Today felt oddly  long. Yet as Ian entered his number, Emmeline reflected on how the display had only said 11:15am when she handed it over. Vincent wouldn't be out of work for another 7 hours, and there was still the dinner she had promised him afterwards. He'd expect her to stay the night, of course. Her tuition didn't come without attachments.<br/><br/>This was going to be a long semester. Maybe she could go home and catch a nap.<br/><br/>"Are you just going to follow me out?" he asked.<br/><br/>She paused, hesitating. She could see him read her hesitation; she could see both their unwillingness spill across the awkward distance they stood apart from each other. Neither of them wanted to do this. Caught off guard, she didn't think of an excuse fast enough; he found his resolve, pulling out his car keys and offering her a ride.  Her shoulders slumped as she resigned herself to skit practice with an amateur. She didn't want to leave Vincent any room to say she didn't at least try.   "Fine, but you're feeding me."<br/><br/><br/>__________________________________________<br/><br/>Emmeline watched the streets blur by, her purse tucked neatly on top of crossed legs. Whatever she was thinking was hidden behind  placid features. She regarded the outside of his home in a similar, unrevealing, blank way. "Huh... It's very... white picket." She helped herself out of the car, leaning against it for a moment to fix the back of her flats before walking forward, to the front door, with or without  him.<br/><br/>"Your siss gonna wants some too?" She pulled her phone back out of the depths of her cleavage, rubbing the screen clean on her hip. "Doesn't have to be pizza. Name your pick." She paused at the door expectantly.