Cordelia had lost. She had lost spectacularly, thoroughly trounced by Ronan's charms, and she was ready to slap herself for being so weak. Frantically, she tried to pull on her clothes, but her skin was sticky, and nothing would fit right.
Her bra strap had somehow fastened itself, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ronan helping her.
"I've got to go home tonight. Victoria’s waiting for me, and besides, Janice isn't too fond of me," Cordelia said.
"Mhm," he grunted in response.
"Why don't you find someone else?" she asked him.
Ronan stood behind her, fidgeting with her clothes. She struggled into her sweater, and with a bit of a tug from him, it finally settled over her frame.
Once she was all set, Cordelia fished her hair out from under her sweater and flung it back with a flick of her head.
Ronan, standing behind her, paused for a moment, taken aback. "Who the hell knows why I fell for you? All drama and no appreciation!" Ronan gritted out.
Cordelia bit her lip and stayed silent.
"Got a hairdryer?" she asked, turning to him.
"You never used to blow-dry your hair," he said softly, a hint of irritation in his voice.
The thought of their everyday life together, her little habit of not air-drying her hair, the nights they had shared, and then the years they had missed – it all made Ronan restless. When he had met her, he was just thirty, in his prime. Now he was thirty-six, approaching forty, and she was twenty-eight. He had asked himself time and again why he didn't just find someone else. She had so many bad habits and showed him so little appreciation, yet whenever a beautiful woman approached him, he couldn't help but compare her to Cordelia. None had her ambition, her determination to follow her dreams even if it meant leaving everything else behind. Slowly, Cordelia had become the standard by which he measured everyone else, an insurmountable peak.
"I need to, you know, because it's getting..." Cordelia tried to explain, wanting to say it was snowing heavily outside, and it was cold.
"Don't you dare leave!" he said hoarsely, his voice deep and raspy, as if the very thought of her leaving would devour her.
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