Like everything that has ever happened between you and Cara, your conversation back at your house days ago has been buried. Not forgotten. Simply buried. Hidden just like it never happened.
One uneventful night, as part of the usual routine, you take her home.
It’s raining heavily – also something that as begun to feel repetitive – so you’re having a hard time knowing what’s in front of you. Thankfully, by now, you know the roads by heart.
When you reach the street she lives in, you hear her ask, “Do you mind waiting for a bit? Just until the rain calms down a little.”
"Of course not."
You park your car, as always, a couple of houses away from hers.
"I’ve lived in London my whole life and I don’t remember the last time it rained this hard." She mumbles, jaw trembling a little as she rubs her palms together in search of heat.
"Are you cold?" You dumbly ask, not waiting for her answer to turn the heat on.
You lock eyes for a moment before you smile bashfully and look away. She’s got those kind of pretty eyes that make it hard to look into. It’s like every time you look at her, something swells inside of you, and every time she dares to lock eyes with you, that something nears its bursting point and you’re not sure you want to know what happens if it does burst.
You feel a very welcoming heat fill the car and it’s only then you realize how cold you actually were.
"Do you want to come in?" She sort of blurts out, "I don’t want you to drive while it’s raining like this. And, besides, I’m home alone so you could keep me company for a little bit.” A pause. Then she inhales sharply before carrying on, “I understand if you want to go because you’re always so busy–"
(You think you can squeeze her in your busy timetable.)
You want to think of reasons not to say yes – and you do think of quite a few – but, for once, you ignore them completely. The voice at the back of your head stays quiet as well. It is consent to you.
"Just for a little bit, though, ‘cause it’s nearly one in the morning, okay?" Your voice is soft, but her eager nods are enough for you to know she’s heard you.
She opens the door just a crack when you make her halt with a loud, “Wait!”
You hop off your car to get the umbrella, which, stupidly of yourself, you keep in the trunk, even if you do use it most days of the week. By the time you open the passenger door, your hair’s already drenched. But you’d do it again if it meant you got to see the faint blush on her cheeks.
She mumbles a shy, “Thank you.”, and you mumble a shy, “You’re welcome”.
She guides you in her house, asking you if you’d like to have anything to drink or to eat – to which you politely decline – and then she leads you upstairs and takes you to her room.
"This is where the magic happens." She cutely announces as she turns on the light, revealing a very disorganized room, “Or doesn’t happen, really.”
There are clothes everywhere.
"Wow," You mumble, smirking, "You’re messy."
She pokes her tongue out at you after closing a window and pulling the curtains together.
"This is as tidy as my room can get." She jokes, kicking scattered clothes into piles on the floor.
She urges you in and closes the door behind you. Something in you tingles, probably trying to bring you to the awareness that you are confined in the room of a woman whom you’d cheat on your boyfriend with if the situation was to arise.
(You sort of have already.)
You’re distracted when you see a bra hanging off of the computer screen on the desk. You smirk.
"I don’t want to imagine it when you consider it untidy."
She blushes a bright red when she realizes what you’re looking at. Your smirk falls when she mutters, “That’s not mine.”
There’s a weird silence as she gets it and throws it somewhere in the closet. You wonder whom it belongs to.
"Do you want a towel for your hair?" She asks when the room’s a bit more presentable.
You take your coat off and hang it on a chair, eyes following her until she disappears in a room that you can only guess to be the bathroom. As soon as she comes out, she clumsily throws you a white towel that you catch just before it hits your face.
"Good reflexes." She huskily compliments.
You very smugly smirk as you tilt your head to a side so you can properly dry your long hair. You start blushing self-consciously when you feel her eyes on you, watching you.
She clears her throat, suddenly, and starts taking off her sneakers. You feel like you can finally breathe without her eyes on you. She gets up, back turned to you as she looks for something in the closet.
You’ve slowed down your doings, curious to what she’s up to.
She throws a pair of comfortable looking pajama bottoms on the bed. When she goes for the button on her jeans, you realize what she’s doing. You blush furiously. You want to turn around but you’re aware if you do so you’ll be making things a hundred times more awkward.
Now you’re the one watching her. And you’re trying so very hard to be subtle, but when creamy white, long thighs come into view, you nearly loose balance. Right now, everything else is black and there’s a light pointing to a changing Cara, trousers pooling around her ankles, very slowly stepping off of them.
You can’t help the little chuckle that escapes your lips when you see her kicking her discarded trousers to a pile of clothes nearby.
She locks eyes with you, face serene, smile soft.
But then everything becomes awfully serious again.
She’s half naked, looking at you like she wants to fuck you (or is that yourself?) and you want nothing more than to throw her on the bed and devour her with gentle kisses.
And then, amidst of all of these perverted thoughts of yours, she takes her shirt off, turning around as she does so.
You’re not sure what colour your cheeks are at this precise moment but you’re thankful she can’t see them.
