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@strawberrybounces
strawberrybounces🍓 ────────── penned by leigh. dash-only. highly selective, private-leaning ( depending on my mood ). moderate to low activity, independent roleplay blog centered around a fictional band i created called strawberry bounce. ( 26, she/her, pst. ) ♡
𑁯 guidelines. ♡ muses. ♡ opens. ♡ opposites. ♡ wishlist. ♡ pinterest. ♡ spotify.
open to: anyone muse: simeon evans. he/him. tv + radio host.
the bad thing about on-and-off-again relationships was the way you’d swear up and down that last time was the last time. you’d cry to your friends and let them drag your ex to hell and back only to end up right here, back in their arms, pretending it was different this time because there weren’t any labels attached, like that’d complicate things less. they’d even made rules: no sleepovers, no cuddling, no slipping back into old habits. yet here simeon was, tucked against them, limbs tangled up in the sheets. “don’t move,” he murmured, eyes still closed as he pulled them closer. “we’re already breaking every rule, so just stay the night. too late to be driving anyway.”
open to: anyone muse: sahar amani. she/her. chef.
this, them in her kitchen, while she prepared a meal had all started with a day sahar spent cooking way too much food for her now ex-boyfriend. he’d stood her up for the billionth time, never caring about the effort or the hoops she jumped through just to keep them connected. she’d been seconds away from breaking down from all the relationship turmoil when a knock hit her door. toilet paper. her neighbor only wanted to borrow toilet paper and somehow ended up sitting across from her, eating the meal meant for a date night that never happened. somehow that night turned into this. the two of them cozying up almost every evening over a homemade meal. “you know we’re not going to have anything to eat if you keep 'taste-testing' everything?”
open to: anyone muse: franco molina. he/him. manager of his family's bar.
he wasn’t even supposed to be here. franco usually handled the business side of the bar. but gael ( the regular bartender and his little brother ) was sick, and his little sisters were off doing god knows what, so here he was, sleeves rolled up, running drinks like he used to. seeing them walk in felt like seeing a ghost. franco molina wasn’t a man who rattled easy. he was stoic, all about work and family, nothing more. but seeing them, someone he once considered family, someone he’d been ready to give his grandmother’s ring, cut deeper. he set a glass down on the bar a little too hard. the only indicator that their presence threw him off. “you’ve got a lot of nerve even walking in here.”
open to: anyone muse: jay piché. he/him. backline tech.
it took a lot for jay to even work up the courage to do this. he knew it was selfish as hell, doing this the weekend of their wedding. a wedding they wanted him in. but he couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t hurt, couldn’t keep acting like watching them build a future with somebody else didn’t kill him. if they actually went through with it he knew he’d never forgive himself for staying quiet. “are you— are you sure you really want to go through with this? the wedding, i mean.”
" you sound a little defensive. did i hit a nerve ? " her head tilts, smallest hint of a smirk shifting into place. she's playing with fire and she knows it, but there's some fucked up part of her that enjoys toying with the idea of being burned. " or are you just rattled because you know i'm closing in ? "
“ trust me, you haven’t seen me defensive or rattled. but it’s cute that you think you’re doing something. ” mouse bites into a mozzarella stick, immediately distracted by the ridiculous cheese pull like he isn’t mid-interrogation with some short little nancy drew wannabe. he lounges back in the booth, posture disrespectfully relaxed. he’s fucking with her mostly out of boredom. mouse always thinks they’re the smartest person in the room, and honestly, most of the time they are, even if they act like an overgrown toddler 99% of the time. he’s been committing crimes since he was young. he covers his tracks well and right now she had no proof that he was behind the array of credit card scams around town. “ do you ever sit back and, y’know, unclench ? ” he asks, pointing his mozzarella stick at her. “being this invested in other people’s business can’t be good for your mind or body.” he gestures around them like they’re somewhere elaborate. “i bring you to fine dining” they’re at chili’s “and you don’t even touch your triple dipper. just ungrateful and rude and i'm supposed to be the criminal ? ”
samira 'slim' heyward, 24, lesbian, she/her, freelancer. based on ✶.
