Suicide was beginning to look like the only possible option. Amber's voice dropped to arctic, and referring to him in the third person couldn't possibly be good. What the fuck was wrong with being confident? With knowing he was attractive? Amber played on that herself often enough--Jesus, she'd been showing off for the guys on the basketball court not half an hour ago, and now she was judging him for daring to pick up women when he was single? She was in a damn relationship, with him, and she was still flirting with every guy that walked by.
Foreman nodded tightly, hoping it would confirm that he wasn't interested in hearing all the old news. When had he and Shanelle every really talked, anyway? She hadn't been interested and he hadn't been forthcoming. Wendy had tried to drag his thoughts and feelings out of him, and with Amber, Foreman was starting to realize that he wanted her to know. He and Shanelle had connected enough in bed, and they'd had some good conversations, but that didn't mean that twelve months later they needed to have a chat.
Of fucking course Amber invited her to keep talking. Frustration roiled in his stomach. "Not that much," he said tightly. Shanelle might take it as an insult, but what did he care? They hadn't spoken for a year, and they'd both been sure it was over. A chance meeting in a coffee shop wasn't going to change that.
Shanelle raised her eyebrows, but she evidently agreed. If she'd seen the stormy weather on Amber's face, maybe she'd realized exactly how far she'd pushed this. "You never did like sharing," she said, probably the first serious thing she'd said since she'd shown up. Her smile turned a little less goading and more sincerely friendly. "I'm the one who's in the way. Mind if I just--?" She slipped past them, on Amber's side, to where the people ahead of them in line had just taken their food. "Large coffee, cream and sugar, to go," she said to the barista, and smiled over her shoulder at them, the joke firmly back in place. "We'll have to do this again, Eric. Another year, okay?"
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Foreman nodded tightly, hoping it would confirm that he wasn't interested in hearing all the old news. When had he and Shanelle every really talked, anyway? She hadn't been interested and he hadn't been forthcoming. Wendy had tried to drag his thoughts and feelings out of him, and with Amber, Foreman was starting to realize that he wanted her to know. He and Shanelle had connected enough in bed, and they'd had some good conversations, but that didn't mean that twelve months later they needed to have a chat.
Of fucking course Amber invited her to keep talking. Frustration roiled in his stomach. "Not that much," he said tightly. Shanelle might take it as an insult, but what did he care? They hadn't spoken for a year, and they'd both been sure it was over. A chance meeting in a coffee shop wasn't going to change that.
Shanelle raised her eyebrows, but she evidently agreed. If she'd seen the stormy weather on Amber's face, maybe she'd realized exactly how far she'd pushed this. "You never did like sharing," she said, probably the first serious thing she'd said since she'd shown up. Her smile turned a little less goading and more sincerely friendly. "I'm the one who's in the way. Mind if I just--?" She slipped past them, on Amber's side, to where the people ahead of them in line had just taken their food. "Large coffee, cream and sugar, to go," she said to the barista, and smiled over her shoulder at them, the joke firmly back in place. "We'll have to do this again, Eric. Another year, okay?"