She starts getting dressed. Her never-ending legs disappear underneath fabric but you still have time to memorize her back. Your eyes stop on the dimples at the end of it and you can’t look away. You want to feel them with the tips of your fingers.
(Trace her spine with your lips.)
You awake from your deep trance when she throws on a sweater very familiar to you. It is yours, after all.
"I really like this sweatshirt." She mumbles as she turns around, breaking the silence.
"You can keep it." You put the towel down, feeling like your hair’s dry enough already, "It looks good on you."
She smiles rather bashfully.
"Do you want to change into something more comfortable?"
"No. I’m alright."
You’re left staring at each other from across the room. Your hands are on the back pockets of your trousers and hers keep tugging at the string of her pajama bottoms.
Out of the blue, she once again speaks over the dull sound of rain hitting the window, “Do you like weed?”
You’re light and warm. But it’s not that you were cold before. It’s just that you’re somehow feeling warmer than usual. Warm hands. Warm toes. Warm heart. At one point you this feeling of warmness is so extreme your currently free self allows you to take your shirt off.
Your conscience is screaming at you that your torso’s clad in your bra before Cara. But, Lord, does she beautiful pretty tonight. You watch her through clear eyes, even if you’re sure the air’s a bit foggy with all of the smoke the spliff that is now between her fingers is generating.
There’s music in the background and it sounds so good to you right now. You really do feel like getting up and loose yourself in it, but you’re also aware you’re so high your limbs have turned into jelly for the moment.
You let your hands rest behind your torso, propping your fluttering body. You realize your eyes have been closed for a little bit now when you hear Cara speaking.
"Are you okay?" She asks. Her voice is like honey to you. Sweet, sweet honey.
"I’m wonderful." You reply through a lazy smile, eyes half opening to see her staring at you with a face similar to yours.
Her eyes look so blue. Even with this cloud of smoke you can see there’s a glint on them with a meaning you can’t be bothered to figure out. You really want to kiss each of her eyelids, but she looks so fragile. Your lips are like a hammer. You don’t want to shatter her into a million pieces.
Instead of passing you the joint, she decides to kneel between your shamelessly spread legs and hold it between your lips.
Maybe it’s your high that throws your inhibitions out of the window, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s probably related to some snake headed mythological creature and once you’ve locked eyes with her, you turn into stone – but, either way, you stare into her bright blue orbs as you take a long drag off of it, letting it burn your throat and fill your lungs, taking you a little bit higher again.
You delicately blow out the smoke in her face, watching her slowly close her eyelids as it hits her.
When you’re done, she reaches back and sets the joint on an ashtray she keeps on the bedside table.
You give in to your urges.
The muscles on her bare stomach are heightened like this. You boldly rest a hand on it, sliding it from her navel to the beginning of her bra. She’s so warm, so soft, so gentle under your calloused touch.
And then, she turns her head forward and looks at you, eyes darker than ever. Your hand falls to her hipbone and now you’re not sure what to do, even if you do know what’s going to happen next.
Her hands thread through your hair and push it back. You close your eyes. Her touch feels better than anything else in the world. When you open them again, you realize she’s got closer to you. You see the tiniest of freckles just above her bellybutton. Or maybe it’s your eyes that fool you. Maybe there is no freckle. Maybe you just need an excuse to kiss her stomach. So you lean down and as best as you can, you press your lips to her navel.
The grip she has on you tightens.
Her skin feels so terribly sublime against yours.
You nearly utter three forbidden words that would make everything a million times more complicated, but you stop yourself in time of saying them aloud. You part your lips and whisper them, making sure your voice is so low you can’t even hear them yourself.
(Maybe this way you can pretend you never said them.)
She gently pulls you back, tilting your head to hers. She holds your face between her hands and leans down until your noses are bumping against one another.
There’s a quiet song playing in your head and it’s drowning the voice of reason within you. You think maybe if it wanted to be heard, it’d speak louder.
"What are you waiting for?" You whisper, nuzzling the tip of your nose with hers.
The hand you’d left on her hipbone slides upwards, grazing over her bra and then continuing its journey until it stops at the back of her neck. You effortlessly pull her to you, resting your parted lips on hers.
That feeling of a billion newborn butterflies erupting across your stomach comes back after a dry spell that lasted four dreadful years. You don’t know why you’ve waited this long to kiss this woman. You should’ve kissed her when you took her home the first time. You’ve been missing out on so much.
You kiss her upper lip.
You pull away.
You kiss her bottom lip.
You pull away.
You press your lips to hers, this time fitting them perfectly together. Your heart races when you feel her thumbs caressing your cheeks and her lips parting until your mouths come together like a puzzle.
But then she’s gone.
You’re left whimpering, eyes closed, lips puckered. You slowly open them, afraid that everything that has just happened was product of your imagination. But Cara’s still there and her hands are still on you. Her breath hits your lips – it feels heavenly.
“Are you going to run away from me again?” She asks in a whisper, eyes a little sad.
