[ Jess tosses her clothes to the couch and pulls the towel off, using it to squeeze the last drops of water from her hair and then laying it down near her stuff. the moderate temperature of the room has raised gooseflesh from shoulders to toes; Jess sorts through her shirt, turning it right side out, and then smells it and, yeesh, should've done that first. it stinks of sweat. that it could be significantly worse hardly talks her into putting it back on.
after putting on her underwear, she goes to rifle through his clothes instead. he has the same penchant for long-sleeve t-shirts with a Henley tag and it takes her no time to find his grey one and pull it on. at least two sizes too large, it skims the tops of her thighs, with the sleeves almost swallowing her thumbs. Jess takes a break in dressing, having a seat on his bed. her brain must be tricking her into thinking she's more comfortable than she can objectively be; not a full minute passes before she relents to crawling onto her side and setting her head down on the blanket. then, she might as well go all in, so she shuts her eyes and listens to the falling water on the other side of the wall. eventually, she reels her legs up from the floor.
there's no chance she'll fall asleep. he won't let her, for one, but it's the liquor bottle on the floor that's sustaining her internal motivation. in another second or two, she'll get up and go grab it. or three. four more. the water shuts off, okay, before he gets out, then. the door opens and his footfalls call the expiration of that deadline too. well, it's not going anywhere. ]
I'm not sleeping. [ just lazy, proven by not bothering to open her eyes or move a muscle. ]
no subject
after putting on her underwear, she goes to rifle through his clothes instead. he has the same penchant for long-sleeve t-shirts with a Henley tag and it takes her no time to find his grey one and pull it on. at least two sizes too large, it skims the tops of her thighs, with the sleeves almost swallowing her thumbs. Jess takes a break in dressing, having a seat on his bed. her brain must be tricking her into thinking she's more comfortable than she can objectively be; not a full minute passes before she relents to crawling onto her side and setting her head down on the blanket. then, she might as well go all in, so she shuts her eyes and listens to the falling water on the other side of the wall. eventually, she reels her legs up from the floor.
there's no chance she'll fall asleep. he won't let her, for one, but it's the liquor bottle on the floor that's sustaining her internal motivation. in another second or two, she'll get up and go grab it. or three. four more. the water shuts off, okay, before he gets out, then. the door opens and his footfalls call the expiration of that deadline too. well, it's not going anywhere. ]
I'm not sleeping. [ just lazy, proven by not bothering to open her eyes or move a muscle. ]