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Story Notes:
long time writer, long time fan. Enjoy this one-shot 

There was no way she would have seen the look in his eyes as she drove away, desperately trying to hold onto the memories from the night she’d soon forget. 


He watched, for far too long. The car speeding away, his hands drifted into his pockets unsure of their placement. He felt so tall, so uncoordinated, and maybe it was the slight buzz or the smell of her fruity breath that had his ears ringing even as she left but he was rooted to that spot in the parking lot. 


She fiddled with her fingernails, chipping the  pink off of each nail as the lights lit up the inside of Angela’s car with each passing vehicle. It was silent. They both preferred it that way. She wouldn’t have to listen to Angela scoff about how she’d acted that night, and Pam would not say something she’d regret later. The truth was just sitting on the tip of her tongue. can I ask you a question over and over in her head, until the sound became deafening. 


The car’s dashboard lit up, alerting him that he’d needed to put air inside a tire. He sighed, rubbing tired eyes with a hand, and swallowing the stubborn “No” down his throat. He was ready to say it, No. A thousand times he’d tell her. No, you shouldn’t. But she never asked, and he wouldn’t push. She was in a comfortable spot, that when her shoulder touched his, or tonight, when her lips brushed against his own, he wouldn’t risk anymore. He’d sit, and wait, and hope, like the tire, it wouldn’t deflate during the ride. 


“Should I stay?” she whispered the words under her breath at least three times before she was met with a cocky “what?” from the driver. 


“It’s nothing,” her cheeks burned, and she pulled her Dundie closer to her chest, only three more streets until she was home. She knew he’d be asleep, sprawled out on the couch, pants undone, beer cans everywhere, and she also knew she’d clean up after him, set her award mindlessly on the counter, and forget entirely about the evening. He wouldn’t thank her for picking up his mess, or awaking him to come up to bed, and like usual, he wouldn’t turn over and pull her close to him in bed. It had been years since she felt his arms hold her tight against him. 


When she heard his snores filling the room, a meek voice broke from her lips, “ you had a busy day today “ she paused you’ll marry a music man” she’d forgotten the rest of the words, and as her own eyes closed, the boy 8.6 miles away in his apartment strummed his guitar, softly…slowly. 

Chapter End Notes:
Excited to finally share some dabbles in fan fiction outside my day job of medical journal writing :) 


jimjamesjimothy is the author of 1 other stories.



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