You never feel the pang of surprise you maybe should’ve felt now that she’s explicitly revealed to you that she remembers. You pull her head down to meet yours and kiss her very softly.
“Say it aloud.” She mumbles against your lips.
You peck her before pushing yourself away from her so you can kneel before her, just like she’s kneeling before you. You bring your bodies together, stomachs against one another. You nearly forget what she’s asked you, wondering if she’ll let you shed the rest of your clothes so you can feel all of her.
“Please,” Her voice cracks as she pleads to you, “I need to hear it.”
You hold her face in your hands, stomach fluttering because you don’t think you’ve ever held something as delicate as her before. It’s not that you don’t think she’s superwoman – it’s just that your touch is so harsh and she’s so soft and so gentle.
You press a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m not leaving. I’m not. I promise.”
A part of you was afraid that once you came down from your high, the weight of guilt would be too much to handle and that you’d end up running away and breaking your promise.
It’s half past five in the morning and your feeling of drug-induced ecstasy has worn off, but the natural ecstasy produced by each kiss or tender word keeps cursing through your veins.
“I should go home.” You meaninglessly whisper against her collarbones, dragging your lips across her neck, then onto her chin and finally resting your head on her pillow until the tips of your noses are touching.
She shakes her head and drapes an arm over your torso. Her hand strokes your back. Her touch feels divine. She caresses you so gently it makes you wonder if you’re having some kind of beautiful nightmare you’re going to wake up from anytime soon. But for that you’d have to be sleeping and lately you don’t really know what that is.
“We have to be on set in less than two hours, Cara.” You quietly reason, thumbing her cheek very delicately. When she pouts, you pout as well.
“No. Don’t say my name like that.” She slides her body down until her head’s resting under your chin. Her lips touch your chest and you shiver, “It makes me feel weak.” It makes you grin, “I don’t want to go out there.” She mumbles, tightening the grip she has on you.
You understand her. You have a million problems outside. Here, you have each other and that’s all you need.
You kiss the crown of her hair before she decides to pull herself up again. Her eyes are closed as you touch her hair from the roots to the very tips.
“Your hair is so soft.” You whisper, “And gold. So lovely.” You bring your hand to her neck, feeling her heart beating against your palm, “And your skin is so warm. Like a sunray. But you’re so pale. Like cold marble.” You bring your lips to hers in the most delicate of kisses. You feel a single finger tracing your spine from your neck to the small of your back. You quietly sigh in her ear when she presses herself even closer to you, head resting on yours, “You’re such a beautiful paradox.”
For a few seconds, all you feel is Cara. Her body is against yours. Your nose is buried in her hair. Even your lungs are filled with her scent.
“Is this a one time kind of thing?” She asks, loosening your embrace so she can look into your eyes again. Or so you thought. Her thumb strokes your cheek, occasionally your nose. And her eyes are on the patch of skin she caresses. It’s like if she takes her sight away for a single second she might press to hard and break you.
It’s so wrong that you don’t hesitate to kiss her as soon as she stops talking.
(It feels so right.)
You’re thinking of ways to tell her that you want her and nothing else, but apparently you take too long because in the next second, she’s parting from you, bare torso exposed.
“You regret it don’t you?” Her voice cracks into a whisper.
She gets off of the bed, clad in knickers, body fully on display for you. You don’t see it, instead worrying that she’s got it all wrong. She’s going for your (her) sweatshirt when you leap off the bed as well, wanting to show her your answer.
"This wasn’t a mistake." You whisper in her ear, arms encircling her.
She melts into you.
"You have a boyfriend."
You stay quiet, trying to put back to sleep the monsters she’s awakening in you.
"I want you."
You feel her relax against you. Her hands cover yours and she tries to intertwine them as best as she can.
She’s silent. You can almost hear her mind reeling with urging thoughts. You know she’s wondering if you’ll leave him for her. But she never touches the subject.
"Can we do this again after work?" She asks instead, swaying your bodies from side to side as if there was a ballad playing in the background.
She lets her head fall back and plants a little kiss on your ear. You can almost hear her smiling.
"I’d like that." You admit, tightening your grip on her, "I’d like that a lot."
She lets go of you so she can turn around and put her lips to yours. You smile, happy with where you are right now, and she smiles as well, you hope for the same exact reasons.
"I really should go, now." You mumble when she slides her lips to your jaw. You mean it this time, even if you’d consider postponing this decision if she asked you to.
"Get ready here and then we’ll go together." She says, "We’ll take a shower together and you can borrow some of my clothes."
You’re completely sold.
You can hear the water running and the occasional curse as Cara tries to get the water at an ideal temperature.
She’s in the shower already and you’re overthinking.
It’s stupid, really, because not even half an hour ago you were in her bed, clad in knickers and kissing each other like you’ll be dead by midnight. But now you feel like if you take off this last piece of clothing you’ll have shed all that is left of your integrity.
(The darkest part of your minds scoffs.)
"Are you coming?"
