|Tory Wyler has always been defined by (theabsence) wrote in repose,|
@ 2020-04-14 14:54:00
|Entry tags:||*log, jamie mayer, plot: memories, tory wyler|
Log: Tory W and Jamie M - Jamie's Apartment
Who: Tory W and Jamie M
What: Pizza and tequila and good ideas
Where: Jamie's apartment
When: After this and this
Warnings/Rating: PG-13 but the sex does happen
Tory picked up the pizza - mushrooms, onions, peppers - and started the climb to Jamie's apartment. Fortunately he hadn't suffered any crazy visions while driving into town, though now that was going to be a thing he was constantly aware of for the foreseeable future. Thanks, Repose! He'd never liked driving in the first place and after a lifetime spent in New York and DC, even these small trips were kind of a novelty. He hadn't owned the car very long, and he'd only learned how to drive a few years ago. Public transportation was really a blessing that needed to be introduced to the darker corners of the world AKA this tiny little nowhere town.
Look, he wasn't nervous, and he had zero expectations about what this was going to be. As far as he was concerned, he had adequately communicated his thoughts about hookups. It didn't stop him from taking a shower before he'd left the house, or putting on something comfortable and cute, because those were basic human rights. Was he a little lonely? Sure, who the hell wasn't? Jamie seemed like an okay dude, there was pizza to eat, and tequila to drink. Which okay, maybe throwing tequila into the equation could turn the whole situation on its head, but he was really trying not to over-analyze, here. Part of him wanted to say so what if it did? It had been three years, two months, and eleven days since the last time he'd had sex (his last boyfriend: Bradley Richter, in his 88-square-foot dorm room at Georgetown). Part of him thought maybe in a new town he just needed a few friends, first, but he'd never been good at friends.
Well, he was there now, knocking at the door. Tall: six feet even. Red hair, tending more toward brown than orange, a little messy and falling about just to the tops of his shoulders these days. Pale skin, splashed with freckles: face, arms, legs, elsewhere. Build not so much stocky or slim as much as almost perfectly average. Posture was relaxed, almost lazy, even. Tory wasn't a pretty chill guy. Yes, he could be uptight, he could be obsessive, but he wasn't the kind of guy who ran around like a headless chicken. He was methodical, measured. Prone to over-thinking and over-analyzing before he acted. So: Did part of him think that maybe this was a little crazy? Perhaps, out of character? Yes, but. This guy, Jamie, he'd seen the Colin thing. It had Tory knocked off-kilter.
So, you know what? Come what may.