Ava stared down, her long hair the monster-deflecting blanket she used to hide under at night, and felt deeply ridiculous. Her pink and green striped shirt had never (not even on that memorable occasion when, to make her laugh, Justin wore it with high heels and little else) seemed more offensive.
Looking briefly up, she saw that he was pinching the bridge of his nose again-- another little tic, probably something he'd picked up from some long-suffering Harlequin romance character named Hugo.
When he spoke, she thought that he'd probably taken Hugo's words, too.
"Why are you doing this? Can we just both say what we mean...for once?"
Ava bent her fingers back, one by one, stalling for time.
"It'll take longer."
She didn't like the way he tilted his head at her, too knowing, too psycho-analyzing. Too... Justin-y.
He noticed her squirming. How had he put up with it?
Sometimes people drift apart.
Because they change! We're still the same.
Are we?
Again with the talk-show questions. How do you think Justin, your ex-boyfriend, feels about that statement, Ava? Justin, how would you like to respond?
Everything was too familiar with Justin.
She'd seen it all before.
Do you ever feel like--she'd start a sentence, and trail off, realizing that they'd already had this conversation, when they were both happier and the light glinting off their smiling teeth rosier.
He didn't even ask.
She had liked it initially, his not pursuing her neverminds. Maybe it meant they knew each other well.
When did things turn bad? he asked, the "with us" left hanging.
You started asking questions, she said.
((not even sure what this is, i have a feeling i'm going to think it's unacceptably crappy in the morning though))
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