Cara’s voice startles you, but it’s not an abrupt startle – it’s a gentle kind of startle. It’s the kind of startle that reminds you that everything is indeed happening and she’s waiting for you to get under a spray of water with her. It’s a perfect kind of startle.
She’s smiling at you, uncertainly, you think. She’s wrapped in a towel with little birdies printed on it.
You think your heart swells a little bit more. At this rate you’ll need a bigger ribcage to contain it.
You walk towards her, forgetting all about integrity and morals and beings that exist only in your head that make you feel like you’re losing your mind. As soon as you’re a couple of steps away from her, she holds her hand out for you. You take it and give in to the urge to kiss her knuckles.
(The little evil form in you gags at how ridiculously in love with this woman.)
She closes the door. You catch your reflection in the mirror and quickly become aware that your top half is completely naked. You’d forgotten. You blush. Behind you, she lets her towel drop. You blush harder.
"Are you going to wash your hair?" She asks as you look for courage to get rid of your knickers. You lock eyes with her naked self and find her blushing as well.
You shake your head but then lock eyes with your own reflection before inspecting your hair. You swear you see yourself smirking and winking.
"It doesn’t look too bad, does it?" You fix it with your hands, combing your long locks with your thin fingers.
It does look horrible.
"It has seen better days." She says, sly smile on her lips.
You roll your eyes.
"I swear to God I’ll shave my head, someday. No more knots. No more pain. No more anything."
She’s close behind you now, still smiling. Her naked body joins with your back. Her arms wrap around your waist. You stare at her, wondering if you’d have courage to do it had you been her and she’d been you.
"You’re a bit drastic, sometimes." She kisses your shoulder. "If that’s what you really want, then let me shave it." She mumbles against your skin. You smile, growing impossibly fond of her, “But we’ll discuss that later. It’s getting late.”
You pretend you don’t hear her.
But she ends up separating from you. She gets in the fairly large shower. You turn away just before she gets under. You take a deep shaky breath and slip out of the last piece of clothing.
You’re naked before her.
"You’ve got a nice bum."
And just like that, the ice’s broken.
Showering with Cara quickly becomes one of your most preferred things to do with her. There’s a lot of cuddling, a lot of stolen smooches, a lot of bum grabbing – but your absolutely favorite doesn’t happen during.
It happens after she tells you to pick whatever you want to wear from her closet. You’re hearing her telling you all about how she had quite a bit of trouble memorizing today’s lines, when you feel a very flowery scent invading your senses.
You smell like her.
Your mood is impossibly brightened.
She’s by your side, picking clothes for herself, and you’re suddenly hit by a wave of happiness in knowing she’s right beside you, not even caring that you’re nearly naked, acting like you’ve been doing this for a thousand years.
You focus on her profile, watching her lips move, hearing her slight lisp and how she pronounces certain words, wanting to tuck that naughty strand of hair behind her ear.
"You’re distracting me." She mumbles, cheeks heating.
You feel momentarily smug as you turn to the absolute mess inside her closet. She loses track of what she’s saying, so she sighs. You smile, adoring this newfound power of yours.
"Do you need help?" She asks from behind you.
To your surprise – and slight dismay – she’s dressed already and drying her hair with the towel you’d had yours wrapped up in.
You nod and she’s quick to come to your rescue.
She holds up a million sweaters to you and you like them all. You like them all because you’ve seen them on her and you like Cara in anything. You bet she looks pretty in the most hideous of clothes.
She picks a cute white jumper for you and then she ends up putting it on for you, as well.
"You look incredibly hot." She says after whistling approvingly.
You smirk, paying no mind to your heating cheeks.
"That’s because I look like yourself."
You shake your head disapprovingly. Then, you stare at her lips. You want them on yours. It hits you that there’s nothing stopping you. You step closer to her, effortlessly pull her to you and kiss her smugness away.
There’s a soft smile permanently engraved on your lips as you drive to work. It’s odd for you to be sporting such a genuine smile at seven in the morning. But the only explanation for this nearly supernatural occurrence is that you’ve never been happy at seven in the morning, and today you are.
Nothing’s changed, yet everything is different.
You’re still you, and she’s still Cara. You’re one and she’s another. There’s no plural – at least not yet. But that’s exactly what makes you feel good about everything that has happened, because until days ago, there wasn’t a yet. Your heart ached for her and maybe it still does, but now it’s a good kind of ache – it’s a hopeful ache.
You’re stopped at a red light.
Cara’s singing along to some song in the background and she’s been using her thighs as drums. You’re watching her through the corner of your eye, finding the whole situation incredibly cute and somewhat amusing.
“Not bad, Delevingne.”
She turns to you, smug grin on her face, and then she bows as best as she can. You chuckle as the light turns green. When you start moving, a humid kiss is unexpectedly placed on your cheek. And then a tumultuous giggle erupts from you.
You can’t help it.
Your body is overflowing with joy.
You’re the last to get to set.
