This is what it means to be a woman in this world. Every step is a bargain with pain. Make your black deals in the black wood and decide what you’ll trade for power. For the opposite of weakness, which is not strength, but hardness.
“We’ve known each other long enough, just cause we weren’t stuffin’ each others pocket’s with mashed potatoes of matrimony don’t mean you can’t confide in me.”
Boldly springing to the strife of drink the bend at his waist became suddenly more severe. Flat of palm making due accordance with the upper limits of his jeans the entire flex of back vaulted over dipped shoulders. Tsunami of the fall expedited with the loose comfort of liquid fortification. Normally in solitude, incapacitate by concurrent drinking Boyd would have gone insular. Introvert in him subduing his voice in favor of internal tides, drill downwards till there was nowhere to hide from his own sin. “-that man that ended up on your porch, the ruler of thoughts hazardous and immersed, the one that’s holdin’ a placecard of your personal opinion…he’s gone Ava- no more. That all changed today when I signed on that line, a designation of what’s to come, and by all mean Ava, by all fuckin’ means- ain’t none of that destined for the county jail.”
Ratcheting back, the seriousness of his tone played off with the lingering smile that morphed with every quick succession of thought. It was here that he planted the root of each fingertip at the circumference of his drink, coasted it in a left leaning voyage before speaking again.
“There’s a fella over your right shoulder, now- don’t be lookin’, but hes got some mighty wolfish maws set to devour…”
Gaping jawline and winced hues flooded his forests, unamused. “Never really gave me any reason to,” she countered, slender shoulder shrugging. He hadn’t given her cause and that was a fact. Fixed regard remained on emerald hues, searching and immersing full attention in his declaration. Tiers pressed tautly together and she debated parting lips to speak. The consequence of forthcoming regret was brought into consideration, but intoxication dominated clarity and thoughts would overflow. “I wanna believe you Boyd, I really do, but your tr—“
Befuddlement etched fair veneer due to interjection. Telling her not to look could have possibly been the dumbest thing Boyd could’ve said this evening. Chin united right shoulder as oceans wavered over onlooker’s frame. He made the skinny, buck-toothed, outlaw seated beside her look like Brad Pitt in comparison. “Really?” That was the second time she’d conveyed particular inquiry this evening. “He ain’t even good lookin’,” she muttered before stealing swill of beer. “Ain’t like he’s the only one, pretty sure the rest of the lowlifes in here are looking mighty hungry.” Ava could detect the numerous pairs of eyes intently honing in on her.
“Now that I think about it, seems like there ain’t really a lot of single women in here for y’all to look at.”
Perhaps he should have thought of that before escorting her into a cockroach infested watering hole. “Is it botherin’ you?” Ceruleans drifted to suspicious stranger continuing to disturbingly admire her. “Makes you feel better, I think he’s creepier than you are.” That should’ve at least counted for something. Concentration reverted to the outlaw and briefly trailed defined aspect prior to pressing beer bottle against lush lips.
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