“ tell your homegirls that you leaving. ”
max had been enjoying herself. girls’ night out, acting single even if she technically wasn’t. who cared? if slim was gonna do her, then max was gonna match her energy. she didn’t even need to turn around to know the voice. part of her wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard it at all and keep dancing. but she knew better. ignoring her would only make it worse. she spun around with a glare. “first of all, watch your mouth,” she scolded. “second, i leave when i feel like leaving. not when you tell me to.”
galilea la salvia as frankie garcia bravo in season 2, episode 4 of goosebumps: the vanishing.
· · closed / @strawberrybounces.
jason had been to a few concerts this year, but when his homeboy lamar told him to pull up with him to the strawberry bounce show ⸻ he didn't know what to expect; he was a newcomer with no recollection of their music, lyrics, info ⸻ nothing. he fucked wit' artists like jaden smith ( msftsrep era specificialy ), tyler the creator, PARTYOF2. and other artists under that weird, experimental r&b/hip-hop umbrella. maybe that's why lamar invited him in the first place. the show was fire, he was fuckin' wit' their style. despite lamar giving him a contact high, his eyes were stuck on the keyboardist in the corner. after everything was over, he bit the bullet and decided to just approach the male; the goal was to be easygoing, calm, whimsical as fuck ⸻ he wasn't a flirt or even great a small talk. “ sup man, ” he immediately regretted this as soon as the words left his mouth. a deep sigh, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he mentally cursed himself. “ m-my bad for bothering you... i just wanted to say y'all were lit... especially y-you. i fuck wit' the steve lacy on keys thang you go going on... ” was he flirting or acting like a fan? hell if he knew.
after a show, the rush that torrance felt was always like no other. it was one thing to make music and enjoy it himself, but it was another to see people vibing out to something HE created. usually, once they got offstage, his stomach was touching his back, so he’d go grab something to eat and roll up or hit his vape. people didn’t usually stop him. it wasn’t like he was famous ( not yet, at least ) and even when strawberry bounce DID get attention, it was almost always on the frontwoman malia or posey and his tattoos and the perpetual bad boy aura people swore he had. never on the goofy keyboardist who wore a spider-man shirt onstage. so when he actually got approached, let alone by a dude stuttering over his words over him, hell yeah he was gonna lean into it. he instantly felt cocky. a big goofy grin spread across his face before he let it drop into a mock serious look. “security!” he shouted out. then he cracked, laughing loudly. “naaaah, i’m just fuckin’ with you, bro.” torrance reached out and punched his shoulder lightly, the grin instantly back on. “but seriously, thank you. you’re not bothering me. you actually just made my night. i’m glad you fuck with what we’re doing ⸻ and you’ve obviously got good taste if i was the highlight for you.” he was already testing the waters. shit, he was single-single. OVERLY single. and flirting never hurt nobody.
Offering a wide grin as he mentioned pushing her off the balcony she resisted the urge to make a comment about no one blaming him if he did. If she allowed herself to be honest Charlie had been one of the best parts of young adulthood. They had the same sense of humor, he had great taste in music plus it didn’t hurt that he was sorta, kinda cute. Sure his dad was a complete prick during his time as mayor but honestly it had allowed them to get away with more than they probably should have though normally it was Charlie getting stuck going along with whatever master evil plan she had concocted. He had been her favorite person, her person. They had spent hours while away on college complaining about the pressure they were under from their parents, the expectations placed on them and for her that included marriage. The women in their coastal town sat in silence, drinking all day while their kids were raised by nannies and their husbands cheated with god knows who. Even her own mother who was successful independently still submitted to whatever Dru’s father said with little pushback. It made her sick and she had always had too much of a wild streak to ever sit by and be Charlie Ashford, political prodigy’s quiet wife who got drunk and barely remembered their kids names. Surely he knew that right?
