Quelqu'un m'a dit
She didn't mean for this to happen.
Didn't mean to, but knew it would.
It was supposed to be a catch up, a talk. A how-are-you-and-how-have-you-been-these-past-two-years?
But it was at his apartment, and the second he'd suggested that, her heart had skipped a beat.
She'd been walking through town, when suddenly, there he was.
A familiar face amongst a sea of strangers and suits.
"Molly!" he'd exclaimed, laughing.
He was really just too cheery for her. That was one of the things that Molly always struggled with. Ryan was always a box of fluffy ducks. He could witness a well-trimmed hedge and his day would be off to a brilliant start.
And Molly?
Well, she certainly wasn't a pessimist. A realist, she'd say. No reason to smile if there's nothing worth smiling about.
And yet, Ryan had some effect on her (someone always does, don't they?).
And so when he'd jovially hugged her and asked if they could 'catch up,' she found herself nodding without thinking. Did she really want to see him? Well, no.
She found him somewhat irritating, but... She couldn't say no to that face. It would be like stealing candy from a child. Upsetting Ryan made anyone feel like the anti-christ.
No, she didn't care at all about seeing Ryan again. At least, that's what she told herself as she looked in the mirror.
She frowned as she twisted and looked at her reflection over her shoulder. She regretted not having worked out enough that week, regretted eating those depression doughnuts.
She squeezed on some heels, the same pair she used to wear to dinner with Ryan two years ago. Her father has once compared them to something Morticia would wear. And that was how Molly liked it.
She'd knocked on his red door on the second floor of the apartment he was in, (much flasher than the last) and awkwardly handed the bottle of wine to him as he opened the door and squeezed her tight.
She hated wine.
But of course she drank it anyway.
Let the liquid slide down her throat, felt her cheeks flush more with each glass, and nodded and smiled at every ecstatic thing Ryan had to tell her.
Once they'd eaten (the gorgeous meal that Ryan had cooked- the bastard had something wrong with him, he was too ridiculously perfect) they migrated to his balcony, and Molly was glad to be able to appreciate the balmy night and the lack of light- no need for Ryan to notice her ever reddening complexion.
"You're looking great, Molly." Ryan smiled, placing his hand over hers on the railing.
And that was that. She was caught. Hook, line and sinker.
As his fingers traced hers every memory and feeling came flooding back.
She gripped his hand in return and before she knew it they were in his room.
----------------------
"Yeah, well I've got a meeting to get to," Ryan smiled at her in the morning.
"Oh, okay..." Molly managed.
She'd hardly slept. Lay awake all night listening to Ryan's constant, quiet breathing, listening to the cars below. She'd sobered up before she slept, that was the problem. If she'd been drunk, she would have had a euphoric sleep. But she wasn't, and so she worried.
And so she should have.
"You just let yourself out, lock the door before you go!" Ryan yelled to her as he left the room and got into the shower.
Molly knew what this was now. This was Ryan, using his charms, yet again.
And dammit, he always succeeded.
Didn't mean to, but knew it would.
It was supposed to be a catch up, a talk. A how-are-you-and-how-have-you-been-these-past-two-years?
But it was at his apartment, and the second he'd suggested that, her heart had skipped a beat.
She'd been walking through town, when suddenly, there he was.
A familiar face amongst a sea of strangers and suits.
"Molly!" he'd exclaimed, laughing.
He was really just too cheery for her. That was one of the things that Molly always struggled with. Ryan was always a box of fluffy ducks. He could witness a well-trimmed hedge and his day would be off to a brilliant start.
And Molly?
Well, she certainly wasn't a pessimist. A realist, she'd say. No reason to smile if there's nothing worth smiling about.
And yet, Ryan had some effect on her (someone always does, don't they?).
And so when he'd jovially hugged her and asked if they could 'catch up,' she found herself nodding without thinking. Did she really want to see him? Well, no.
She found him somewhat irritating, but... She couldn't say no to that face. It would be like stealing candy from a child. Upsetting Ryan made anyone feel like the anti-christ.
No, she didn't care at all about seeing Ryan again. At least, that's what she told herself as she looked in the mirror.
She frowned as she twisted and looked at her reflection over her shoulder. She regretted not having worked out enough that week, regretted eating those depression doughnuts.
She squeezed on some heels, the same pair she used to wear to dinner with Ryan two years ago. Her father has once compared them to something Morticia would wear. And that was how Molly liked it.
She'd knocked on his red door on the second floor of the apartment he was in, (much flasher than the last) and awkwardly handed the bottle of wine to him as he opened the door and squeezed her tight.
She hated wine.
But of course she drank it anyway.
Let the liquid slide down her throat, felt her cheeks flush more with each glass, and nodded and smiled at every ecstatic thing Ryan had to tell her.
Once they'd eaten (the gorgeous meal that Ryan had cooked- the bastard had something wrong with him, he was too ridiculously perfect) they migrated to his balcony, and Molly was glad to be able to appreciate the balmy night and the lack of light- no need for Ryan to notice her ever reddening complexion.
"You're looking great, Molly." Ryan smiled, placing his hand over hers on the railing.
And that was that. She was caught. Hook, line and sinker.
As his fingers traced hers every memory and feeling came flooding back.
She gripped his hand in return and before she knew it they were in his room.
----------------------
"Yeah, well I've got a meeting to get to," Ryan smiled at her in the morning.
"Oh, okay..." Molly managed.
She'd hardly slept. Lay awake all night listening to Ryan's constant, quiet breathing, listening to the cars below. She'd sobered up before she slept, that was the problem. If she'd been drunk, she would have had a euphoric sleep. But she wasn't, and so she worried.
And so she should have.
"You just let yourself out, lock the door before you go!" Ryan yelled to her as he left the room and got into the shower.
Molly knew what this was now. This was Ryan, using his charms, yet again.
And dammit, he always succeeded.
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