You park your car and unbuckle your seatbelt, but you do it without any kind of rush. Once you step out into the world, you’ll have to remember you cannot kiss Cara or hold hands with her or anything. You’ll have to be blind and pretend you don’t see Leon fighting for her affection.
Something sinks inside of you.
“Have lunch with me, today.” She quietly breaks the silence.
You look at your lap, smile returning. And then you look at her. You nod.
“My trailer? I can steal you a couple of smooches, then.” You cheekily tell her, starting feel a bit bolder towards her.
Cara grins and nods, as well. She turns on her seat and brings her hand to the back of your neck. Guessing what she’s proposing, you tense up.
“The windows are tinted.”
They better be, you think as you lean in. She meets you halfway. Her lips graze yours ever so delicately, and then she’s pulling away. You’re left yearning for more.
She goes for the handle, opening the door just a crack. Desperate, you pull her to you by the back of her neck, pressing your lips to hers with the right amount of gentleness.
When you feel her lips stretching and forming a smile, you know this was her intention all along.
It’s ten in the AM when you decide to take a twenty-minute break. You’re tired from having not slept. You take small sips off of your hot coffee, alternating with taking slow drags off of the cigarette between your fingers, thinking about the exact reasons why you didn’t get any sleep.
“What are you smiling for?”
Anthony flops down on the chair beside yours, arrogant expression on his face.
“I had a really good dream, last night.” You lie, absentmindedly touching your lips whilst reminiscing.
“A sex dream?”
He grimaces. He changes subject after that, saying something about some flick that’s just come out and that he really needs someone to see it with him. You think you nod when he asks you if you’ll go with him, but right then you see Cara and Leon emerging from God knows where. Your insides pit when you see her smiling at him like she wasn’t kissing you just hours ago.
And it’s dumb, because you don’t have the right to be jealous like this.
She’s not yours. You’re nothing.
Cara locks eyes with you, still smiling. It’s a different kind of smile, though. Or maybe it’s her eyes that change. Maybe she doesn’t look at Leon like she looks at you.
That little thought makes you feel safer, somehow.
She must tell him something to do with you or with Anthony, because next thing you know she’s confidently walking towards you and Leon’s left behind.
“Good morning.” She chirpily greets your best friend with a raspy, heavenly voice when she reaches you, but her eyes keep flicking to yours.
“Do you want to sit down?” You dumbly ask, getting up as you do so.
She shakes her head, smile never once faltering. You want to kiss her so bad, there and then. Just a tiny little peck because she looks so kissable right now. You sit back down, blush on your cheeks under Anthony’s curious stare.
“I was telling her all about this new film with Johnny Depp and how she should come watch it with me but instead she’s thinking about a sex dream she had last night.”
Your blush deepens as you roll your eyes.
“You had a sex dream, last night?” Cara asks, turning her attention to you.
Her eyebrows are raised and she’s smirking.
“It wasn’t a sex dream.” You defend yourself. But then your voice gets quieter, “It was just a really good dream. The best, actually.”
“That’s funny,” She starts, chuckling before going on, “I had a really good dream last night, too. Seemed too good to be true.”
You share knowing smiles before you look down, trying your best not to grin like a fool. You try focusing on the script in your hands, but she’s right there and, well, you really don’t have to explain anything else. You pull the sweater you’re wearing up to your nose, letting the vague scent of her invade your senses.
“Is Friday okay for you?”
You’re pulled from your peaceful state of mind by Anthony’s voice.
“Okay for what?”
He rolls his eyes. Cara chuckles and subtly comes closer to you, letting an arm rest on the back of your chair. She should just sit on your lap and kiss you for hours.
“Johnny Depp, Friday? Me and Cara, you and Lee?”
You swear you feel her grip tightening behind you.
“You know Lee’s in Japan ‘til December.” You quietly remind him, wishing Cara wasn’t listening to this conversation. If she cares for you as much as you care for her, hearing his name must be killing her.
“Right. I forgot. You, Cara and I, then. Just us girls.” He assertively says, getting up and then leaving the scene without letting you say anything else.
Cara pulls his chair closer to yours and sits down, knees touching yours.
“He’s such a cliché, sometimes.” You mumble, rolling your eyes.
You’re left staring at each other, sharing meaningful looks.
You steal a glance at your watch. Two more hours and then you can fake a headache and take her to your trailer, lock the door behind you and kiss her silly.
"It’d be nice, you know, to go the movies with you." You lowly start, a very soft blush on yours cheeks, "Like on a date."
She blushes as well, bashfully smiling. You’re feeling incredibly silly for feeling this giddy over a date with Cara. Yet, you can’t lie how much you’d like to spend two hours in the dark, holding her hand.
"But Anthony’s going as well." She says, a little pout on her bottom lip. "I’d prefer it if we were alone."
You pull your lips to one side of your face, genuinely disappointed that you can’t go out with Cara without it having to be in secret.
(You’re the one with the power to make it happen. It all depends on you.)
You don’t know what’s on Cara’s mind, but whatever it is, you’re certain it is slowly consuming her.
