Always forward, never back
Everything seemed to have slowed down recently. There wasn't a lot going on overall, not really. Unfortunately, Orla had never been good at not being busy. It gave her too much time to get wrapped up in her head. That was dangerous on the best of days.
And so danger in this case meant something along the lines of drinking too much rosé and painting something Picasso would have been confused by (and she wasn't exactly a fan of cubism anyway). The point was, she wasn't risking much but her own sanity these days.
Granted, that was generally due to fixating a bit too much on someone she probably shouldn't be focusing on. Though she'd had the awkward conversations about it, and she wasn't exactly known for sitting back and letting things happen without forcing them to just because she wanted them to.
So maybe that's why she'd finally gotten on her own nerves enough to stop being obsessed over a beyond sexy situation that ended up with one of her walls painted and the feel of Dean against her lips refusing to go away. No, she wasn't going to be fixated anymore. She wasn't going to sit around and wait for something to happen.
She had gotten an address off Seamus without too much trouble and had considered owling ahead. Then she'd decided that was unnecessary, grabbed a bottle of wine, picked up burgers at the only place worth picking them up from, and headed to a flat she genuinely hoped was right and not Seamus just being an asshole because of some misplaced (though understandable, sort of) jealousy.
Shifting bags around, Orla knocked and took a deep breath.
At least no one could ever say Orla Quirke wasn't forward.
And so danger in this case meant something along the lines of drinking too much rosé and painting something Picasso would have been confused by (and she wasn't exactly a fan of cubism anyway). The point was, she wasn't risking much but her own sanity these days.
Granted, that was generally due to fixating a bit too much on someone she probably shouldn't be focusing on. Though she'd had the awkward conversations about it, and she wasn't exactly known for sitting back and letting things happen without forcing them to just because she wanted them to.
So maybe that's why she'd finally gotten on her own nerves enough to stop being obsessed over a beyond sexy situation that ended up with one of her walls painted and the feel of Dean against her lips refusing to go away. No, she wasn't going to be fixated anymore. She wasn't going to sit around and wait for something to happen.
She had gotten an address off Seamus without too much trouble and had considered owling ahead. Then she'd decided that was unnecessary, grabbed a bottle of wine, picked up burgers at the only place worth picking them up from, and headed to a flat she genuinely hoped was right and not Seamus just being an asshole because of some misplaced (though understandable, sort of) jealousy.
Shifting bags around, Orla knocked and took a deep breath.
At least no one could ever say Orla Quirke wasn't forward.