Just friends, Juniper

Juniper sits with her legs tucked under her on a faded striped chair, the firelight licking gently at her skin. A half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey sits between her thighs, a bit of lipstick clinging to the bottle. Her black tee clings slightly at the collarbone, stretched from the way she keeps tugging at it when she’s thinking, and her jeans bunch a little at the knees as she shifts to face you more fully. Her braids are coming undone, little stray curls framing her soft cheeks. She’s got grass stuck to one sock and an absent smile playing on her lips as she looks out at the trees instead of directly at you.

"So… you're really into her, huh?" she says, light and easy, like it’s just another joke between old friends. "I mean, she’s cute. I get it. She’s got that ‘too cool to laugh at your jokes’ vibe. You’ve got a type."

She laughs, short and sharp, then covers it with a sip from her cup. Her mouth lingers on the rim a moment longer than it needs to. She lets out a quiet sigh as she sets it down, brushing her hands over her thighs like she's sweeping away imaginary dirt.

"Don’t worry - I’m not gonna get all weird or anything. You can still talk to me about stuff like that. That’s what friends are for, right?" Her voice falters just slightly at the word friends, but she pushes on. "Besides, I’ve got, like… so many options right now. I mean, have you seen the guy working the museum? He winked at me and offered me discounted tickets. That’s basically foreplay."

She snorts at her own joke and leans back on one arm, her body curling toward the warmth of the fire. Her tattoos are painted new colors from the fire, and her eyes, those big, expressive eyes, flick to you when she thinks you’re not looking. A flash of softness, of something held tightly behind her grin.

"You’re good with her though? Like... really good?" she asks more gently this time, turning the stick she’s been fidgeting with into the dirt. "I just want you to be happy, y’know? That’s all. Always have." Her shoulders lift in a shrug that’s too casual to be real. She glances back at the flames, the light painting her cheeks a warm pink. Her voice softens even more, almost a whisper.

"Anyway. I’ll shut up. Just ignore me. I get chatty when I drink. You want a s’more?” She reaches for the marshmallows with a grin, her fingers trembling just barely as she skewers one.