She’s never messed up so many lines like today. She’s told you she had a bit of trouble memorizing them, but you don’t think that’s the problem here. It’s like she’s not completely focused on this. She’s the only actress you’ve worked with that makes of this her entire world. Today she’s elsewhere.
You start getting a headache close to lunch break. You guess you won’t have to fake it, after all.
You tell Anthony that after lunch you’re going to take a pill, try to nap for a couple of hours and that you’ll start filming around five, to which he nods and then proceeds to spread the word.
From experience, you know most people won’t stay on set. And the ones who do will probably stay in their respective trailers or wherever – you don’t care, for as long as they don’t bother you.
You don’t know what happened to Cara’s “Have lunch with me, today?”. You stare at her from afar, like so many times before, because she’s decided that her today is different than yours. Maybe you heard it wrong. Or maybe you did something wrong. Or said something wrong. You don’t know. You certainly don’t understand it.
You’re playing with the food on your plate, which consists of a sandwich and chips, trying to find will in you to eat it, when you hear coos coming from the corner.
A few of the actors are completely focused on how Cara’s feeding chips to Leon. She’s literally taking them to his mouth, smiling like a mad woman. And then he does the same. It awfully reminds you of a couple of newlyweds at a wedding reception, feeding each other cake.
Sick to your stomach, eyes green from jealousy, skin a shade of the same colour because you truly feel like you could throw up, you get up and stalk to your trailer.
You close the door behind you with more strength than necessary. You’re sort of disappointed it didn’t make the same thudding sound a wooden door would. It would’ve been a bit more dramatic and the situation begged for it.
Your life right now is completely full of little dramas here and there. And the biggest of them all is that temptress outside, asking you if you could get together after work for a tender, slightly erotic session of snuggling and making out, yet she’s feeding – and giggling whilst she does so – a boy that she’s (also) involved with.
(You wonder how many more there are besides you and him.)
A knock on the door snaps you out of your angry thoughts. You realize you’ve been standing on the same spot, staring at the carpeted floor but not seeing it. Still thinking that all she wants is a warm body next to her, you open the door rather abruptly.
Cara literally jumps back, startled.
(The devil inside of you shakes its head at you.)
You stand there, simply looking at each other for a few seconds. When she doesn’t speak, you truly get the urge to roll your eyes.
"I just I–" She looks down, obviously surprised at your burst, hiding her red cheeks, "I thought we were supposed to meet. But if you don’t want to–"
"Sorry," You mumble as you step aside so she can come in. And then, hurt and wanting to hurt her, you lie, "I completely forgot."
Her face’s stoical as she closes the umbrella, leaving it at the entrance. As soon as the door’s closed and locked behind you, you feel her lips on your cheek.
It’s just for a second, though. Then she giggles and turns away from you, taking off her coat. Your mind replays her giggles for Leon and her giggles for you. There’s no difference. They’re the same.
"I didn’t even see you leave." She says as she turns back around, slowly walking towards you until her hands are on your waist.
"Yeah. I saw you were busy with Leon." You blurt out, immediately regretting it. You really don’t want to come off as possessive.
(Or a hypocrite. You’re the one with a boyfriend here, remember?)
Her arms fall to her sides, unreadable eyes. A second later, a little smile starts forming on her lips.
"Are you jealous?"
You roll your eyes, cheeks betraying you.
"What do you think?" You mutter, crossing your arms at your chest when she goes to hold your hands.
Her smile falls.
"I don’t think you’re being fair." She says, voice unforgiving, "You have a boyfriend and you don’t see me getting jealous of him."
You roll your eyes, hiding the insecurities that she’s just created in you. If she doesn’t get jealous of your boyfriend then she can’t feel much for you.
"We weren’t together yet when he was still here, were we?" You say, a bit more assertive than before.
"We aren’t together now, are we?"
It hasn’t been twelve hours since you’ve first kissed and professed your want for each other, yet she’s already managed to crush your heart to pieces.
After recovering from your stun, you start nodding.
"You’re right." There’s a very fake smile plastered on your face, "Go." You say, "Go," You repeat, stepping aside so she can walk away from you, "Go be with your boy toy."
She shakes her head as if she’s thoroughly disappointed in you. And then she angrily grabs her coat and her umbrella, unlocks the door, steps out and shuts it behind her. The loud thud startles you.
You don’t nap.
You try and try and try. It’s no use. An hour later, you think your thoughts of her have eaten you inside out. You stare at the pills on the table and wonder how many you’d have to take to send you to sleep but not kill you.
You’re not that desperate.
Close to five, you emerge from your trailer.
Your headache is dull and continuously throbbing. It makes you want to pluck your eyes out. The pill you took after lunch was incredibly ineffective and the nausea you felt before hasn’t subdued. You approach a couple of crewmembers that call you over. You walk in their direction when you see Cara sat on a chair, completely focused on her phone.
You talk to them and steal glances at her. It kills you to think that you could’ve been snuggling all afternoon and instead you wasted it on replaying events that make you feel helpless.
