archwxy:
If Willow hadn’t been so… aware of the eyes that were locked onto the interaction between the two, she might have moved to hug him… she certainly felt the urge to, but part of her felt like everyone was waiting for it, and the obstinate side of her refused to appease them. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if some of the group that had eyes on them had wagers on if and when they’d get back together. Jess probably played the part of good friend and tried to put it to a stop before obliging and taking part in the betting. Willow wondered if her friend knew that her ex would be at the bar, tonight, and if that was why she’d been so persistent about getting Willow out.
When Justin decided the tension was just too much, breaking the silence of the rest of the group, her attention pulled away from August for just a moment. “You’re complaining to the wrong girl, Justin. It wasn’t exactly my idea of leave Zig and my couch behind, tonight,” she said before inhaling sharply and nodding. “Shots.” He might not have been offering to buy for the group, or even her, but she certainly needed one or two, and wouldn’t hesitate to steal whoever’s landed on the table and repay them later. It didn’t matter; her attention was no longer on Justin, or the fact that Jess was helplessly trying to flirt with Asher, who seemed to have done something to elicit a swear from August.
There was an air to things that was so reminiscent of days passed that she couldn’t help but smile for a moment, even as she rocked on the balls of her feet, moving her focus to the ground as she tried to keep herself from staring at August. Sure, they were actually in a bar, not the cafe down the street, or her dad’s barn, or one of the others’ barns, but otherwise… things weren’t that different, except for every glaring thing that was. Instead of focusing on those things, though, she let her focus fall to the music as the band in the corner started warming up. By the time they were starting their first song, the server had come back with a tray of shots and left the table again, and without hesitating, Willow grabbed two, throwing one back, and then following it quickly with the other. “I owe someone a shot. You guys can fight each other over whose shot I stole,” she stated simply, with a faked smile that came across all too naturally, ignoring the fact that she had grabbed the one in front of August.
With that, Willow lacked hesitation as she grabbed Jess by the wrist. “You wanted me to come out and have fun, you get to dance with me,” she said as the band started in on a cover of Sledgehammer. Her body found the groove of the music, easily, and by the time the band was playing the first chorus, she was singing right along with it. “I wanna be… your sledgehammer! Why don’t you call my name?”
If she had hugged him, he would have broken. He had always been the one his friends made fun of for being too emotional or sentimental over things. That was why he was so good at his job, though. Dealing with pet parents who thought their furry children deserved the world was easy for him. He knew that each animal, baby rabbit to giant great dane and everything scaly in between, deserved the best and he was there to make sure they got it. Being in tune to emotions helped him with that.
When Willow mentioned Zig, August couldn’t help but smile. That dog had been around for a long time and August had been in love with him from the moment he met him. August had never considered himself a cat person or a dog person but as a younger guy, he had found himself drawn to cats. His sister, while a lover of all animals, definitely leaned in the cat direction. Though, from what he understood now, her boyfriend had quite the dog that had clearly stolen her heart. Though the Kowalczyk’s had always leaned toward cats, when he had met Zig, things changed. There was just something about the way the little guy greeted him whenever he showed up, regardless of how his day had been or what the weather was like; Zig was always a positive force.
HIs own dog, Taco, had been an impulse rescue about 9 months ago, on the tail end of his final year in the program. The little guy had come in with a busted rib cage, bruises, and open wounds. Clearly a severe case of animal abuse and neglect. Less than 24 hours later, August was signing the papers to take him home once he was healed up. 9 months later, he was still learning things about Taco - the spatula was a no-go. Something had obviously happened there. But he was great with other dogs, younger children, even cats, and goodness, was he a sight for sore eyes after a 12 hour shift at the clinic.
By the time the shot girl had come back with the tray full of doubles, August had almost forgotten that Justin ordered them. Willow, apparently, had not, taking two shots in quick succession. Half of him wondered if she had shot both like that because he was here but letting himself walk down that path was going to lead anywhere good.
She stole Jess away and Asher nudged August as soon as they were out of ear shot, muttering something crass about Jess; August rolled his eyes and smacked his friend. “Asshole. Be nice. Jess is a good person.” “I’m just saying...she looks good.” “Yeah...she does.” His eyes, though, were focused solely on Willow. -- Somehow, after another shot and a few encouragements from his friends, August was up and out on the dance floor, though he was hanging back. And he couldn’t stop looking at her. He was trying, really, he was. His friends were’t hesitating in pointing it out, either. Each time one of them pushed him toward her, he’d turn right around and smack whoever it had been. Then he felt two sets of hands on his back and just like that, he wasn’t able to keep his footing. Instead, he stumbled forward and was inches from her.
He swallowed and let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Hey. They’re still massive childish assholes, huh?” Throwing his finger over his shoulder toward his friends who were completely focused on other things now that they had caused this interaction. “I can...I can go...if you want me to.” His hand was back in his hair, a nervous habit. He didn’t want go.
