Who: Peter Vincent, Ginger What: Going out for drinks, a little talking, and trying to let things happen Where: A bar in Lawrence When: Monday night, October 28, 2013 Warnings: Language, feels, drinking, and kisses Status: Closed, Complete!
He just wanted a distraction. Something physical and uncomplicated and lacking repercussions, because it seemed like no matter what he did or said, he was fucking up somehow. Flirting with Ginger was fun, and familiar, and comforting. But now she wanted to talk about what it meant. It wasn't exactly an unreasonable request, given their history, for her to wonder where that flirting might lead. The way she'd worded her question, though, asking if it was a bad idea? He didn't want to think about pros and cons and whys and why nots - that was all he did anymore and it was driving him mad. He'd (rather sloppily) evaded the question, and he was pretty sure he'd hurt her feelings, or something. Though perhaps not, since she'd swiftly agreed to a night out.
So now they were sitting at a bar, and Peter was trying very hard to focus on his drink while watching her. Every now and then that little guilty feeling came slinking in again, prodding at him to apologise or something, but he pushed it back. He wasn't here to wrestle with himself and overthink everything, he was just here to get drunk with one of his best friends.
"Did you want it back the way it was?"
Or, he could fail to ignore the issue and bring it up himself. He didn't even fucking know anymore. He couldn't look at her, and took a long slow sip of his cocktail while he waited for her to answer.