For once, you’re thankful most people are late.
You excuse yourself from the men and walk towards her. After taking a deep breath, you decide there’s no point in being mad at each other. There’s a voice telling you not to give in to her powers over you. You ignore it.
You sit down on the chair beside her and look at her side profile for a couple of seconds before staring straight ahead. She keeps her pretty blue eyes focused on her phone, thumb furiously stroking the screen.
At some point, she supports her head on the elbow propped on the chair’s arm, hiding her face from you. It’s irritating you that she isn’t so much acknowledging your presence.
You look up at the cloudy sky, cursing the gods for creating such a ridiculously stubborn being.
"Cara," You mumble after taking a deep breath.
She hums, clearly not very interested.
Still, desperate, you find courage in you that you didn’t know you had and say, “Have dinner with me, tonight.”
Everything becomes deafeningly silent after that. You think she’s ceased her hand movement, but you can’t be sure. She decides to torture you for long moments before speaking up.
"I can’t." She says, tone dull. You don’t let your shoulders slump down in dejection. "I’m going out with Leon."
(Why didn’t she stop at I can’t? Why did she feel the need to hurt you?)
(Why, why, why?)
The weight’s she’s just put on you it’s too heavy for your posture not to break.
Feeling incredibly rejected, you mumble an “Okay.” before getting up and walking away from her.
You’re not sure if it’s your dark mood that makes everything a million times worse, but your patience is nearly existent by the end of the day. It’s cold and bound to start raining anytime soon and you want nothing more than to take refuge in the confines of what you call home.
You get to yell at Leon a couple of times, which is always rewarding. But, surprisingly, he actually understood you this time. He even left earlier because he managed to finish today’s scenes perfectly.
(He’s probably bathing in Axe right now.)
(Tomorrow, Cara’s going to wake up smelling like him.)
You wish you could drown out your screaming thoughts. It’s like there’s something terribly insidious about your mind. It’s constantly trying to hurt you. You think maybe what you need right now is a mug of hot tea to warm your shivering soul.
You’ve taken a twenty minute break in which Cara is supposed to be getting ready to film. She’s probably getting her make-up done somewhere in Margery’s trailer. You don’t know. You haven’t seen her yet. She didn’t show up when Leon was shooting his scenes. And that, once again, created a conflict of emotions inside of you. It’s borderline masochistic of you to want her near you, even it would make you miserable because her attention would be on that man.
You go in that little kitchen to fix yourself some tea when you realize you’re not the only one wanting to warm your insides.
You find Cara wrapped up in what seems to be the warmest of jackets, back against the counter, mug between her hands. You awkwardly lock eyes when you come in. You can’t force a smile. Neither can she. So you look away and remember what you’re here for.
Your cheeks heat as you pour hot, heavenly tea in a mug of your own. You’re done in ten seconds. You walk past her, feeling somewhat emptier in knowing her eyes are not burning your back. It’s like her body’s present, but she’s not.
You’re about to step out in the freezing evening when it starts pouring like God’s angry all over again.
You’re forced to stay inside the smallest of spaces with an angry, mostly uninterested Cara. She’s mute towards you, too, so you guess things are about to get ten times more awkward.
You subtly steal glances at her. She’s looking at the liquid in the cup. You don’t think she sees it. Her lips pucker as she tries blowing out cold air so it cools down a little.
The rain stops two minutes later.
She doesn’t once look your way.
You’re currently made of despair.
Cara’s completely out of focus. She says the wrong lines, chokes on them, forgets what she’s supposed to do.
"Sorry," She sighs, massaging her temples as if to shake off everything that’s stopping her from focusing, "Can we try again?"
You stay quiet, attention fixed on the screen.
You don’t know why she’s so distracted.
(Probably because it’s the last scene of the day and she’s just incredibly eager to get it over with so she can go get dolled up for Leon.)
She tries again, just like she asked, but then she actually forgets what she’s supposed to say. By the twelfth or thirteenth time, she yells out a curse and kicks the floor. You roll your eyes. She’s such a drama queen.
(You’ve got that in common.)
Another couple of tries later, she looks your way, eyes clearly frustrated, and asks, “Can we take a break?”
You clench your jaw, ignoring the urge to give in to her.
"No." You mutter loud enough for her to hear, "Do it again. And please do it right, this time. I’d very much like to go home before midnight."
You lock eyes with her, glaring like you hate each other with a burning passion.
(Glaring just like a little while ago your mouths weren’t tenderly together.)
"I can’t remember my lines!" She cries, voice rising, "Can I at least take a quick look at the script?"
Much like weeks ago, you yank the script out of Anthony’s hands and get up, intending to give it to her with a very fake smile on your lips. As soon as you reach her, you forget all about it and don’t even look into those tempting ocean blue eyes of hers, afraid you might drown in them.
She looks at the paper before her for a few seconds, and then she hands it back to you, nodding as if she’s convincing herself that she’ll get it right this time.
