R(oger) (deadiseasy) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-04-19 23:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, r, tiffany maxwell |
Who: Tiffany and R.
When: Friday (April 12).
Where: A bar.
What: Getting those drinks finally.
Warnings/Ratings: PG13 for some grinding, some drinking, and implied post-drink plans.
Status: Complete.
When it came to drinking, Tiffany didn’t, as they say, eff around. A lot of people found it hot, some found it intimidating, and a few found it worrisome. Tiffany, strangely enough, fell into the last category, but not enough that keep her from ordering double vodkas straight off the bat. Not once she was in the bar, anyway. The morning after, it might be another story...
She pulled off her coat to reveal a short, blousey black dress over tight black leggings. The bar itself was a place far from her house, just to be safe. She didn’t like drinking close to home.
Roger was definitely more of the social drinker. He’d never really ever gotten drunk enough to swear the next morning he’d never drink again, but his years at university had taught him, at least, how to hold his alcohol well enough. And he’d made an effort this time around to dress a bit better - though, admittedly, he spent a long time trying to decide what Tiffany might deem decent.
Settling on jeans and a suit jacket, he made his way to the bar of her choice, greeting her once he got there.
“Hey,” he said, “it’s been a while.”
Tiffany looked up at him and smiled one of her rarely bestowed smiles. A quick glance up and down and her smile widened. Roger looked good tonight, balanced between dressed up and casual. It was a look she really liked on a guy.
“I know, right?” She gestured to the stool beside her. “Have a seat. What are you drinking? I’m buying. The first round, at least. No arguing.”
“Well, if you insist.” Roger laughed a bit and sat down. “Uh. I’ll do a Sam Adams, I think, actually. Yeah, that sounds good.”
"Good choice," Tiffany said. As beers went. The bartender poured a glass from the tap and Tiffany made sure it was put on her tab.
“Thanks,” he said, once he got the beer. He took a generous sip of it and watched her. “So. How have you been? Your sister isn’t getting under your skin too much, is she?”
“Nah,” Tiffany waved her hand. To some extent, she was lying. Her sister constantly got under her skin. They were just too damn different. But she didn’t want to complain constantly. “I think it will be good when she finally moves out, you know? We need some space. Yeah... she’s engaged, actually.”
“I couldn’t imagine have a sibling, you know,” he said, shrugging. “It’d be weird. But at least if she’s engaged, then eventually you’ll have plenty of space away from her, so cheers to that.” Roger cracked a bit of a grin.
Tiffany flexed her thin brows. “Yeah, hopefully.” She lifted her drink. “Did you ever want a sibling? Or now are you worried you’d eat them, Mr. Zombie?”
“I don’t know. I used to think having a younger brother might be cool, but I don’t know how that would work out. So I’m glad it’s just me.” Roger laughed, though.
“You’re the second person who’s asked me about eating people. I really, really hope I don’t start cannibalizing people. Really.”
“You hope?” Tiffany laughed, a little boisterously as she was already feeling her drink. “You’re not determined not to or would kill yourself first? Should I hope I don’t get eaten?”
Roger laughed, putting his face in his hand.
“That’s not what I meant!” he insisted, trying backtrack his words. “I do not want to eat people. Ever. At all. You know what I meant!”
Tiffany smirked. She lifted her glass to her lips again and let it hover there before drinking. “Why the hell am I not dreaming?” she asked, as if Roger really knew the answer. “I mean, the dreams everyone else gets. What gives? I feel left out.”
The laughing dying down, he shrugged a bit, taking a sip of his beer.
“Who knows? It seems to just happen ... Randomly. And some people have really shitty dreams.” Some of the things he read on the net made him almost happy he was dreaming about being a zombie and not sharing their dreams. “What would you want to dream about?”
Tiffany considered this for a moment. A smile touched her eyes. “I’d like to dream about being on Dancing with the Stars. Only, I’m not a celebrity. I’ll be one of the trainers.” She’d been taking dance classes to keep herself sane, as she like to put it.
“Really?” His eyebrows went up, but he leaned in, looking interested. “So, you dance, then? That’s cool. I’ve never had any rhythm ever, so I envy people that know that they’re doing.”
“You’d know what you were doing if you took a class,” Tiffany said in reply. She looked excited. “I didn’t know what I was doing until I started.”
“No, I don’t think I would. But thanks for the vote of confidence.” He looked amused, but he enjoyed her enthusiasm about it. “You look like you’d be good at it.”
