The first time James meets her she’s not exactly dancing. Flailing might be a good way to describe it but she’s enjoying it. She’s smiling so hard he almost can’t see the sleepless bruises under her eyes. But he’s all elbows today and it’s definitely his fault that he cracks her one across the shoulder. His apology is genuine though and she shakes her head, flails one hand as if to wave it off. There is pink high in her cheeks and she’s biting her lip. Her eyes keep darting up to his face and she knows exactly who he is
( ... )
The first time James kisses the band is no fucking good. They’re local kids who know too much about what punk is supposed to be to feel anything about it. It’s boring the ever loving fuck out of him so he goes out for a smoke. It’s the price you pay for going to the unknown local shit. Sometimes it pays off in gold and sometimes it’s a waste of the five dollar cover.
“You got a light?” the colour is high in her cheeks and he wonders if she really does need the lighter or not. He tips his hips forward off the wall to dig his lighter out of his pocket and hands it over.
“James,” he says, like she doesn’t already know. The first time he saw her she was more dressed up than this, heeled boots and dark lips. The dressed down thing works on her. She looks like she’s more comfortable in her skin and he wonders if the plaid button down she’s wearing belongs to her boyfriend.
“Tolmie,” she tells him and James appreciates that she let the I know moment go without comment. He watches her raise the cigarette to her lips and light it,
( ... )
The first time James fucks her it is inappropriately early in the day. Torrid, artist love affairs take place in the hazy pre dawn moments or in the crowded, smoky hours spent in bars that serve PBR for way too much. It’s not supposed to be a bright, clear Saturday afternoon with winter sunlight streaming cheerily through her bedroom windows
( ... )
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“You got a light?” the colour is high in her cheeks and he wonders if she really does need the lighter or not. He tips his hips forward off the wall to dig his lighter out of his pocket and hands it over.
“James,” he says, like she doesn’t already know. The first time he saw her she was more dressed up than this, heeled boots and dark lips. The dressed down thing works on her. She looks like she’s more comfortable in her skin and he wonders if the plaid button down she’s wearing belongs to her boyfriend.
“Tolmie,” she tells him and James appreciates that she let the I know moment go without comment. He watches her raise the cigarette to her lips and light it, ( ... )
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