Yes! because the thing about threesomes is no one gets away in the lead-up to them with not being awkward!
Emma knows she should be so happy, with Andrew, and now what with visiting Jesse, but she isn't. Or like - there's this sensation she gets sometimes that she could have more. And sometimes she leans back on the sofa watching her boys talk over a movie, part of and separate from them, and wonders how it is that she feels like she's perennially missing something.
She should have her shit figured out by now. She's twenty-two, has been described variantly in many interviews as "bright", or "sparky", or "husky".
She isn't. She just feels stupid and helpless.
Jesse goes to the kitchen and gets some carrot sticks and dip for all of them and on the way back, he brushes her shoulder. "You okay?" he asks.
(She remembers that's what she liked the most about Jesse when she first met - the way he seemed so sensitive to his surroundings and other people. She felt like they knew each other even before they found out they'd both had their first panic attacks when they were 8.)
Emma nods, trying not to catalogue that touch. "Yeah," she says, smiling too brightly.
Andrew flings an arm across Jesse's shoulders. Emma tries not to be a shitty human being, tries not to notice that Jesse looks half-miserable.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: Saturday, 27 August 2011 04:24 (UTC)Emma knows she should be so happy, with Andrew, and now what with visiting Jesse, but she isn't. Or like - there's this sensation she gets sometimes that she could have more. And sometimes she leans back on the sofa watching her boys talk over a movie, part of and separate from them, and wonders how it is that she feels like she's perennially missing something.
She should have her shit figured out by now. She's twenty-two, has been described variantly in many interviews as "bright", or "sparky", or "husky".
She isn't. She just feels stupid and helpless.
Jesse goes to the kitchen and gets some carrot sticks and dip for all of them and on the way back, he brushes her shoulder. "You okay?" he asks.
(She remembers that's what she liked the most about Jesse when she first met - the way he seemed so sensitive to his surroundings and other people. She felt like they knew each other even before they found out they'd both had their first panic attacks when they were 8.)
Emma nods, trying not to catalogue that touch. "Yeah," she says, smiling too brightly.
Andrew flings an arm across Jesse's shoulders. Emma tries not to be a shitty human being, tries not to notice that Jesse looks half-miserable.