The bread was thick and crunchy, not yet moist from the sandwich's contents. The chicken slices were a good size, enough to chew on but not to stuff up her mouth; the thin celery bits were crisp and fresh. Amber supposed the food might taste good but it all came out as bland in her mouth, unappealing and instantly forgettable. Even the coffee left no impression on her.
She kept on eating, though; the first swallow was ravenously received by her stomach, clamoring for more. Once she started, she couldn't have stopped herself. Everything might taste of sawdust, but her head felt more balanced, less fragile.
But even as her hunger lessened, Amber could not get her mind off Shanelle and her knowing smirk, as if she were imagining Eric naked and knew precisely how to fill in the details. She was shorter, but maybe he liked that, made him feel manly to bend his face down to capture her lips; lift her off the ground to squeeze her against his body—of course Shanelle looked fantastic, in this and all the other images running through Amber’s mind.
For the most part, Amber kept to herself. She heard Eric chewing and then sipping at an unhurried pace. Hopefully he'd get more out of his meal than her, with or without her glowering. What wonderful company she provided.
The abruptness of his words startled her, making her look up quickly. Amber almost laughed: soup as a token of peace. She didn't know which was sadder, the fact that he'd offered it, his casualness in no way hiding how anxious he was for the bait to work, or that he'd needed to in the first place. The latter won, Amber decided; he'd only had to stoop so low because of her. "Soup won't make everything better," she chided-- and accepted the spoon anyway, fingertips brushing against his as she took hold of the metal. Her other hand cupped beneath the traveling spoonful, Amber brought the corn chowder to her mouth; it had more flavor than anything else she'd tried this meal.
"Thanks," she said after swallowing, returning the spoon. Then, "I know we're both on edge and I don't know what to do." Because it was the truth and maybe by admitting it, he could suggest something-- Amber just hoped he wouldn't be patronizing. But Eric did have more experience in this field, maybe he knew how to smooth down rough spots like these. Or was that food-sharing bit the most effective tool he had at hand? It'd probably have worked on Shanelle, who'd have just laughed all this off; wouldn't have bothered with jealousy.
"I just keep thinking about her," Amber blurted out, "and other women you've been with, and I keep comparing--" Stopped there, pressing her lips together and freezing her expression cold.
no subject
She kept on eating, though; the first swallow was ravenously received by her stomach, clamoring for more. Once she started, she couldn't have stopped herself. Everything might taste of sawdust, but her head felt more balanced, less fragile.
But even as her hunger lessened, Amber could not get her mind off Shanelle and her knowing smirk, as if she were imagining Eric naked and knew precisely how to fill in the details. She was shorter, but maybe he liked that, made him feel manly to bend his face down to capture her lips; lift her off the ground to squeeze her against his body—of course Shanelle looked fantastic, in this and all the other images running through Amber’s mind.
For the most part, Amber kept to herself. She heard Eric chewing and then sipping at an unhurried pace. Hopefully he'd get more out of his meal than her, with or without her glowering. What wonderful company she provided.
The abruptness of his words startled her, making her look up quickly. Amber almost laughed: soup as a token of peace. She didn't know which was sadder, the fact that he'd offered it, his casualness in no way hiding how anxious he was for the bait to work, or that he'd needed to in the first place. The latter won, Amber decided; he'd only had to stoop so low because of her. "Soup won't make everything better," she chided-- and accepted the spoon anyway, fingertips brushing against his as she took hold of the metal. Her other hand cupped beneath the traveling spoonful, Amber brought the corn chowder to her mouth; it had more flavor than anything else she'd tried this meal.
"Thanks," she said after swallowing, returning the spoon. Then, "I know we're both on edge and I don't know what to do." Because it was the truth and maybe by admitting it, he could suggest something-- Amber just hoped he wouldn't be patronizing. But Eric did have more experience in this field, maybe he knew how to smooth down rough spots like these. Or was that food-sharing bit the most effective tool he had at hand? It'd probably have worked on Shanelle, who'd have just laughed all this off; wouldn't have bothered with jealousy.
"I just keep thinking about her," Amber blurted out, "and other women you've been with, and I keep comparing--" Stopped there, pressing her lips together and freezing her expression cold.