That’s an unfamiliar tone. Anzu has never been one to talk about guys like this – evasive, like their names are some sort of big secret, and pessimistic, like she doesn’t stand a chance with them, anyway.
“I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry. We… that is, the staff decided that it would be best if Rory was picked up by one of her parents. Or maybe another family friend.”
"It’s not like you can pretend like you’re just casual hookup friends forever. What are you going to do when one of you gets hurt? Quit your job and stop hanging out with your oldest friend?"
That’s a lie – Yugi has way better things to do tonight than listen to her whine about this screwed-up life of hers. He probably has better things to do every night. But who cares? Like so many, this lie is seductively easy to tell.
But at least you’re cozy now, breathing the honey-citrus-y scent that you know must be shampoo but that always just screams Anzu, and for the first time in about two hours, your heart rate goes down a tiny bit.
Impatiently, she buries her hands in his hair, pulls him towards her, and this time, their collision is much more precise, drawn out, and way, way too satisfying.
