It was /amazing/ how Ace could go from lascivious approval to serious discussion in about half a second, she thought. That little voice inside whispered that she preferred the lascivious approval. She squashed it, the same way she squashed the way his backing away hurt. Collecting her keys and purse, she shut the door and headed out, resolving not to think about Ace all night.
Ace’s night compared to his evening was such a welcomed… shift.
So much better than playing dress-up with Summer, instead snagging shots from his own customers when their backs were turned in-between pouring lines left and right.
It took a lot for Ace to forget, even if for the time being, this was true. But sometimes if he pushed just hard enough, his train of thought derailed.
Didn’t take much to do so that night – just a little bit of the sauce and the lad was properly on his way.
Summer left the door open when she got home. It wasn’t even out of concern for the heat; it was shock, habit, forgetfulness — one of those. She just stood there, in the doorway, for a long time, staring into the dark, arms limp at her sides.
Who did that? Invited their girlfriend to meet their parents and then later that night told her he wanted to take a break? She couldn’t even make herself take another step into her apartment, too many memories mocking her from the corners. Finally she stepped back, and back, and sat down on the steps, head in her hands, and only then realised she was crying.