It wasn't, Eric snapped. Amber wish she could be reassured; he'd been on the defense since the moment Shanelle came in and for all she knew, he was exaggerating how little they'd cared about each other. Shanelle had commented that he'd never liked sharing... that was pretty true. Amber had forced out of him the information about his brother and he'd clammed up about his mom. Miserably Amber accepted her tray; she was more or less at the same level as Shanelle, only with more of Eric's stuff in her apartment. What did she care about his possessions? They were only things, not even that personal. If they never saw each other again, he wouldn't cry to loose his precious deodorant and razor blades. At least, Amber hoped not.
Eric had stalked off to a table, not looking back or giving any other indication of inviting her. For a moment Amber hesitated, trying to interpret his wordless messages. Were they fighting badly enough not to eat together? The meal wouldn't be any good with this stony, sullen silence. But she hadn't ordered to eat alone. She’d have gone home for that.
Regardless of what he'd wanted, Amber followed and dumped her tray on the table. The way Eric stared down at his meal, Amber wasn't sure if he wanted her there. Great. She'd gotten jealous for no reason other than being faced with the Ghost of Girlfriend Past, and now he was justifiable pissed. And they'd finally gotten past his bad mood.
They shouldn't talk. Ever. Just fuck.
It was Amber's turn to stare at her food. Even as tired and cranky as she was, she didn't feel like eating, not with this stupid thing between them. God, she'd played such the loser today. Not one thing had turned out right. She'd lost the wrestling match, he hadn't gotten hard even though they were all over each other, then they'd fought about their families, and she'd been an abject failure at basketball, needing to invent points to save face--
This day sucked. A lot. They could fuck away this round of bitterness too, but what good would that do? They'd just fight. Again. Amber lowered her face, embarrassed and awkward and wishing she were anywhere else. Her hands curled in her lap. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I just--" There was no excuse. "I was being stupid." Couldn't help myself, she didn't add. She could save herself some pride.
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Eric had stalked off to a table, not looking back or giving any other indication of inviting her. For a moment Amber hesitated, trying to interpret his wordless messages. Were they fighting badly enough not to eat together? The meal wouldn't be any good with this stony, sullen silence. But she hadn't ordered to eat alone. She’d have gone home for that.
Regardless of what he'd wanted, Amber followed and dumped her tray on the table. The way Eric stared down at his meal, Amber wasn't sure if he wanted her there. Great. She'd gotten jealous for no reason other than being faced with the Ghost of Girlfriend Past, and now he was justifiable pissed. And they'd finally gotten past his bad mood.
They shouldn't talk. Ever. Just fuck.
It was Amber's turn to stare at her food. Even as tired and cranky as she was, she didn't feel like eating, not with this stupid thing between them. God, she'd played such the loser today. Not one thing had turned out right. She'd lost the wrestling match, he hadn't gotten hard even though they were all over each other, then they'd fought about their families, and she'd been an abject failure at basketball, needing to invent points to save face--
This day sucked. A lot. They could fuck away this round of bitterness too, but what good would that do? They'd just fight. Again. Amber lowered her face, embarrassed and awkward and wishing she were anywhere else. Her hands curled in her lap. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I just--" There was no excuse. "I was being stupid." Couldn't help myself, she didn't add. She could save herself some pride.