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“Can you-" He tugs her by her wrist and Alex rolls her eyes but falls back in line. “Just follow me, I know the area.”
“Just follow me, I know the area,” she parrots back, mockingly, though she doesn’t pull out of his grasp. Probably best not to go poking her nose into abandoned strip malls around here, anyway.
Jonas manages a wry smile. “You’re not the one who got stabbed by some of these motherfuckers-”
“Not stabbed, just cut,” she clarifies.
His steps falter as he watches her for a second, then shakes his head and continues walking. “…I can’t believe you’re making a distinction over that.”
Alex shrugs dismissively, tone playfully scolding, though mostly flippant. “Plenty of actual real life stabbing victims would be amazed by your gall to claim you were stabbed.”
He doesn’t respond. Just keeps shaking his head, eyes scanning the road, the sidewalk, the gray concrete and weeds and litter crammed in every crevice.
Eyes narrow. “Wait– have you actually been stabbed?”
More silence.
Her eyes skim over his figure, trying to remember if she’s seen any marks to confirm or deny. But that train of thought gets very dirty very fast, and even with their little arrangement she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t want her jumping his bones in the midst of a trip that falls more on the ‘friends’ side of the equation than the ‘benefits.’ She can’t think of seeing the remnants of a stabbing, though. Not that she’s entirely sure what that would look like. “I mean… not to say I don’t believe you, but I don’t recall any scars of that variety.”
“Not to brag,” he counters with a hooked smirk, “-but I think you’re usually fairly distracted while my shirt’s off.”
“On the contrary, I’m exceedingly focused,” Alex grins back. He knows this about her. She’s been open about her attraction to him from the day they met. Always pushing, though she’s accepted he’ll never be interested in her romantically. That’s fine. Probably better, in the long run, with her relationship history. They have their arrangement. Better off as friends. Who fuck. Sometimes.
“Maybe - though I find it hard to believe you can focus on anything-”
She goes to elbow him in the ribs, but he adjusts the hold on her wrist, keeping her from hitting her target.
“-but on scars?”
She pulls up short to retaliate with her other hand, only for that to be caught, too. Not that she minds it. If anything, he’s just causing problems for himself. He should really know her switches by now. “Angel; I would memorize your body.” There’s always that easy drawl to her voice. Hitting on him is second nature. Half to annoy him, half cause she’s just a lustful creature and it’s true.
She expects a witty retort. A dismissal over her tendency toward blatant sexuality.
She does not expect the way he glances down at her, that rueful fondness in his eyes. Fuck, he’s soft.
Thumbs brush over her skin and she feels that familiar sense of guilt and confusion seeping up from the pit of her gut as her ears go pink. He doesn’t like her. She knows he doesn’t. They’re– they’re friends, dammit. Friends. And fuck buddies. But then sometimes he looks at her like that, and… it doesn’t make sense.
It’s frustrating.
Alex clears her throat. “Anyway.” She starts to pull away, ready to return to the task at hand. “So. …Your dad’s place?” She’s got one wrist free, continuing the way they’d been heading, but he’s still got a hold on the other, and the gentle tug pulls her a different way. Toward a little alley. A dumpster, a parking lot, and behind all that a fenced off lawn. …No, not a lawn.
“…My mom’s, actually.”