Listening as he gave the most neutral, parliamentary response ever she couldn’t help the face she was making. Her nose wrinkled as she slowly blinked at him. “You know it’s okay for you to hate me if you want? If the roles were reversed I would hate you, I’d actually be keying your car right now.” Giving a smug smirk as she took a small inhale from the cigarette dangling between her fingers her expression quickly changed to his next statement. Now one of mock offense. “Did you just…did you just call me old? I will have you know everyone says I don’t look a day over 23 which is well within Leo’s dating bracket..” Scoffing at the idea that she would ever look anything other than a young tenderoni Dru chuckled, head shaking. “So are you here with tonight’s entertainment or are you really stalking me? Either answer is fine.” Dru may have heard from an industry friend that strawberry bounce was performing tonight and she may have been secretly keeping tabs on Charlie's career since they separated. Maybe. “You know Doja was originally supposed to be here but, rumor has it she and her new boyfriend got into some huge fight and he threw her entire wardrobe out of the tour bus window. You did not hear this from me though…”
charlie caught the look on her face at his little pr safe answer and let out an amused snort. he’d always loved that about her. how even when her mouth didn’t say a thing, her face did. he knew he should hate her. hell, after everything, it would’ve been easier. but despite the part that still stung, he knew he could never truly hate drusilla bowen, even if he tried his damndest to. she was magnetic. always a star in her own right. he loved that she was larger than life. no one made him laugh or smile the way she did. he wasn’t about to rewrite history and pretend the woman who gave him some of his best years was worthy of hate. maybe she’d made the hard decision for both of them, and maybe that had been brave in hindsight. he had been rushing, trying to follow the example he’d watched every man in his family lead. ‘perfect’ career by 25, ‘perfect’ marriage by 30. only to turn into another bored, stagnant couple on billionaires’ isle, resenting each other for reasons neither could name. dru was too much of a star to be trapped like that and it took getting his heart broken for him to realize that. “i don’t hate you,” he said. “i’m happy for you.” and he meant it. teen vogue, w, elle. she was building something real, something hers. he always knew fashion was her true passion. “i think it’s cool that we’re both, y’know, doing our own thing. on our own merit, not our parents'. i probably wouldn’t be able to say that if—” his voice drifted off. he didn’t finish the sentence, just took a drag of his cigarette and let the thought die. if they’d gotten married. he decided to lean into joking, it was easier than opening old wounds. “we’re both old. even if you were 23, you’d still be right on the cusp of leo’s cutoff.” he rolled his eyes playfully at her teasing. “i’m sure you’d love the idea of me showing up to every party trying to sniff you out like gatsby. but no, my band’s performing. strawberry bounce.” he shrugged, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. in reality, the band was his baby, the first thing he’d ever done completely on his own, and he was damn proud of what they’d built from the ground up. he barked out a laugh at the exclusive gossip, head tipping back. “that’s crazy, but kinda tracks. anytime a man dates a woman more famous than him he gotta act up at least once. ego’s one hell of a disease. what about you? you got someone new you'd throw clothes out of a window for?” that was his not so subtle way of seeing if she was single.
suri felt her stomach knot the second she saw aneesa beam across the challenge. all smiles and giggles like the cameras weren't even there. like she wasn't even there. at least, the jealously in her didn't let her see that all those smiles and giggles were because of her. "fun, huh?" she muttered under her breath with a pout on display for the world to see. then it hit her, she'd spend all this time pretending like she didn't have feelings for the other woman. like the men she'd been coupled up with before this challenge meant nothing to her. "ugh, fine." she stepped closer to the other. "but you can blast me if you want. i'm sure you're better at aiming at me than at ... whatever that was." she gestured between aneesa and her previous partner. "let's kick some ass cause i got something to tell you after all this." and just like that, suri she wasn't gonna hide how she really felt anymore.
“fun.” aneesa echoed in a goofy little voice, still holding the water gun up. even with the pout sitting pretty on suri’s lips, aneesa knew she wouldn’t enjoy a second of the challenge if suri was off to the side sulking. the second suri groaned out a reluctant ‘fine,’ aneesa’s whole face lit up. she dropped the water gun instantly, letting it clatter to the ground in favor of grabbing suri’s hand instead. sure, they were technically going off from the usual game rules but she didn’t care. not when she finally got to be here with the woman she actually wanted, not the partner she’d been lumped with. “i’ll only blast you if you start that frowning again,” she teased, squeezing suri’s hand as she tugged her toward the start line. the prospect of suri having something to tell her made her even more eager to get through this. the challenge itself was one of those messy, over the top obstacle courses producers loved. the final target being a board they were supposed to soak with water guns. “come on, let’s show them how this is done so you can tell me what’s on your mind.”
open to: males !! connection: fellow rich kid or son of someone who worked for her parents. scenario: years after ending their relationship drusilla runs into the only boyfriend she has ever had at a party.
