twenty-five | reconciliation doesn't sell

(@dionnestanley via instagram stories!)

viewed by reecewalsh.

viewed by timotheeofficial.

THE PASSAGE OF TIME WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING LOOKED AT IN HINDSIGHT, NEVER NOTICED AT THE TIME. Literal weeks had passed since that night at Felons—enough so that the memory wasn't forced on her every-time she passed Timothee and his purple eye anymore, it'd long since healed. Though, she'd half expected him to draw the wound on with all the fuss the receptionists had made over him. Gag Dionne with a spoon.

Doing the sit down interview with him had broken the ice, meaning their conversations could happen off the screen. This opened the flood gates for him to invite her to his fancy Burleigh Heads house on the weekends; it was almost routine at this point, not that she'd tell him she waited by the phone every Sunday for the invite. The frustrating traffic on the M1 wasn't enough to deter her every week even with her excessive road rage.

Her visit seemed to follow the same structure every week. She'd get there around 11am, he'd jump straight in her car—already dressed (or undressed) for the beach. Dionne would fight for her life to find a park near the beach and Patty would laugh at the shades of red her face would turn whenever she had to do an intricate reverse park. She would tell him it's not funny as she pulled the keys from the ignition. They'd then go and sit on the sand for a bit, soaking up the Gold Coast sun until their skin turned golden. Patty would flick same at Dionne until she'd retaliate and put some in his hair. This would then result in him flinging her over his shoulders and dunking them both in the water. They'd both pretend not to be checking out each others half naked bodies—it was less awkward this way, being just friends.

Hours would pass and when they'd get eventually tired of the beach, Dionne would throw him her keys and her drive them back to his. She'd never expected a footy player from Burleigh to be such a good cook but Patty would always make them something scrumptious. Dionne would pretend a man cooking for her wasn't the most attractive thing possible to her.

When the food was done, they'd settle on his couch—not touching, of course (this was an unspoken rule)—in fresh clothes and wet hair to watch a movie. It didn't really matter what movie was on, they'd talk through the whole thing anyways. They'd sneak glances at each other during kiss scenes, both imagining what it'd be like to cross that bridge again. But they were comfortable in their routine, complicating things again would only lead to trouble.

"Fuck," Patty laughed, "what's even happening in this again?" He'd turned away from their debate on Gold Coast and Brisbane living to look at the large TV mounted on the wall.

Dionne peered over her knees that she'd brought up to her chest. "I think they're breaking up?"

"They're breaking up everytime I look at the screen," Patty replied, putting his empty plate on the coffee table in front of them.

Dionne scoffed. "Well, maybe you should look at it more consistently and you'd know why."

"Says you," he retorted, rolling his eyes.

"You're distracting me," she insisted, her home whining.

Patty shook his head. "You pick bad movies."

"You picked this one!"

The footy player grinned, stroking his moustache in mock ponderous anticipation. "Hm, I don't recall. Sounds fake."

Dionne narrowed her eyes. "I'll hit you," she warned him.

He faked shock, throwing his muscular arms in the air. "Domestic violence!"

"Please, it'd probably hurt me more then you," she admitted, rolling her eyes as she inspected her closed fist. Punching anywhere on his toned body would probably result in a fracture to her hand that she needed to write. "I'll just write an article about how you're bullying me instead."

"You see," Patty said, "The thing is, I know you might."

This made her laugh. "Never let 'em know your next move."

Just then, cutting through the momentary silence, Dionne's phone started loudly ringing. Unfortunately, she couldn't ignore it, she knew what custom ringtone that was. As she stood up to take the call, Patty watched her with confusion. She walked out to his balcony and pressed accept. "Why are you calling me on a Sunday?"

She was met with heavy breathing on the other end of the line. "Work doesn't wait for the calendar to say it's a work day," Timothee told her, his words sounding a little slurred together.

"What do you want?" She tried not to sound to annoyed on the line but she couldn't help it, he'd just put a damper on a really nice day by calling.

"I've let you work too independently the last few weeks," he told her, "you've killed the suspense."

"What are you on about?" Dionne felt exasperated.

"Publicly being fuck buddies with that Carrigan prick, people aren't clicking to see if you're going to shade each other anymore. You killed the main drive for engagement," Timothee rambled and Dionne felt like hanging up on him.

"First of all, we don't sleep together—we're friends. I know male-female friendships are something you struggle with keeping platonic but not everyone has the same issues as you," she snapped. "And secondly, this couldn't be an email?"

"Watch how you speak to me, Dionne. You're replaceable at this company," he seethed.

His words were as sharp as a knife but made her feel like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on her. The idea of him firing her for talking back had never once crossed her mind—technically that wouldn't really be unfair dismissal, she supposed.

"You need to go back to shit talking him at every possible opportunity again. It's the only way people are going to care."

After the phone call ended, Dionne didn't go back inside right away. She stared out at his expensive ocean view and just thought. The brunette hadn't noticed their views going down, for the first time in a long time she'd been focused on her life outside of work. She'd actually felt fulfilled for once.

"Oi," Patty calls from inside.

She sticks her head back in. "What?"

He was holding his phone, clearly reading a text from someone. "Wanna go to a party tonight?"

A smile crept onto her face and she nodded, excited. Fuck Timothee, she would worry about what he said come Monday. For now, she was going to enjoy her twenties again.

💌

💌 karla yaps !

we're getting into the final arc !!!! woohoo