you need to chill, sarah had said. you need one to calm the whirlwind inside inside your head. also, to pull out that stick that’s lodged so far up your arse. because that’s undoubtedly what sarah manning means by: you need to chill, despite trying to be somewhat civil about it. beth knows she shouldn’t be doing this. it’s too soon, the need is still too present. and the fear that chilling, as sarah phrased it, is crippling, foreseeing her spiralling back into old habits. yet here she is – with company and whiskey on the rocks. ‘ i can’t. i – i shouldn’t. —– this is a terrible idea. ‘ fuck sarah manning, and fuck her low resistance to sarah manning’s obstinacy.
although they were finally here, sarah could still feel the tension coming off of beth in waves. it was also quite obvious by her words, insisting that this was still a terrible idea. hopefully that whiskey will solve it. sarah sat on the opposite side of the table, slouching in her seat in a way that would make the queen scowl, bringing her own drink to her lips. sarah didn’t have much for money, so while she’d prefer something harder, she stuck with beer. it was cheap. ❝ d’you wanna tell me why it’s such a terrible idea? ‘cause out of all the ideas i’ve come up with, i wouldn’t say this is one of my terrible ones. ❞
areudirty
izzy806
dededos
blakekathryn
origamiaround
2087
jacobvanloon
jbbartram-illu