Fumbling with the lighter in her hand Dru’s eyes narrowed at the man next to her, trying to figure out what his end game was. Sure they had dated for nearly a decade but those types of things didn’t count when you were kids. Their families intertwined it had only made since for two awkward, clumsy 15 year olds to end up together and be there first everything. It also made perfect sense for that relationship to follow her throughout college, a stressful long-distance love affair that kept her locked away in her dorm most friday nights on the phone with him instead of out with friends. This was all things that had made sense to her once upon a time because it’s what every love sick girl went through in those shitty romance novels she stole from her mom’s bookshelf. All the women met one man who drove them to the brink of insanity and then they eventually lived happily ever after. This however wasn’t the case. She had finally worked up the nerve to break up with him a year after graduation on the same night he had decided to propose. The aftermath had been messy to say the least and now, however many years later they had ended up in the same city, at the same party, sharing the same cigarette. Worst of all he was being nice to her.
“So what’s up with you, are you here to lure me into a fall sense of security before you kill me? I can’t end up an episode of a true crime podcast, even though it would be so good. They might even make a lifetime movie…” Frowning as the thought of actress who plays Erica on Stranger Things acting out her life story made Dru cringe. “Listen I know the last time we saw each other wasn’t the best but I don’t want things to be weird. We were kids, and I couldn’t be anyone’s wife. If we got married I never would have gotten to party on Leonardo Dicaprio’s boat and ghost him the next day. That’s a vital part of my genetic makeup now.”
growing up in nantucket as the son of the mayor meant a lot of expectations. basically, his whole life had been set up from the moment he took his first breath. the ashfords and bowens had a long-standing relationship. intertwined through business and a shared social circle. he always felt connected to dru, maybe because they were close in age, or maybe because they shared an understanding as the overlooked children, the ones whose parents cared more about appearances than them themselves. he loved her before he even knew what love was, and what started as puppy love had grown into something real. so real that even when he got to columbia law and she went to yale, miles apart and buried in grueling prelaw work, it didn’t stop him from wanting to be with her for the rest of his life. in fact, she had been the only thing keeping him sane through those rough college years. while most of his peers were partying or cheating on girlfriends from back home, he was tucked away in his dorm, facetiming her and shopping for rings. after they graduated, he thought everything was going perfectly. it had been a year, they were living together, but life rarely went the way you expected. he proposed, and she broke his heart. maybe that was the catalyst for him deciding not to go to law school, and risk losing money and his parents’ affection to chase a career in managing a band. the band was the reason he was at this party tonight. they were performing, and he’d heard whispers here and there that dru might show up. he wasn’t going to let her make him cower from an opportunity that could be huge. he plastered on that perfect mayoral son smile, the one he’d perfected over years of being charles ashford ii, knowing it would help him survive the night civilly. but first, he needed a cigarette. they’d always been two sides of the same coin. when he made his way to the balcony, there she was, all her glory, fumbling with a lighter. he swiftly took one out of his pocket and lit hers, leaning casually against the wall next to her, one foot kicked up. the silence stretched between them until she spoke up. “yeah, i’m going to push you off the balcony when you least expect it.” he snorted sarcastically, lighting a cigarette of his own. “going straight for the elephant in the room? i thought we’d have more drinks before we talked about that.” he took a slow drag, letting the cigarette hang between his fingers. “things will never be weird between us, even if we tried. we’d be good. we are good.” maybe he was trying to convince himself more than anything. it still stung. what rejected proposal wouldn’t? but if they had gotten married, he probably would’ve been stuck under his parents’ thumb, living a life in politics he hated, and that fact was the one silver lining he could find. “aren’t you a little too old for him? surprised he didn’t kick you off the boat for being a bag of bones.”
"hey, shh, mama's sleepin'.." dempsey's shushing did little to quiet their babbling three year old he had in tow as he tried to heft the groceries into the house. two trips were for the weak, and plus he knew their son would immediately make a beeline for her the moment dempsey stepped outside. not just that, but after having spent two more extra days with his dad, he knew that he would be missing his mom more than usual. but as soon as the male had answered the phone and heard her voice, he knew she was sick and agreed to keep the baby until game night. setting everything on the kitchen island, he could see the lump of blankets stirring on the couch and knew it was her, a silent curse on his lips. "i thought you'd be in your room, sorry." he murmured, coming up behind the couch and scooping up their son who was already clambering up onto her. "i uh, got you guys some food, easy stuff you just have to heat up...and his normals." dempsey explained, bouncing the toddler on his hip as he started fussing.
