"Not on TV," Foreman answered, shifting his weight against the cushions to get comfortable. He liked getting his news in soundbites, and beyond that, he usually turned the television off or popped in a DVD if he wanted to spend a particularly mindless evening. He grinned when he heard the pop of the cork from the kitchen, and looked over his shoulder as Amber came into the living room.
Her amused exasperation was obvious as soon as she saw him, breaking off her sentence. Foreman gave her his most engaging, wheedling, eager smile, showing off that he had nothing to hide and that she had nothing to lose. Cuddling on the couch wasn't exactly the precursor to a sex marathon. She'd been at least that close in the booth at Mickey's, her whole body pressed against him and easing closer with every fresh detail that spilled out about that girl she'd met. The one whose room Amber had gone back to...
But he'd interrupted that story, and it looked like this was his punishment. Amber scrunched all the way at the far end of the couch, not even fighting for her own share of the real estate. Made Foreman feel like kind of a heel, to be taking up most of the space. After all the stories Amber had told about life with two brothers, bickering for supremacy, he'd thought that she'd shove him into place and then settle on the couch like a queen on her throne. It left him second-guessing himself, wondering if he'd made her uncomfortable, again. He accepted the glass of wine, sitting up as he did so, returning her sceptical eyebrow raise with his own. She was right, it would be awkward, and he'd rather not stain his sweater if he could help it.
His eyes flicked to the television, but there was nothing immediately attention-grabbing. Amber had picked CNN--to placate him?--but since Foreman couldn't devote his full attention to it, and didn't want to, he wasn't actually getting anything out of it. He took a sip of his wine. It was very nice, and he nodded to himself at the quality. "Action movies?" he asked, picking up on what Amber had been saying as she came into the room. "Like what?"
no subject
Her amused exasperation was obvious as soon as she saw him, breaking off her sentence. Foreman gave her his most engaging, wheedling, eager smile, showing off that he had nothing to hide and that she had nothing to lose. Cuddling on the couch wasn't exactly the precursor to a sex marathon. She'd been at least that close in the booth at Mickey's, her whole body pressed against him and easing closer with every fresh detail that spilled out about that girl she'd met. The one whose room Amber had gone back to...
But he'd interrupted that story, and it looked like this was his punishment. Amber scrunched all the way at the far end of the couch, not even fighting for her own share of the real estate. Made Foreman feel like kind of a heel, to be taking up most of the space. After all the stories Amber had told about life with two brothers, bickering for supremacy, he'd thought that she'd shove him into place and then settle on the couch like a queen on her throne. It left him second-guessing himself, wondering if he'd made her uncomfortable, again. He accepted the glass of wine, sitting up as he did so, returning her sceptical eyebrow raise with his own. She was right, it would be awkward, and he'd rather not stain his sweater if he could help it.
His eyes flicked to the television, but there was nothing immediately attention-grabbing. Amber had picked CNN--to placate him?--but since Foreman couldn't devote his full attention to it, and didn't want to, he wasn't actually getting anything out of it. He took a sip of his wine. It was very nice, and he nodded to himself at the quality. "Action movies?" he asked, picking up on what Amber had been saying as she came into the room. "Like what?"