By the time Geoff took off for his fat-cat Eastern university again, Diana was almost glad to see him go. They'd been together nearly every day for two weeks and it was beginning to pall; the unending lectures on literature had taken their toll. Constant companionship is quite different from illicit love.
Diana heaved a heavy sigh and sipped her hot chocolate.
"You moping about Geoff again already?" Myrine asked, looking at Diana critically over the front section of the Sunday Oregonian.
"Good. That Geoff is a stuck-up little fart."
"Actually, he's rather big."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do."
"I hope you'll ease up now, Di. Take a break from all these romantic entanglements. I get dizzy just watching you."
"I'm getting tired of it myself."
"I don't need men."
Myrine snorted. "Who do you think you're kidding?" She retreated behind the Oregonian again.
Diana returned her attention to the local section and its gruesome tales of murder, rape and politics, but her mind was elsewhere. It was wandering from Geoff to Adrian and wondering if she had made a mistake. Adrian had said he would think everything over; he would get in touch with her. Okay then, she wasn't about to be the first. She did have her pride. But she would miss his clever, clever hands, the hands of a musician. Maybe she would write him a song.
Or maybe she would just take his advice and look for a new drummer.