A Gay Vibe From Me?

Chapter 2

The younger detective that Olivia so coldly used to call "Rollins" is currently and very stubbornly fighting against the weather at Central Park as she is running with her beloved dog, Frannie. Amanda allows for a slight, boastful smirk to sneak across her face, proud of herself for being able to handle the miserable and everlasting snow and still maintain some semblance of warmth. She is huddled underneath many layers: a fuzzy, sporty jacket over a new drawstring hoodie, yoga pants that are glued to her pale, sticky skin, and her ears snuggled underneath a thick Nike headband. Completely out of breath, Amanda decides to stop underneath a tree with large branches to shield Frannie and herself from the snow. The younger detective removes her right thumb from her glove for only a split second to unlock her phone with her fingerprint. "Son of a bitch," she whispers, disappointed and frustrated that Olivia has still neglected to text her back, the time now close to noon.

"Frannie," Amanda implores to her fatigued dog, knowing just how she appears to the few other people braving the cold weather today, "do you think Liv is still sleeping? She would never sleep in this late. Usually she texts back right away." Frannie's body jolts in alarm as she looks up to meet her owner's worried face; her big, brown eyes shifting from startled to concerned.

"Frannie," the younger woman adds, "do you think she's ignoring me? I know I was a pain to deal with last week, I was just worried for her, I swear my motives were clear!" She goes on, "I thought we were ok and everything seemed normal at work after Cassidy left, God, I hope she's okay, God, what I would do if something happened to her?"

Amanda has secretly felt frustrated with her boss since last week; a sharp contrast with the pure infatuation she held for Olivia even before leaving Atlanta and moving to New York to work with her, and the unabated crush that formed the first time they met. It could be a tinge of jealousy still dwelling within her since Olivia just so recently dated and broke up with Tucker, but the younger woman is feeling nothing short of judgmental for how lovingly Olivia treated Cassidy when he abruptly decided to plunge back into her life as soon as he messed up his own again. Frannie is now currently pacing back and forth as much as her leash will allow, taking turns between sniffing the snow-covered roots of the tree and nudging her cold, wet nose against Amanda's calves; she is quite obviously feeling impatient with her owner, who is physically present, but miles away mentally.

"Hold on, girl, Mama's thinking..." Amanda verbalizes, before drifting off into the depths of her latent memory yet again, eyes opened but glassy, staring out into space. Frannie whines gently, and then promptly decides to take up residence on the snowy ground, spreading her paws wide in a stretch before drifting off into a light slumber, anticipating that her mother will be thinking for quite some time.

Amanda just can't seem to wrap her head around why Olivia felt the need to help Cassidy. They broke up; she moved on; it should be as simple as that. Amanda doesn't speak to any of her exes, let alone allow them to stay at her place while they're possibly wanted for murder. The only ex she would ever consider speaking to again is the endearing Declan Murphy; although she never loved him, Amanda feels connected to Murphy in a sense that he just gets her. Even if he did pop back up, though, she would probably do what she does best: ignore it and wait for it to go away.

The younger detective briefly chastises herself for allowing her thoughts to gravitate toward such judgment, but she can't help it. She is precipitously reminded of what her sponsor from GA (Gamblers Anonymous)  always says to her, in that shrill and omniscient tone.

"we can't control our first thought; only our second thought, and therefore our actions." Amanda awakens out of her daze from the sound of her own voice angrily mocking her sponsor's words.

A fleeting consideration of dropping Frannie off at home and sprinting as fast as she can to the nearest casino unwelcomingly projects itself into the younger detective's already spinning mind, but she wards off this thought by using her sponsor's relentless suggestion she was mocking only moments prior. It has also been four long years since Amanda has stepped foot into such an establishment, or gambled at all, and she is not willing to let a coward such as Brian Cassidy break her hard-earned sobriety. Amanda knows she should be calling, or at least texting her sponsor to let her know how she is feeling, especially since the thought of gambling so freely entered her mind, but she just really doesn't feel speaking to another human being today, unless that human's name is Lieutenant Olivia Benson. Amanda decides that she needs to keep running. She needs to run even faster than before.

"Sorry Frannie, we're going to head back out soon, hope you're prepared to pick up the pace!" she states to the now deeply slumbering dog, without even noticing that she is straight up talking to herself. The younger detective blinks her eyes rapidly to remove the effects of staring into the cold for so long; she reaches into her jacket pocket, and removes her thumb from her glove one more time to see if she has any missed texts or calls or emails or social media notifications from Olivia.

Nothing.

"Fuck," she mutters, "Frannie, let's go." The peaceful animal needs a short moment to gather her bearings before she is out-of-her-mind excited again, tail wagging, tongue out, panting with enthusiasm to start running again. They run through the rest of their usual loop, Amanda's legs pumping furiously, snow beating off of her clothing, sweat dripping from her pale forehead onto her swelling lips, until they are finally back home.

The time on Amanda's still empty iPhone reads 4:04 pm. She has showered, changed into a fresh pair of yoga pants and a clean hoodie, and has spent the remainder of her afternoon attempting to stress clean her apartment from top to bottom, with many intervals of checking her phone that is now set at full volume in-between. Frannie is clearly exhausted from the intense remainder of their run; she is now resting comfortably atop Amanda's lap on the worn-out couch that is plagued with copious amounts of dog hair.

The anxiety threatening to overcome Amanda's entire being is rising at an alarming rate. She pushes Frannie's head aside and strides toward the kitchen.

"It's 5 o'clock somewhere, right?" Amanda shamefully mutters to herself, as she pulls out a stale bottle of beer from her barren fridge. She gulps down as much liquid as she physically can, feeling the cold yet disgusting substance falling down her gullet and into her stomach, providing her with an effortless sense of relief.

"Shit..." she mutters, "I should probably eat someth-" and immediately cuts herself off as her eardrums are pierced with the sound of her phone screeching. She is so thrilled that she nearly drops the bottle out of her hand as she struggles to get to her phone, which is now so inconveniently placed across the apartment.

The screen is still lit up when she arrives. The blonde detective lets out a heavy sigh she wasn't aware she was holding, when she sees Fin's name splattered across the screen.

"FUCK! What the fuck!" she screams, awaking Frannie, who is already coming to her owner's rescue. Blinking through the frustrated tears falling from her already swollen eyes, the younger detective is able to decipher Fin's message:

"Hey girl, what you up to tonight? Carisi and I are both single and lonely and have nothing to do. It's Saturday. Please don't make me spend the entire evening alone with him."

Amanda's mind immediately floods with the suggestions from the people in GA: "if you feel like isolating, you need to be around people." "God dammit," she mutters, as she reluctantly texts back, still resolute with the fact that she will not allow someone like Brian Cassidy to jeopardize her sobriety.

"Where should I meet y'all?"