Wrenching the door open, all Amber knew was that she was tired of Eric's pride, of how he turned his back on her when it mattered most. Outrage made her hands flex, compulsively opening then closing so hard it hurt from the strain.
There he was, so small bent over the sink, his head bowed. He hadn't even reopened his jacket or pants, allowing himself no physical relief. What a coward, that even alone he'd rather (supposedly) nobly suffer than accept and give in to his body's needs.
God, why did she like him so much?
Eric flinched when he saw her reflection in the mirror. Something inside her hardened, that he was even more embarrassed because of her, but a bit of satisfaction trilled through her. He should feel guilty. She slammed the door.
Eric spoke with that voice she'd heard too many times in so short a period, with defeat and apology. But his words, they threw her off as she tried to make sense of them. If he meant this bathroom, his statement was redundant: having never been to this restaurant before, of course he'd never have gone into its toilets. If he'd said it in a figurative way, she still didn’t get his point. "What, hiding away in an unlocked bathroom after indecently exposing yourself in public?" Amber asked, purposefully using the harshest wording she could think of. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, not if she wanted him to stop with the humiliation already, but she wanted to throw in his face the worst they'd done, make him realize it hadn't even been anything all that serious.
Amber still had no idea what she meant to do. She was burning up, hotter than even when she'd come, and all of her shook with indignation. She wanted Eric to stop looking like a grievously injured dog; wanted herself to stop feeling so goddamn angry and guilty.
"Don't you dare," she hissed, stepping away from the door slowly, eyes narrowed on Eric. His alarm was crystal clear in the bright lights. She didn't care. Rather, she cared too much. Raising her hands to his face, she cupped his cheeks and whispered fiercely, "Don't you dare run away." And she kissed him. She kissed him with all her fury and frustration, fit to bruise, bearing down her body to trap him against the sink. She'd show him, this could be good. They could be wonderful, if only he'd quit sabotaging them.
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There he was, so small bent over the sink, his head bowed. He hadn't even reopened his jacket or pants, allowing himself no physical relief. What a coward, that even alone he'd rather (supposedly) nobly suffer than accept and give in to his body's needs.
God, why did she like him so much?
Eric flinched when he saw her reflection in the mirror. Something inside her hardened, that he was even more embarrassed because of her, but a bit of satisfaction trilled through her. He should feel guilty. She slammed the door.
Eric spoke with that voice she'd heard too many times in so short a period, with defeat and apology. But his words, they threw her off as she tried to make sense of them. If he meant this bathroom, his statement was redundant: having never been to this restaurant before, of course he'd never have gone into its toilets. If he'd said it in a figurative way, she still didn’t get his point. "What, hiding away in an unlocked bathroom after indecently exposing yourself in public?" Amber asked, purposefully using the harshest wording she could think of. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, not if she wanted him to stop with the humiliation already, but she wanted to throw in his face the worst they'd done, make him realize it hadn't even been anything all that serious.
Amber still had no idea what she meant to do. She was burning up, hotter than even when she'd come, and all of her shook with indignation. She wanted Eric to stop looking like a grievously injured dog; wanted herself to stop feeling so goddamn angry and guilty.
"Don't you dare," she hissed, stepping away from the door slowly, eyes narrowed on Eric. His alarm was crystal clear in the bright lights. She didn't care. Rather, she cared too much. Raising her hands to his face, she cupped his cheeks and whispered fiercely, "Don't you dare run away." And she kissed him. She kissed him with all her fury and frustration, fit to bruise, bearing down her body to trap him against the sink. She'd show him, this could be good. They could be wonderful, if only he'd quit sabotaging them.