dex isn’t used to being indulged like this, that much is clear. even if it’s just a slice, or however steph put it. leaving the confines of his apartment, venturing beyond the bodega downstairs - it’s a foreign experience. he’s never been lured by pineapple pizza before, but it’s steph, and he won’t question it - and it’s better than he thought it’d be, anyway. Â
it’d ruin things considerably if he let on just how tense he is, just how watched he feels and just how on edge he’s being. but when he knocks over his glass of coke without thinking he sighs, quickly wiping up his mess with compostable napkins, irritably pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. great.
‘ maybe i should just go back to my place, ’ he says when he throws out the napkins, unaware that he’s causing a scene. it’s a mess, their whole table, sugary coca-cola spilled everywhere, sticking to his fingers. it makes his heart race, his jaw tense. no, no, he can’t deal with that, not a mess like this. ‘ i’m sorry, for wasting your time -’ / @forhope
