He tried to rearrange his face, finally putting all those acting classes to good use as he managed a look of cool neutrality, but it didn't last long. "Oh, come on," he scoffed in earnest, eyes rolling and head going with the motion, shaking back and forth. "Uh-uh, no, don't do that. Don't twist my words into some bullshit I didn't say." Even if maybe -- maybe! -- Annika was just saying the quiet part out loud. "It's not like I actually thought you were a virgin when we first linked up." See? Scott could come up with plenty of dumb bullshit on his own! He shrugged, stubbornly crossed arms unfolding and shoulders relaxing. "You're seeing this guy again, though, right?" he asked, like there was any real point to him knowing. It shouldn't've changed a thing between them, and yet... Scott still stood there frowning at Annika, mutely expressing his big feelings.

lips parted, a subtle indictment of every argument, one after the other, that came to mind with each of scott's rebuttals. "so you're saying that you wouldn't have believed if i'd told you i was a virgin ?" did she care much about the implication ? not necessarily. she hadn't been -- there'd been a few flings in college. nothing serious, nothing mind-blowing. but enough to make her not a virgin. enough to send her farther away from the annika that he'd once known, toward someone worth knowing. ( had he ever really known her back then ? ) "maybe," she breezed over the answer. call it a power trip, but something in edge to his tone stuck a match in her chest. "why ? we aren't dating." neither of them, technically, but she couldn't settle on which argument she'd tried to make. 'i'm not dating this new guy.' 'you and i aren't dating.' regardless, it shone clarity on the same implication: neither of you have claim to me.

brow arches, lips twitching in an effort not to crack a grin, thoroughly entertained by blaire and what he deemed as an overreaction to his state of undress. "uh, everyone? you're saying you're always fully dressed in the bathroom? isn't this meant to be a place of privacy? you're the one who walked right in without so much as a knock." ryan shrugs, not all too bothered by her seeing him. it was bound to happen at least once, living together in such close quarters. "no, i just started working from home on fridays." well, technically he could work remotely full-time if he wanted to, being a stockbroker, but he enjoyed going to the office every now and then. he captures the movement of her eyes, the deliberate trail of them along his frame, and a smirk hitches onto one corner of his lips. "this isn't decent enough for you?" he does a little spin for her, purely to get a reaction out of the girl. it's almost too easy to get on her nerves. "mhm, i would've left if i knew you wanted the place to yourself. but i'm starving and wanna whip up some pancakes." he strides to his bedroom, pulling on a pair of sweats and leaving his upper torso bare, too lazy to rummage for a shirt. "want me to make you some, too?" he asks, exiting the room and moving towards the kitchen.

her thread of logic is there somewhere, buried beneath deepening layers of contempt and frustration. "even my brothers knew how to use the lock. i'm just saying, after i started living with a dude again, i spend as little time undressed as possible." call it the unfortunate consequence of her developmental years crammed into a single bathroom with two boys. no surprises when you're always prepared. he spins, and blaire makes a show of turning her attention to the mirror to twist dark curls up into her clip. "not all of us are such exhibitionists," not her, not here, not with him. especially as she's come to understand the rhythms of his schedule. she'd frankly taken it upon herself to spend as little time in his presence at all, much less in various states of nudity. he stacks offers, one after the other, and blaire can't get a great read on the intentions. it's a peace treaty or an attempt to butter her up, and she's not interested in either. "that's okay, thanks." still, she trails him into the kitchen. makes quiet work with her espresso machine — the stupid-expensive graduation present that she couldn't bear to pawn off, even at her brokest. busies herself with the ritual of grounds and steam and the tiny bit of oat milk left in the fridge. she thinks to offer, if only to prevent his satisfaction from getting too far beneath her skin, when — "do you like coffee ?"

esme watched in silence, if only to take these moments of physical comedy to think. a cruel joke — that's what this had to be, right ? subject her to watch her ex slink into his room with his new girl and stick her with . . . isaac ? it was cruel at worst and comical at best, depending on how much they knew about them. she'd packed and unpacked her bag fifteen times before finally committing to the trip. now, it sat untouched at her feet as she debated stealing the car and driving herself home. he objected, the reflex fast and sharp, and esme crossed her arms, fixing her gaze on the thin veneer of dust on the dresser, the tiny faded stains of something on the carpet, anything but him. she wouldn't meet his eye, not when her vision had begun to go blurry. funny how she could be so stubborn and so thin-skinned at the same time. "only if you're sure with it. really, i can . . ." what ? she'd run out of options to flee now. the butt of the joke, the subject of pity, the animal caught perfectly in a trap. "sorry, i just need to, uh," she didn't wait for an excuse to appear, nor for a response from isaac, as she crossed the tiny space to the washroom. she would not cry. wouldn't give them the satisfaction, wouldn't tangle the situation with isaac with any more of her feelings, wouldn't admit the few hundred bucks she'd blown on this road trip had gone to waste. fingers curled around the edge of the sink, and she willed breathing to slow, to steady, to stave off the rising panic. voice strangled, she managed, "i'm sorry, i'll be out in a sec."

"please get off the floor," esme winced. the rooms were cheap, the sort of cheap that organized a nice little checklist in her brain of what to check, sanitize, and quarantine to a corner before either of them settled in. laying directly on the floor blew past every last one of those check boxes, crumpled up the list, and threw it in the incinerator. maybe to someone who didn't study how awful places like that could be, it would have been a romantic, chivalrous gesture. leave it to isaac to push the limits of what counted as one. "it's fine, we'll just," she paused to peel back sheet from mattress. surprisingly clean, given the state of the rest of the room. "take shifts, maybe ? there's always the chair," wooden, padding-less, and situated ominously in the corner. layered on top of the exhaustion and heartache, guilt rose in her throat ; anyone else could be normal about this. why couldn't they just be normal about this ? "or i can go grab the keys and sleep in the car or something. really, it's fine."

open  starter  : evie  fairchild  &  any  muse.  plot  :  we  only  agreed  to  fake  date  for  convenience  but  now  you’re  actually  flirting  with  someone  else  and  i  don’t  like  how  it  bothers  me

Adam couldn't remember what drink he was on -- third, fourth? No, no, surely it was only his second. Though the way his vision blurred would say otherwise, and the flush of his cheeks was definitely a dead giveaway that he was, in fact, more inebriated than he'd cared to admit. Still, it was a party, right? And if he was to get through the festivities of the evening with his sanity intact, he was definitely going to need more than what he'd already consumed. Besides, what was the point of an open bar? He turned at the sound of her voice. "Your lack of faith in my ability to deliver an amazing speech is astounding," he said in response. "In fact, I already told Patrick the only way I'm doing that speech is with alcohol in my system."

"he's your brother. he has to let you talk. holding him hostage doesn't give me any more faith in you." less faith, actually, the longer her gaze lingered on his features. trailed across flushed skin. examined bleary eyes. jesus, was this dude gonna be able to read off of his phone screen ? "and i swear to god, if mia finds out you're this wasted, she's going to kill me. and that means that i'll have to kill you." a tempting thought, if it didn't mean being relieved of her duties as maid of honor. mia was her drummer for fuck's sake ! if lennon couldn't deliver this one thing, they'd be DOA before they made it out of opening act no man's land. "have you ever even given a speech before ? should i go grab one of the other guys to tap you out ?" or cut him off. or dunk him in the decorative fountain. she wouldn't be picky. "this is the first impression these people are gonna have of all of this, dude. pat and mia don't need you drunk and winging it."