Foreman stopped short, standing with his shoulders cocked after drawing the razor across his skin. Amber hadn't simply accepted his invitation; she'd assumed. She'd made her own plan without consulting him. Foreman rinsed off his razor and frowned at his reflection, the sight of the shaving gel prompting him to finish up. It bugged him. He'd offered casually because he didn't want to look like he'd thought too hard about it, but he'd expected her to accept in the same vein. Not making a big deal over it, but understanding that it was...a step. Foreman tossed his razor beside the sink. How the hell did he expect Amber to figure that out if he didn't tell her? God knew they didn't share any kind of telepathy. He grabbed his hand towel and wiped off the last traces of gel, and then rubbed on a hint of aftershave. At this point, there was no way to bring it up without sounding like he was retracting his offer. Hell, he'd gotten what he wanted. Except that the way Amber had presumed made him feel like his place wasn't his to offer, but hers to preempt when she wanted it, and his offer was immaterial. What he wanted--if he'd wanted something different--wouldn't have mattered.
It was the same thing as when he helped Amber with her coat or got the door for her. He did those things as a sort of gift, and Amber immediately wanted to examine the horse's teeth. Foreman wasn't allowed to be gallant, because Amber wasn't interested. She dismissed it, she didn't want it. She looked at him strangely when he tried to show her his regard, his affection. How he wanted to care wasn't important; he was only allowed to care in ways Amber found comfortable. Foreman wasn't trying to have things entirely his own way, but he chafed against the idea of giving up his own methods entirely.
Christ, he sounded like a sophomore girl, getting this tripped up over something so simple. They agreed. That was the end of it. Foreman pushed his discomfort aside. He didn't mind staying at Amber's place at all, especially not if it would give them some privacy. He'd had enough of public appearances--in their last two dates, they'd already had a fight in which Amber walked out on him and a crazy round of public sex. A night in would be safer. "Sounds perfect," he said.
Hanging on the back of his bedroom door was a suit he'd recently had dry-cleaned, still in its garment bag. That would do fine to take to Amber's. Foreman went to his closet and got out two shirts, one for today and one to hang on the hook with his suit. From the dresser, he grabbed a fresh pair of boxers and socks, and started getting dressed. Anything else he'd need was already in his trunk, in his gym bag. It was Tuesday--usually his pick-up game, when he could get off work early. Foreman grinned. Basketball didn't sound half as appealing as the prospect of simply relaxing with Amber. "Way better than playing three-on-three with a bunch of middle-aged guys who think they're still in high school," he said.
no subject
It was the same thing as when he helped Amber with her coat or got the door for her. He did those things as a sort of gift, and Amber immediately wanted to examine the horse's teeth. Foreman wasn't allowed to be gallant, because Amber wasn't interested. She dismissed it, she didn't want it. She looked at him strangely when he tried to show her his regard, his affection. How he wanted to care wasn't important; he was only allowed to care in ways Amber found comfortable. Foreman wasn't trying to have things entirely his own way, but he chafed against the idea of giving up his own methods entirely.
Christ, he sounded like a sophomore girl, getting this tripped up over something so simple. They agreed. That was the end of it. Foreman pushed his discomfort aside. He didn't mind staying at Amber's place at all, especially not if it would give them some privacy. He'd had enough of public appearances--in their last two dates, they'd already had a fight in which Amber walked out on him and a crazy round of public sex. A night in would be safer. "Sounds perfect," he said.
Hanging on the back of his bedroom door was a suit he'd recently had dry-cleaned, still in its garment bag. That would do fine to take to Amber's. Foreman went to his closet and got out two shirts, one for today and one to hang on the hook with his suit. From the dresser, he grabbed a fresh pair of boxers and socks, and started getting dressed. Anything else he'd need was already in his trunk, in his gym bag. It was Tuesday--usually his pick-up game, when he could get off work early. Foreman grinned. Basketball didn't sound half as appealing as the prospect of simply relaxing with Amber. "Way better than playing three-on-three with a bunch of middle-aged guys who think they're still in high school," he said.