Up close, I am very much a stranger to anything more than a kiss in a music video. And I’ve kept it that way. For many good reasons.Flirtingis on brand.Flirtinggets me attention.Flirtingmeans nothing, and I never let it go anywhere, because I’m not comfortable with the idea of where it could go.
I’m not comfortable with the idea of baring myself to anyone.
I’m not comfortable with the knowledge that I might want someone thatbadly…while they might not be able to satiate my beast by wanting me badly enough in return.
Looking at Clara right now feels illegal, unnerving, enticing,terrifying.
And I believe I might just be teetering on the edge of thatwant.
Cautious, I rise and demand the beast in me be tame for this precious woman. Wetting my lips, I hook a finger in the fabric of her clothes and pull it away from her skin, so she won’t have to deal with the sensation of my fingers meddling against her. “Poor cupcake,” I murmur as I fiddle. “I could have zipped you up.”
I, actually, could not have.
I would have, surely, passed out.
Her skin prickles when she shivers. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was stupid.”
“Hey, now. Don’t talk like that.” I get the catch free and survive the hard part of gliding it down, down, down, revealing…wow.Her. I look quite firmly anywhere else as I let go ofeverything having to do with anything that involves clothes coming off of Clara. “You’re very smart,” I tell her, while telling myselfno, no kisses. None. Not even one. We’re looking at the floor, aren’t we? That’s averyunkissable floor, isn’t it? Except…that’s a floor that she’s walked on…so maybe it’s the slightest bit kissable?
No.Be gone, foul thoughts.
Containing myself in a highly professional manner, I say, “Smart girls learn from mistakes, don’t they?”
I am such a hypocrite, because I know full wellsmart boysdon’t bring angels home, assuming their will power is strong enough to hold in the face of majesty.
Shy, she turns, holding the top of her slipping dress up. “Yes?”
My heart trips on the sight, and I’m not sure when I stopped looking at the floor, but I find myself unwittingly etching all that she is into my brain.
Even though she’s struggling to answer questions without more questions again.
The poor thing is never sure of herself.
Never confident.
She’s so…
Broken.
And it makes me want to hurt whoever has broken her.
Curling a finger beneath her chin, I make her look up and revel in the sensation of her eyes on me. I murmur, “Smart girls learn from mistakes, so while you try on everything else, you’ll ask me for help if you need it, right?”
Heat warms her cheeks, and she nods.
“Good.”
When she returns to the dressing room, I sink back into my seat, fiddle with my phone, and abandon social media to rest my head against the wall instead.
Come on, Lukas. Pull yourself together.
She’s just a pretty girl.
A very, very pretty girl.
One you want to put in your pocket and carry around, but shouldn’t.
I sigh and stare at the ceiling, waiting helplessly to be summoned while my thoughts beat me up inside.
