Weeks later - Mid 2017
There was always some girl hanging around or off of Bishop. Teagan wasn't one of them. She didn't hang off anyone. She stood on her own two feet. If any of the men in the park propositioned her, or hit on her she was quick to shoot them down. That wasn't why she was here. She didn't want it. Those types of interactions would open complications she wasn't in a mental state to deal with. Even the physical act - separate and wholly unattached - was something she was unprepared to face.
"Sure thing." She said, moving her legs and feet from the seat she'd kicked them on to. A make-shift ottoman. "Ginger peachy, Darlin'."
Bishop was different in that he was the only one here that made her wonder, made her think on things she didn't want to think on. The outrageous guilt she felt was palpable when she realized. It felt like she was cheating on the dead. There could be no denying that the dreams she had about him were filthy, lusty, dirty little vacations. However, as fun as these times were, it made times like these awkward at first as she tried to decipher the reality of him being here from that time in her dream when she had unzipped his pants with her teeth.