The corner of his mouth curled, invoked by the clearing of her throat. The older boy tsked at her with a patronizing shake of his head and a glance over his shoulder that said the words he did not have the confidence to say: Silly girl. I am in every part of this equation and you know it. He knew, likely, that it was a lie -- she probably didn't feel like changing, and he could tell by now that she didn't want to be here with him. A small voice in the back of his mind pitied her, said he didn't blame her -- all creepiness aside, he was probably the worst person to go on a date (or a not-date, for that matter) with. She had better things to do with her time.
By then his brief contemplation had made his smile fade. "Don't be nervous," he instructed her with a laugh he hoped was more charming than he felt at the time. "Shit, Katie, you act like I'm going to rape you anally at any minute now." It was easy to tell by his expression that he immediately regretted the comment. It had come out of habit, but in retrospect -- bad timing. Not the thing to say at all, dumbshit. His eyes lowered as he held the door for Katie. Then, just as quickly, he got over it.
"We'll save that for later."
It had been too good to resist.
"Starbucks, then," he confirmed. "Might as well. Don't feel like forking over my right fucking arm for a decent latte."
Katie didn't like the way he looked at her (or, did she?), and she felt her fear melt slowly into plain irritation. If he kept on practically undressing her with his eyes, she would have to hit him with something blunt. Or, she reasoned with herself, she would simply ask him to stop! The silly girl still believed that Skip could be an altogether decent person when you got past all of the horrible creepiness. And he wasn't acting that creepy, really, not right then. Perhaps there was hope for him.
The thought put a small smile on her face, but it was gone as fast as it came because he said something about anally raping her, and she considered hiding behind something. Before she could do that, however, he had opened the door, and she thought she detected a hint of regret in his expression. Though it went away promptly, that was enough to ensure her that he really wasn't going to rape her, and she went out the door, waiting for her not-date to follow.
His next comment got a scandalized look from her. She recovered quickly and cleared her throat, a new (and probably unattractive) habit she seemed to be forming, forcing a laugh.
She then looked over at him, wondering for just a moment how it felt to... worry about money. Then she realized what a pretentious and obnoxious and presumptuous thought it was, and hated herself for it. To make up for it, she tried to joke along with him. "What about your left arm?"
The corner of his mouth curled, invoked by the clearing of her throat. The older boy tsked at her with a patronizing shake of his head and a glance over his shoulder that said the words he did not have the confidence to say: Silly girl. I am in every part of this equation and you know it. He knew, likely, that it was a lie -- she probably didn't feel like changing, and he could tell by now that she didn't want to be here with him. A small voice in the back of his mind pitied her, said he didn't blame her -- all creepiness aside, he was probably the worst person to go on a date (or a not-date, for that matter) with. She had better things to do with her time.
By then his brief contemplation had made his smile fade. "Don't be nervous," he instructed her with a laugh he hoped was more charming than he felt at the time. "Shit, Katie, you act like I'm going to rape you anally at any minute now." It was easy to tell by his expression that he immediately regretted the comment. It had come out of habit, but in retrospect -- bad timing. Not the thing to say at all, dumbshit. His eyes lowered as he held the door for Katie. Then, just as quickly, he got over it.
"We'll save that for later."
It had been too good to resist.
"Starbucks, then," he confirmed. "Might as well. Don't feel like forking over my right fucking arm for a decent latte."
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Katie didn't like the way he looked at her (or, did she?), and she felt her fear melt slowly into plain irritation. If he kept on practically undressing her with his eyes, she would have to hit him with something blunt. Or, she reasoned with herself, she would simply ask him to stop! The silly girl still believed that Skip could be an altogether decent person when you got past all of the horrible creepiness. And he wasn't acting that creepy, really, not right then. Perhaps there was hope for him.
The thought put a small smile on her face, but it was gone as fast as it came because he said something about anally raping her, and she considered hiding behind something. Before she could do that, however, he had opened the door, and she thought she detected a hint of regret in his expression. Though it went away promptly, that was enough to ensure her that he really wasn't going to rape her, and she went out the door, waiting for her not-date to follow.
His next comment got a scandalized look from her. She recovered quickly and cleared her throat, a new (and probably unattractive) habit she seemed to be forming, forcing a laugh.
She then looked over at him, wondering for just a moment how it felt to... worry about money. Then she realized what a pretentious and obnoxious and presumptuous thought it was, and hated herself for it. To make up for it, she tried to joke along with him. "What about your left arm?"
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