mariana heard faint voices, the kind that barely register when you’re half-asleep and nothing really makes sense yet. she realized she had fallen asleep on the couch. one second she had been curled up in a blanket, watching hocus pocus because it always made her feel better when she was under the weather, and now she felt the weight of something climbing on her lap. she hated being sick. it wasn’t just the physical exhaustion. it was the way it pulled her out of her work, forced her to reschedule appointments, and let people down. she was independent and always moving. being sick made her feel small and helpless. and in a sense, she felt like she’d let dempsey down too. she knew he likely wouldn’t mind spending a few extra days with their son, but caring for a toddler while preparing for a big game was a lot. she didn’t want to put that stress on him, but she didn’t want to risk getting their son sick more so. she opened her eyes fully at the sound of his quiet apology. “it’s okay,” she murmured, voice still full of sleep. she got up, stretching, and walked over to the pair, brushing their little boy’s cheek before planting a gentle kiss there. “hi, baby,” she whispered. “did you miss me?” she smiled fondly at his reaction before looking up at dempsey. “you didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” she moved to unpack the groceries, already feeling bad about him having to even buy them in the first place. “how was he? did he give you hell during bedtime again?”
shit. he really should have turned that sign around -- and maybe locked the door for good measure. the last thing he needed after a long shift was this. sure, there'd been a time - what felt like forever ago, now - where the sound of that voice would have sent the butterflies in his stomach into a tizzy, but, now? after all this time? ...okay, well, maybe the butterflies were technically still there, but so was a new unease, like they were going nuts because they were trying to get away.
what was he doing here? wasn't that a whole big thing back then? that he'd wanted to get away? ...even if it meant leaving wilder behind? that's how it'd felt, anyway. but now, posey was back, out of the blue, causing wilder to smear the buttercream frosting and ruin his hard work, leaving him with no choice but to abandon the project for the moment and actually give posey his attention, knowing there was no way he'd succeed in creating something up to the high standards he'd created for himself.
wilder's head lifts, and the regret is instant when his eyes land on the man standing in the otherwise empty shop, instantly clocking the way that, somehow, he'd managed to get even better looking in their time apart. damn it. this would be a lot easier if he'd come back ugly.
"...never met a rule you weren't just dying to break, did you?" not entirely applicable in this case, considering that the sign wasn't even turned yet, but, well, it was at least a better response than simply drooling over the guy, so wilder decided to chalk that up as a successful interaction. "my customer service voice turns off at five, sorry." another non-answer, but deflection seemed like the only safe route to take right now, at least until he got a better read on the situation. "...and you don't need to tell me you walked in the snow - i can see that you tracked it all in here. thanks for that."
part of posey relished the reaction. the tension in the air was palpable. he could see it on wilder’s face and in the smeared buttercream that his presence had shaken him up. maybe it was assholeish of him. or maybe it was the part of him that thrived in bad situations. shaped by a childhood that was basically fight or flight, he found comfort in the uncomfortable. but knowing he still had an effect on wilder, well, that only made it better. he stepped further into the shop, past the counter, through the little swively swing door, and right up into wilder’s space. he knew he was getting too close. but god, he missed him. not that he’d ever admit it aloud. hell no. he wasn’t the guy who still fawned over his high school boyfriend, nor the guy who stalked socials whenever he got restless on the tour bus, nor the one who wrote pages upon pages of lyrics and poems about him. and yet, he couldn’t help the way his eyes scanned wilder’s face, then down his body, down to his hands. hands he used to love so much. he quickly looked back up with a smirk. he’d rather play games than be the one to fold first. “the door was open,” he said, stepping closer, reaching a finger out and swiping some buttercream off the cake. he licked it slowly, savoring the taste. he wasn’t really a sweets guy, but he was playing it up just to annoy wilder. “never said you being mean was a bad thing. about time you grew some balls. maybe now our fights’ll be more interesting.” he glanced down at the snow he’d tracked in. “snow melts. mops exist.” and then he realized he didn’t have a plan. his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, dragging him into the bakery. he had no idea what he wanted from this, but it was too late to back out now. “only you would be working overtime during the holidays.”