Tiffany frowned ever so slightly. It wasn’t that she expected him to jump at the chance of learning how to dance, but it would have been cool if he was a little more into the idea. He’d sort of brushed it off. “What, did you have a really sucky prom or something?”
Roger just was never very good at picking up subtleties like that. He was, however, expecting her to in some way manage to convince him, because she was just that sort of person. And he sort of liked that.
“Nah,” he shrugged, “it was fine. I just, you know, don’t know my right foot from my left.”
She lowered her eyes to the floor to glance down at his feet. Without saying anything just yet, she glanced over her shoulder, where there was a dance floor. It was small and no one was using it, but it was available nonetheless.
Placing what was left of her drink on the bar, she grabbed Roger’s hand a hopped up. “Come on,” she said, as she started to drag him toward the juke box.
"Huh?" He blinked, following her. "Oh. Oh no, no -" But he couldn't help laughing anyway. At least there weren't many people to embarrass himself in front of. "Wait til I get I to say I told you so."
“I don’t care,” Tiffany replied. She fished a dollar out of her pocket and fed it to the machine. A few button taps later, T-Rex’s Mambo Sun began to play through the sound system. A woman of very few inhibitions, she turned and immediately hooked one of her arms around Roger’s neck, and pulling him close, she began to swing her hips from side to side against him.
He could only blink, reaching to put his arms around her (hopefully not too awkwardly). Roger could feel the blush coming to his cheeks, and while he was glad it was just swaying, it was hip swaying, which was definitely nowhere near his comfort zone.
“Ah - All right, then,” he conceded. Clearly there was no winning this battle.
He was awkward and stiff, but the point was that he was humoring her. Maybe he’d only let her get away with this just once and she kept that in mind as she seized the opportunity. Tiffany wasn’t the best dancer in the world, but it never crossed her mind to worry about about looking silly, with or without alcohol involved. So she danced close and she rolled her hips like she meant it.
There came a point, and, honestly, he figured it was probably the embarrassment of it, that he couldn’t help but laugh. But he was having a good time, and that sort of made it easier to handle.
“I can tell you’re going to be pushing my boundaries a lot, aren’t you?”
It seemed as if Tiffany didn’t hear him. She continued to dance, nothing changing. Then she replied, “I push everyone’s boundaries.” And the way she said it, there was a certain sadness to her voice. But she still didn’t stop dancing, not until the song was over.
“I think I could get used to it,” he replied, hoping to maybe cheer up whatever bit of sadness he accidentally brought to the surface. When the stopped dancing, he gave her a smile, then laughed and ducked his head a bit.
“That was definitely the first time I’ve ever danced in a bar.”
“Well, you should do it more often and you’ll get better at it,” she said, still a little cold. Her mood could change like that. Right now, she was concerned that she scared Roger. Not worried. She just wanted to clarify things. “I like you. Do you like me?” she asked, very suddenly.
The suddenness of the question caught him off guard. He blinked and then nodded.
“Yeah - Of course. I mean. From the little we’ve, you know, spent together. But yeah. I do.”
Tiffany nodded. “So, if I were to ask you wanted to get out of here and go back to my house, what would you say?” She looked very serious.
“I would say yes, let’s get out of here. And go do that.” Nobody had ever been so straightforward with him before, but he was slowly getting used to Tiffany’s style of approaching things. “Yes. Absolutely.”
Her eyes lit back up, though she wasn’t sure if she was impressed or... startled. To be honest, she hadn’t expect him to say yes. She hadn’t ruled out that Roger was a choirboy, yet. “Okay,” she said, starting to grin. “Let’s go.” Forget their drinks. She could make drinks back at her place. Better drinks.
“I live in what was my parents’ old garage. They said I could live there if I fixed it up and I called their bluff. There’s absolutely no chance of anyone walking in on us.”
It wasn’t necessarily the sort of thing Roger did. But he figured that he was still young and he should try to take advantage of life more, and maybe stop being so shy and awkward. And he had a feeling that you only ever said no to Tiffany once.
“Sounds great,” he said. He even meant it, too.
It wasn’t the first time Tiffany had invited someone back to her “apartment”, but her heart started to pound anyway. There was always this little voice in the back of her mind, telling her that she was probably doing something stupid. She told the voice to shut up. Taking Roger home meant she was taking back a nice guy, for once.
The air outside was warm and thick. She hugged herself anyway. “Are you good to drive?” she asked.
“Yeah, totally.” He gave her a smile and led the way to his car, where he even held open the door for her. “Just tell me where we’re going and I’ll get us there, no sweat.”
“I don’t live far.”