Amber waited for Eric to cozy up to her-- maybe an arm around her shoulder or her waist, maybe slouching a bit further down the couch and into her. He'd been happy enough to hug and kiss at Micky's, and here was so much better. More intimate.
But if anything he grew more rigid the further she sunk into him, tensing like he was being lambasted by a peer review. His breaths became shorter and sharper and his arm was still and awkward between them. He didn't even reply to her comments about movies! Sure watching hockey players crash into each other was riveting, but Amber knew he wasn't ignoring her because of the game. The resentment practically radiated from him in waves.
Amber sighed. She had an idea of what this was about. She twisted around, legs staying in place and her arm resting over the top of the couch. Eric looked every bit as sullen as he'd felt. "Sorry," she said. This wasn't like their fight over Casey's treatment, where she was sure she was right and he was an arrogant prick. Amber knew just how confusing she was being this evening since she herself had no idea what to expect. "I don't mean to be giving mixed signs, I'm just--" she paused. What was she doing? "I wanted to go back to how were at Micky's," she concluded, since that much was true. Her wine, mostly undrunk, sloshed in her goblet as she waved her hand slightly. “I’m figuring this out as we go along, I swear.” It’d been too much of a surprise, walking into a scenario with Eric lying down; if they had eased into it, she’d probably have been more than happy.
But how could she tell him what she wanted and was feeling if she didn’t really know herself? “I’m not used to taking it slow,” she admitted unhappily. That had been one of the good things about Eric, how he was okay with waiting out her confusion. He’d let her stay that night she was thrown out of the mood, and he’d stuck out her crying fit after calling her baby. He’d better not have run out of patience, because where would that leave them?
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But if anything he grew more rigid the further she sunk into him, tensing like he was being lambasted by a peer review. His breaths became shorter and sharper and his arm was still and awkward between them. He didn't even reply to her comments about movies! Sure watching hockey players crash into each other was riveting, but Amber knew he wasn't ignoring her because of the game. The resentment practically radiated from him in waves.
Amber sighed. She had an idea of what this was about. She twisted around, legs staying in place and her arm resting over the top of the couch. Eric looked every bit as sullen as he'd felt. "Sorry," she said. This wasn't like their fight over Casey's treatment, where she was sure she was right and he was an arrogant prick. Amber knew just how confusing she was being this evening since she herself had no idea what to expect. "I don't mean to be giving mixed signs, I'm just--" she paused. What was she doing? "I wanted to go back to how were at Micky's," she concluded, since that much was true. Her wine, mostly undrunk, sloshed in her goblet as she waved her hand slightly. “I’m figuring this out as we go along, I swear.” It’d been too much of a surprise, walking into a scenario with Eric lying down; if they had eased into it, she’d probably have been more than happy.
But how could she tell him what she wanted and was feeling if she didn’t really know herself? “I’m not used to taking it slow,” she admitted unhappily. That had been one of the good things about Eric, how he was okay with waiting out her confusion. He’d let her stay that night she was thrown out of the mood, and he’d stuck out her crying fit after calling her baby. He’d better not have run out of patience, because where would that leave them?