open to: @bashdecker. location: in bash’s truck, on the way to cascade county fair.
Comfort wasn’t the word she’d use to describe her time with Bash. No, she’d go with easy. Simple. At times frustrating but still worthwhile. Though she’d never openly admit that to him. Perhaps only in passing and drenched with a teasing nature between friends that often teeter the line between platonic and romantic. It’s good fun, really, the back and forth. Despite any hurt feelings that Lorianne harbors (or, better yet, smothers) deep within the depths of her being. The fun often trumps those feelings, by some miracle, leaving them once again within that liberating but tedious grey area.
Her bags are in the backseat, all packed up after staying with Bash for about a week. This was a common occurrence. Even as empty as his large home was, they found ways to fill the time. Looking toward the sunset, talking around the fire, or jumping into freezing lakes. Lori looks out the window, her leg hoisted up onto the seat, one hand holding onto her cowboy boot. From the corner of her eye, she catches his expression, a teasing smile spreading across her lips at the sight. “I know that look. You’re about to ask me a question. Spit it out, Bash.”
