noemi couldn't remember the last time she'd gone out like this. like really went out ⸻ all dress up in her little white baby tee, wide-legged jeans, kitten heels and a perfume that didn't wear off to smell like crayons or an art project. she'd be lying if guilt wasn't sitting in the pit of her stomach for being so excited, rarely having a night out without baby attached to her hip or work cluttering her table. it was clear, anxiety still nipping at her nape after having argued with jude for an hour to make sure he had everything for the nth time, as if she hadn't taught him how to take care of a three-year-old. leaned against bar counter, hips sway to the beat of the music as lips wrap around straw, sipping away at her long island tea while eyeing the dance floor. line-dancing was still a complete mystery to her, swearing she had two left feet for the genre and would much rather watch. it's clear she's not the only one watching, brown eyes drifting until they meet a pair of familiar eyes; ones that look like they've been waiting for her to look over ... and she groans with annoyance. gaze snaps away in hopes he was only gawking at someone else, anybody, biting at the plastic of her straw.
&. @coyotetm , franks @ 9pm.
