Like a friend, friend? The kind his sister said he didn't seem to have? The kind she's never known him to have? An outside of work, entirely new person, friend?
"Obviously they're more than that."
Not to be vain, but she doesn't think he'd throw her over for a new friend, even one he's hooking up with. They've had each other for years, her and Steve, and she follows his eyes as they glance around the room, wondering why he looks half guilty and half wretched and not at all like someone who has somebody special in their life. Which is maybe -- well, she just isn't sure she can picture Steve, newly in, whatever this is, like or lust or infatuation or. It can't be love. Right? She would have known about it. Wouldn't he have said something? Wouldn't it have come up beforehand, when she was asking about the news from the island? Isn't this person, whoever it is, someone who deserves to at least be noted, along with his team-members?
She folds her arms, more over her stomach than over her chest, not to be defensive, just because she literally has no idea what to do with her hands right now, and softens her tone, her eyes, the edges of her mouth, as much as she can, because this is not an interrogation, Steve is her friend, and he clearly has something going on that's going to be difficult to work through.
Why not give her a name? Why not offer any details? What's holding him back and making him look so reluctant? It's not like she hasn't done the same thing to him, now and again, and he'd always respected it, backed off to just friends and ignored the benefits until whatever it was fell through. One hand lifts, off her elbow.
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Like a friend, friend? The kind his sister said he didn't seem to have? The kind she's never known him to have? An outside of work, entirely new person, friend?
"Obviously they're more than that."
Not to be vain, but she doesn't think he'd throw her over for a new friend, even one he's hooking up with. They've had each other for years, her and Steve, and she follows his eyes as they glance around the room, wondering why he looks half guilty and half wretched and not at all like someone who has somebody special in their life. Which is maybe -- well, she just isn't sure she can picture Steve, newly in, whatever this is, like or lust or infatuation or. It can't be love. Right? She would have known about it. Wouldn't he have said something? Wouldn't it have come up beforehand, when she was asking about the news from the island? Isn't this person, whoever it is, someone who deserves to at least be noted, along with his team-members?
She folds her arms, more over her stomach than over her chest, not to be defensive, just because she literally has no idea what to do with her hands right now, and softens her tone, her eyes, the edges of her mouth, as much as she can, because this is not an interrogation, Steve is her friend, and he clearly has something going on that's going to be difficult to work through.
Why not give her a name? Why not offer any details? What's holding him back and making him look so reluctant? It's not like she hasn't done the same thing to him, now and again, and he'd always respected it, backed off to just friends and ignored the benefits until whatever it was fell through. One hand lifts, off her elbow.
"Well, do I know them?"