Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧∘ଂ࿐ ཾ
Máire stood in the dim entrance hall of the pub, running her hands together as a sort of way to keep her distracted from the waiting as the attendant of the cloakroom went back to search for the jacket she'd handed in when they had arrived. Next to her, Aaron casually leaned up against the wall of the coat check desk Máire stood at. He looked at her in a relaxed manner, calm from the alcohol he'd consumed.
"Stop looking at me like that." Máire glanced at the older man — he had shaved; his face smooth, his demeanor soft. She glanced away again. Her words weren't hard or mean, they lacked any edge whatsoever, actually. They sounded like a blush, if a blush could be heard.
"Like what?" He asked softly, looking up at her from his slumped position, half curious and sincere, half as though it was some sort of mildly amusing dare.
"I don't know, you know." She shrugged. She stared at her shoes, "you must know."
Aaron didn't respond. Instead, he lazily reached his hand out to grab one of hers, which she let him take. He gently turned it over in his own hand, drawing lines on his palm and extending her fingers before tucking them back in. "They're soft." He commented, looking back up at her
"It's that lotion you always steal from my room — the vanilla plum one." She responded, looking down at how large his hands were in comparison to hers
"How did you know I was taking it from your room?" He asked, confused, as if he thought he'd done a good job as to hide the fact that he enjoyed her girl products from her, "why didn't you say anything?"
"I don't know, it doesn't bother me." She shrugged, "you just never quite put it back where it belonged, I always noticed when it was just a bit out of place."
"Damn," he had gone back to examining her open hand he held on his, "and here I was thinking I was stealthy."
Máire smiled at him softly, turning her hand over so that their palms were against one another's. She pushed their hands up so that they were up in front in between them, as if the two were comparing hand sizes. He bent the tips of his fingers down so they covered over hers, and then breathed out a brief laugh at the difference. Máire couldn't help but to stare at Aaron, but he didn't notice. He extended his fingers again and then shifted his hand so that his fingers were placed in the dips between hers before slipping down in between them to intertwine their fingers. The blonde girl slowly let her fingers come down around his hand too, as if his hand would evaporate too quickly if she moved too quickly.
The attendant came back with their coats and their hands dropped. Máire reached for them, thanking the woman behind the desk who quickly disappeared again. She handed Aaron's to him, which he quickly put on before helping Máire get hers on, holding it out in front of himself so that she could put her arms through it more easily. Somehow in the process, his hand had ended up resting on her shoulder, and she suddenly felt keenly aware of his touch. More aware than she had ever really been before, for some reason which she chose to ignore. Heat rose to her face at the idea, and she ignored that too.
