@campalive asked: Aren’t you going to have coffee ?
He had been sitting silently at Ziggy’s table for the last ten minutes, eyes on his coffee and hands wrapped around it– its warmth dissipating over time. It was Saturday. The morning after he spent the night on Heather’s couch after spending too fucking long lip locked with her only to have her fall asleep on her bed in a pause of it. He knew they weren’t going to have sex, knew that they weren’t going to roll around but he still felt like absolute shit over the whole thing. She’d been drunk. He shouldn’t have let her kiss him. And the fact this morning she didn’t even remember any of it? He really felt like a fucking idiot.
He had dropped her off at the bar so she could collect her car and left without saying much else beyond a quiet you’re welcome. It had dug at him, tore at him, crippled him. He needed to talk about it in some fashion but going home to where his kids would soon be returning didn’t seem right. They didn’t need to see him staring at the liquor cabinet in yearning. So he went to Ziggy’s. Went to the one friend he knew he could turn to if he needed to. He’d been fixing up her house for years now– their friendship almost natural despite her strange state of living.
He showed up fifteen minutes ago, five minutes to brew the coffee with idle conversation and the rest of it to sit in his thoughts. That was until she spoke up, aren’t you going to have coffee? He flicked his blue eyes to her face then back down to his lukewarm drink, frown slowly pulling to his lips, “Sorry, I… I got a lot goin’ on in my head. Can’t stop thinkin’.”
A few dishes needed to be done and, for now, it was busy work as she allowed Travis into the quaint, little home for some type of solace that was surely needed by the look of it. Either way, she didn’t mind. It was nice to have company and they’d known each other for a while. She considered him a friend. Besides, after last night.. with Nick, she needed someone else to cleanse the damn place. The table was, still, a bit to the left from where it had been just the morning before. She didn’t even think to return to the kitchen to replay the moment in her head and, yet, it still happened as she stood back against the sink and stared at the table with an intensity that could beam a whole into the wood.
She kept alcohol in the house and given that she drunk way too much of it right after giving Nick the boot, she stashed it away so the both of them couldn’t look with a deep desire for liquor. Instead, shaky hands moved to the table where her pack of cigarettes and lighter laid and she lit one in the middle of the kitchen. “Do you want one?” she offered with a shrug. Just in case. It sure as hell was terrible for her health but it calmed her nerves to simply have it held between two fingers. The dishes were done, she could sit across from him and continue their little conversation. Not that it’d been intriguing before, but it was enough to bring some obvious uncertainty between the both of them.
“Aren’t you going to have coffee?” she asked, a brow rose with some concern and he responded with something that she felt too familiar with. She, too, stuck in thought and it might’ve been clear by the inhale, a long drag before smoke was blown away from his face that concluded with an exhausted sigh. “Penny for your thoughts?”
