch, something you can see, something you can hear, blah blah blah. She'd done it over and over again, in and out of rehab. Right now it was working to keep the grimace off of her face as Amy's words hit her square in the chest. Whatever. She guessed she kind of deserved that one.
"I guess it doesn't." she said, pursing her lips. Because it didn't, really. It didn't matter how Maggie spelled it out, Amy clearly had no interest in rekindling whatever mutually orgasmic thing they had going on. It didn't matter whether or not Maggie had a boyfriend - or that her tolerance for men came and went with alarming rapidity - what mattered to Amy was that she'd been, well, kind of an asshole.
The beginning prickling of guilt sat heavy on her chest. She was good at hurting people's feelings, less so at owning up to her wrongdoings. Looking at Amy now, with her fluttering, fidgeting hands and her words echoing off the walls of the art-deco bathroom, Maggie was reminded of all the times she'd accidentally upset Sephy. Her face would turn downwards into a little half-pout, like she was trying not to let onto the fact Maggie had been a colossal bitch. Nothing hurt worse than upsetting Sephy, because Sephy was one of her oldest friends, and pretty much the kindest, sweetest person she'd ever met.
It didn't make much sense that seeing Amy uncomfortable would garner that same feeling she got when she made her best friend sad. There were few similarities between them. Except, well, the stirrings of attraction Maggie tried hard to push down when she saw both girls. And the fact that she kind of cared what they both thought of her.
Fuck, she like, cared about what Amy thought of her!
She drummed her fingers against the side of the sink, biting back a sigh as she frowned at the other girl.
"I don't date men." she stated, voice unwavering as she stared at Amy.
Ugh. She so hated grovelling.
"I'm sorry I was mean." she tried, fully aware of how icky and juvenile her words sounded. "And I'm sorry I didn't call. I can't remember if I said I would call, but. Anyway. It would have been like, courteous to call."
Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she gave the other girl a quick once over, trying to judge if her pathetic plea for forgiveness was working to loosen her up at all.
"This whole situation is lowkey super humiliating, so. I would really like if we could just call it even. And part ways as um, unlikely friends?" she rambled, feeling the skin stretch taut across her knuckles as her grip on the sink grew tighter. "That's if, you like, don't want to see me again?"
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