#amelia.

Tommy stepped into the quiet apartment, the soft glow of the kitchen light cutting through the evening shadows. The tension from the day still lingered in her shoulders, but the smell of takeout and the sound of Cassidy humming in the next room made it easier to breathe. She shrugged off her coat, letting it fall onto the worn armchair by the door, and followed the humming towards the kitchen.

She shrugged off her top and pants, leaving them in a heap by the door. All she needed was Cassidy, and the promise of a comforting night. Without hesitation, Tommy walked up behind her girlfriend, reached out, and pulled her into a close embrace. The scent of spices and Cassidy's soap swirled around her, a comforting blanket against the day's harshness.

"Okay, next question," Amelia says, sipping her smoothie from a food truck, "are you a pizza purist, like you can only eat it plain or are you good with toppings? Is pineapple acceptable or a cardinal sin?" She glances up at Beau with an amused expression, shifting aside for some folks as they walk through the arts fest together. A mutual friend pushed her out a few weeks ago and there they were again, several "dates" on. It's not really a date, though. Amelia's just grown more comfortable with the idea of spending time around someone who doesn't know all the details of her past. Because at least he's not looking at her like she might have a mental breakdown anytime soon (though it never feels entirely out of the question). "And are you a fold-down-the-middle type of guy or is that controversial? I know it's potentially inflammatory language." Amelia snickers, looking over at Beau as she takes another sip "I bet you didn't expect me to ask such hard hitting questions so soon." @secrettyrant