Oh, darling, if I ever cross your mind
“Right. Not unbothered.” Thorn murmurs, taking the correction despite the small smile that tries to bloom on his face of encouragement despite the roughness of his words. He isn’t trying to be mean, he’s just trying to offer alternatives for her to hopefully not get hurt again. He remembers that night at the House of Midnight when he’d learned how to line dance, remembers the reaction she had when a certain song came on.
But she presses into the couch and he peers down at her with a nod. “’Cause I’m your best friend. Duh.” He titters like it’s obvious and settles in to tell her that she should just ask him – and maybe it’s because in his line of work everything is understood at the door. They could pretend to do whatever within the room, but the understanding was explained and agreed upon before diving into it. There weren’t questions, and if there were, there were ways to stop it to ensure it wasn’t getting out of hand.
Something he should have probably figured out with his last relationship. But he’s blissfully single as he watches her spiral about the shadowy demigod until all of the wind has come out of her sails. And when she straightens, she snags the beer and finishes it, and Thorn settles back in the couch cushions for a minute before he stretches out like a cat – shirt rising and leaving more of those floral, vine tattoos on display curling around the sharp jut of his hips.
“Haha, we totally should.” He laughs a warm sound, sighing on the exhale before he stands and makes a show of it in the process. “Unfortunately, I’ve gotta be the face of the House when the Waterboy’s flauntin’ his region.” His hand comes up to wave it off, before he glances toward the door. “I wanna smoke, you comin’ with?” He asks, hooking his thumb toward the front door where her porch sits so he can have a smoke.
But she presses into the couch and he peers down at her with a nod. “’Cause I’m your best friend. Duh.” He titters like it’s obvious and settles in to tell her that she should just ask him – and maybe it’s because in his line of work everything is understood at the door. They could pretend to do whatever within the room, but the understanding was explained and agreed upon before diving into it. There weren’t questions, and if there were, there were ways to stop it to ensure it wasn’t getting out of hand.
Something he should have probably figured out with his last relationship. But he’s blissfully single as he watches her spiral about the shadowy demigod until all of the wind has come out of her sails. And when she straightens, she snags the beer and finishes it, and Thorn settles back in the couch cushions for a minute before he stretches out like a cat – shirt rising and leaving more of those floral, vine tattoos on display curling around the sharp jut of his hips.
“Haha, we totally should.” He laughs a warm sound, sighing on the exhale before he stands and makes a show of it in the process. “Unfortunately, I’ve gotta be the face of the House when the Waterboy’s flauntin’ his region.” His hand comes up to wave it off, before he glances toward the door. “I wanna smoke, you comin’ with?” He asks, hooking his thumb toward the front door where her porch sits so he can have a smoke.
Hawthorn
Won't you let me know?
