Who: Melinda and Gwen (Gwelinda?) Where: Melinda's flat When: tuesday evening What: PMS tequila and biscuits, and then opportunity-sex. Warnings: they are sexing it up
Fucking Alec. Melinda had been writing back and forth to him while she had tequila and chocolate with Gwen, trying to kill her PMS. Being the queen of denial, Melinda still knew herself well enough to know that if she really wasn't interested in Alec, she wouldn't be answering him. She could try to blame it on being slightly drunk, but she was drinking slowly and knew the alcohol hadn't hit her all that hard.
Gwen didn't seem to mind Melinda occasionally scribbling comments, so she closed her journal and sat it down, picking up another biscuit. "Oh, don't even get me started on her." Melinda thought it was pretty impressive that she was keeping up a conversation, too (if only barely). "What she could possibly have been thinking I'll never know. She can't need to get laid that badly." Oh god, now she was thinking about getting laid, and what Alec's words were doing to her. She fussed vaguely with her necklace and squirmed a little in her seat, glancing unconsciously at her journal again. It was probably pathetic to be wondering this much if he'd answered yet.