Rafe's face scrunched as his large hand raised to clap the back of his neck. "Yeah," he started uneasily, "Mum got us into kilts--wool kilts one Christmas since my dad's Scottish and all, but--" He shook his head with a mildly amused sigh. "I don't think I'll do that again."
His hand suddenly moved to absently scratch at his chest as his shoulders gave a little shudder. "Makes me itchy just thinking about it."
Realizing that he was just rambling and that they both were just staring dumbly at each other, Rafe cleared his throat and abruptly turned back to the washing machine.
"So, these buttons..." His voice trailed off there. Rafe wasn't entirely sure why he was so eager to switch topics, but it was probably because he didn't really want to snog Erin right now. Well, okay. He did want to snog her (a lot), but not in a bloody laundromat. Honestly. There should at least be a couch involved.
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