So Brodie had kind of been a pussy. He'd known that he wanted to ask Zoe out since pretty much the second time he'd talked to her, and it had taken her drunkenly accosting him at an island party to make it happen. Maybe it had been the fact that he wasn't exactly used to chicks quoting The Trilogy back at him or knowing what the fuck he was talking
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Sure she had been the one to press Brodie into manning up and asking her ought, but now that there was an actual date in place she had contemplating blowing it off. It wasn't him, it wasn't anything other than the fear that this was some sort of weird joke.
A lot of pacing in Cyd's room and six tee shirt swaps later and she walked into the Winchester, casting a look around before spotting him and walking over.
"Hey. How's it going?" Ugh, could she sound any more ridiculous? This was just great.
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He stood and pulled out a chair for her, all GENTLEMANLY and shit.
"It's uh. It's good. You?"
He nearly fucking WINCED at how lame he sounded.
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"Yeah. Good, really good," she said with nod, making a face and then nodding again. Leaning forward, she rubbed her eyes with her fingers contemplating gauging them out to break the tension. "Shit, is it going to be this bad all night? Cause if it is, it sucks balls."
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Brodie had been anticipating this whole thing being easier, given that Zoe was a chick who GOT IT. If he had to endure more than another minute of everything feeling awkward as shit, he was pretty sure he was going to have to just say 'fuck it' and call it a wash. Zoe calling the first minute out as really fucking weird though? Good goddamn, but he was relieved.
Yes, he still assumed that he'd be subject to the normal quota of girl conversations about shoes and clothes and tampons and shit, but it was a pretty fair trade in this case.
Brodie took his own seat across from her, visibly more relaxed.
"Jesus fucking Christ. I thought I was the only one." He said.
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