@strawberrybounces
open to. any gender.
plot. here <3
"wait." with the urgency of an apocalypse situation, quinn screeched to a halt on their parent's front walk and whirled to face their ex. "i just want to say this before we go in. thank you. for doing this. you didn't have to, but you did. and that means a lot to me. even after everything." the melodrama continues as they reach for the other's hand with a deep, deep breath.
andrea had been reaching for the door when they suddenly stopped in their tracks. “okay, meryl streep, nice speech, but it’s just one weekend. it’s not like i’m giving you a kidney.” she rolled her eyes. though she wasn’t actually annoyed. if anything, she found quinn’s dramatics kind of endearing. she took their hand and gave it two quick squeezes, an easy little ‘i’m here’ gesture. “relax, q. they’re your parents, they love me, and i’m a good actor. they won’t even know we broke up.” she glanced at the door again. “can i knock now or are you gonna keep stalling?”
· · closed / @strawberrybounces.
she was just trying to get free drinks... that's all brianna janae brown had intended on doing when she went to the club with dani: look hot, flirt with fine ass men ( and women ) with money and status, get tricked on, give them a fake google number, then leave. and that is exactly what happened when she met remy. they were in VIP, and remy had called her friend, posey, to come and get brianna and dani ⸻ inviting them into their section. they met, shots were had, words were exchanged. and brianna, somewhere along the way, expressed that she needed some spontaneity. remy, on the other hand, was playing her hand the right way. because as soon as she convinced brianna that they should steal and joyride a 2025 mclaren 750s. “ you know, when i said 'let's be spontaneous', i didn't mean STEALING A CAR... ” and before brianna knew it, her foot was hitting the gas faster as she tried to make every light.
let her tell it, remy wasn’t about the club scene yet her ass was ALWAYS in somebody’s club, popping bottles, throwing money, tricking on the first fine girl that caught her eye. dani always had the baddest friends. the second she spotted brianna she was on her. she pulled them straight into her section, flexing a little money, talking her slick talk and when brianna said she wanted spontaneity it was over. spontaneity might as well be her middle name. her, mouse, and posey grew up stealing cars and taking joyrides just for the hell of it, so hotwiring a mclaren was light work. remy just laughed, leaning back in the passenger seat like brianna was cruising a damn honda. “girl, relax,” she said, unbothered as ever. “your foot a little heavy on that pedal. calm down, ma. you straight with me.”
· · closed / @strawberrybounces.
craig had his game on lock, knowing exactly how scamming each girl in his phone would go; he'd make a fake profile as a retired NFL quarterback named jerrell, using the face of some guy he'd found on pinterest who'd been in the league longer than he'd been alive, older with status. and whether he realized it or not, women his age were young and naive ⸻ tiara being one of them. so, when it came time for them to meet, craig had built out a story that since he was now in retirement, he was putting all of his money into offshore accounts, business investments ⸻ other assets and details he couldn't share. ALL OF IT WAS A LIE. “ yo, wassup ma? ” craig approached tiara, smirking as if he were just some guy off the street trying to holla. “ yo' IG doesn't do you justice, you real life fine shyt. how you doin', baby? ”
tiara always liked a man with money or even better, a man with money who stayed out the way. what drew her to jerrell wasn’t just his status as a retired nfl player, but the fact that his instagram was basically empty. no clout chasing or obsession with likes. talking to him online had been perfect enough that she actually wanted to see what he was like in person. now she’s standing there, all long legs and tall stature, arms crossed as she looks at who she THINKS is jerrell. maybe her contacts are acting up, or maybe she’s trippin’, but this man looks nothing like his profile picture. her eyes drag from his head to his toes. she expected a retired nfl player to be taller than her in heels not someone she literally had to look down at. he also looks WAAAAY too young to have already retired but she figured nfl players knock each other upside the head so much that it could be plausible. the real hook was the money. offshore accounts, investments, the lifestyle she was used to. going from affluence to cut off had been rough, and tiara was looking for a provider, point blank. “first of all, ‘wassup’ is crazy,” she says, mouth hanging open in shock, but tiara is simple. the second he tells her she looks better in person than on the gram, she’s smiling from ear to ear, doing a little twirl. “boy, stop⸻ you see it!” she preens, posing for a second before collecting herself. “i’m doing better now that you finally quit dodging me. i thought i was gonna have to call nev on your ass if you didn’t show up this time.”
