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“There’s something to be said about a woman when she’s completely herself.” I press a kiss to her lips.
“Yeah, that she looks awful.” She pouts against my mouth.
I pull back. “Are you that worried about what I think?” I smirk.
“Um, what do you think?” she asks, like it should be that obvious.
“Do you realize that I live in a world where people look one way in magazines and movies and a completely other way when you see them without all the airbrushing and extensions? You… You’re more beautiful now than I’ve ever seen you. Because now I know your beauty isn’t manufactured.”
This renders her speechless for a long moment.
“You are very good with words. Though I guess I’m not the first woman to tell you that.”
“It’s easy to be honest.”
She steps out of my embrace and this time I let her go. Slipping past me, she heads into the living room. I follow closely behind, waiting until she takes a seat on the couch before joining her.
“Then be honest.” She shifts, angling her body so she’s facing me. “What are we doing here?”
I almost make another joke…Almost.
“That’s hard to answer.”
“Is it?” She arches a brow.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask. “If I say I want to keep things casual and see how it goes, then you think I’m not serious. If I say I want to stick a ring on your finger, then you think I’ve lost my mind. If I say it’s just sex, then you’ll likely end it all together. So, tell me, Hamilton, what’s the right answer here?”
“Is it just sex?” She seems embarrassed to ask the question.
“No, not for me.”
Even if it were just sex, I wouldn’t say so, obviously. But as it turns out, it isn’t for me, at least not anymore. And yes, I get that I was forced into this situation, but suddenly nothing about this feels fake. In fact, it feels terrifyingly real. And, all I want is more.
I’m not accustomed to feeling this way…Ever.
“Are you sleeping with other people?” she asks.
“Are you?” I suddenly feel jealous in a way that makes me feel pathetic as fuck. I hadn’t even considered that she could be sleeping with someone else.
“I think you know the answer to that, considering you can count my sexual partners on one hand and I’m almost thirty.” She rolls her eyes, exasperated.
“I’m not, either.” Another truth.
What do you know?
And what’s even more surprising is that even if Kat hadn’t clipped my nuts for the foreseeable future, I still wouldn’t want to sleep with anyone other than Clarke right now.
Trust me, I’m just as surprised. I can’t say that’s ever happened to me before. At least, not since Brandy.
I internally shudder at the thought of having to work with her. I signed the contract today and have been in knots about it since. And while the script is not as bad as I thought, in the sense that Brandy and I have a lot less scenes together than I anticipated, based on the age of the characters over the timeline, I’m still not feeling great about it. Probably why I tried my luck with showing up here. I knew seeing Clarke would make things feel less bleak, and I was right.
“So, are we exclusive then?” She nibbles on her lower lip. “As in, as long as we’re sleeping with each other, we won’t be sleeping with anyone else.”
“I can agree to that.”
“And then from there…” She leaves it hanging.
“We’ll just see where it goes.”
