Foreman wasn't sure what to make of Amber's response. She leaned back into him, and turned to press her cheek against his, her hands holding his in place over her stomach for a moment. But her words were dismissive, and again, she was the one to step away, to change the focus and the subject of conversation. She was backing away from him. Foreman didn't think she was still angry. If she was, she'd make sure he knew it. But her withdrawal confused him, because it was the first he'd seen of it. He didn't know what was making her pull back, or even if he was right that she was pulling back. Maybe she was casual because this was casual to her. Something else she had experience with that Foreman didn't. At this rate, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be 'just starting'. Finding out how vanilla he'd been without knowing it wasn't exactly on his list of breathlessly anticipated life experiences. All the accusations he'd heard--mostly from House--about being boring echoed in his mind, and he wondered if that's what Amber thought. That initiating him didn't really touch her or affect her because she'd done it all before. 'Wow' could be nothing more than an empty compliment she expected him to want.
Foreman looked down to fasten his pants, then picked up his wallet and returned it to his back pocket. Amber had sounded genuine. Or she had, right up until she'd slipped out of his arms. Much as Amber wanted--or had appeared to want--honesty, Foreman wasn't comfortable asking her what was going on. If he was right, and it was some fault of his, he wasn't interested in hearing it. Stiffly, he faced the mirror to knot his tie, before pulling on his suit jacket. Other than a few wrinkles in his dress shirt, there wasn't any evidence of what they'd done. His reflection looked back at him seriously, and Foreman tried to shrug his mood away. Amber hadn't done anything or said anything that should start him thinking like this. She wanted to dress quickly and get back to their table before someone walked into the bathroom, and Foreman should be just as eager to get back to normal. No one had caught them yet, as unbelievable as that seemed, and he wanted to keep it that way.
"You want me to sneak out first?" he asked, offering Amber a quick grin. A few worries aside, he felt more than good, and the fact that they'd gotten away with this stunt left him feeling smug. "I'll knock if the coast is clear."
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Foreman looked down to fasten his pants, then picked up his wallet and returned it to his back pocket. Amber had sounded genuine. Or she had, right up until she'd slipped out of his arms. Much as Amber wanted--or had appeared to want--honesty, Foreman wasn't comfortable asking her what was going on. If he was right, and it was some fault of his, he wasn't interested in hearing it. Stiffly, he faced the mirror to knot his tie, before pulling on his suit jacket. Other than a few wrinkles in his dress shirt, there wasn't any evidence of what they'd done. His reflection looked back at him seriously, and Foreman tried to shrug his mood away. Amber hadn't done anything or said anything that should start him thinking like this. She wanted to dress quickly and get back to their table before someone walked into the bathroom, and Foreman should be just as eager to get back to normal. No one had caught them yet, as unbelievable as that seemed, and he wanted to keep it that way.
"You want me to sneak out first?" he asked, offering Amber a quick grin. A few worries aside, he felt more than good, and the fact that they'd gotten away with this stunt left him feeling smug. "I'll knock if the coast is clear."