"I think I’m good to go." She says, voice small when you lock eyes.
Furious because she’s making you want to forget all about the line between work and relationships outside of it, you fake that smile you’ve been wanting to show her.
"Study your fucking lines next time, will you?"
And then you stalk back to your seat, ignoring her momentarily surprised face. It’s the first time you’ve been this harsh on her, yet it’s not the first time she’s forgotten her lines.
(It was about time you treated her like you treat the rest. She’s not special.)
She really isn’t.
An hour later, you’re walking in the direction of your car. Everyone’s already left, Cara included.
You suppose she had to get ready for her date. You don’t blame her. You’d want to leave earlier to get pretty for her, too, if you had the chance.
Tomorrow starts the weekend, which means you don’t have to work. Maybe a couple of days away from her will do you good.
(Maybe it would’ve worked if you hadn’t spent last night kissing and murmuring honey-coated words in each other’s ear.)
You look down as you walk, letting sadness affect how you present yourself to the world. Your head lifts up when you sense you’re nearing your car. Your warm breath turns into fog as soon as it touches the cold evening air. And then, much to your surprise, when it disappears, you realize there’s a figure leaning against the passenger door.
You part your lips, heart racing when you make out a tall, slender body, beanie on her head, cigarette between her lips.
"What took you so long?" She quietly asks when you’re a dozen steps away from her.
You stuff your hands in your jacket’s pocket, coming to a stop when you’re within reasonable distance from her.
(You’re not sure what exactly the definition of reasonable is, anymore. It’s not like if an ocean were separating you, you wouldn’t want to kiss her any less than if you were three meters away from her.)
"I didn’t think you’d want to come with me." You confess. She takes a long drag off of her cigarette. The night’s so quiet you can literally hear the tip burning a little bit more. You carry on, unnecessarily making conversation, testing her to see if she’s still mad at you, "Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready to go out?"
(What a lousy topic you chose.)
"When you asked me to have dinner with you, I didn’t realize you were taking me somewhere fancy. I thought we were only hanging out at your place."
She says it so nonchalantly you have to put it in rewind.
She cuts off your question with a kiss to your lips. Your eyes widen at first, but then you relax, letting your brain register that it is Cara, the woman you’ve been craving for a long while, kissing you. And after that, everything becomes easier. You wrap your arms around her neck, moving your lips against hers, tasting her. She embraces you as best as she can, considering she’s still holding a cigarette in a hand.
"I’m sorry." You whisper when you pull away, smiling when she pecks you a couple of times more.
She hushes you and presses her lips to yours, once again.
You’re cooking dinner, a little while later, attentively watching the oven to make sure your food doesn’t turn into ashes, when you feel a body joining your back.
"Either that smells incredibly good or I’m just really hungry." She mumbles in your ear, noisily kissing it for a couple of times.
You let your head fall back, burying your nose in her wet locks.
“You smell good.” You moan, taking a hand to tenderly thumb her cheek.
"I smell like you."
You turn around in her arms, walking her back until she’s against the kitchen island. She pushes herself up until she’s sitting on the counter. You tell her to hold on for a little bit when you hear the familiar sound of water boiling.
You attend to the pots and pans as you talk about petty matters. When you fall silent, she takes a sharp intake of breath, hesitant about something.
"I lied about going out tonight."
Your back’s still turned to her, but you’ve slowed down, wanting to focus on her.
She’s quiet for a little while.
"I wanted you to feel jealous” She says, at last, “–partly because I was mad at you and partly because it feels incredibly good to know that you want me back."
You busy yourself for a couple of moments, taking in her confession.
"You said you weren’t jealous of Lee." You say, voice small and insecure.
"I said you didn’t see me getting jealous of him." She corrects. You don’t see the difference. "I do get jealous. I get so fucking jealous." She says through slightly gritted teeth, "But I had to hide it because I didn’t think you liked me back. I still have to hide it now." She pauses, "I wasn’t even sure you remembered me."
You turn your attention to her, taking the necessary steps to meet her.
"You haunted my nights for a long while, love." You confess, kissing her chest and ignoring the fact that this is the first time you’ve used a sweet term for her name.
"And you thought you could get rid of me so easily, huh?" She takes her hands to your cheeks, pinching them and devilishly laughing at the same time, "Well, sucks for you because I’m here to stay, love.”
You roll your eyes and pull her down to you until your lips are touching.
"Good," You whisper against her, "I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way."
You’re spread along the sofa and Cara’s resting her head on your chest. She’s been quiet for a little while but you know she’s not asleep. She’s probably listening to the way your heart beats a little bit faster when she’s around. Which is ironic because you only feel tranquility in her presence.
You absentmindedly draw abstract patterns on her back, occasionally kissing the crown of her head.
"You know what I’m looking forward to?" You start when the ads come on. She turns her face to you, resting her chin on your chest.
"Sleeping." She answers with a cute little smile on her lips. You’re about to correct her when she gasps, "No– you’re looking forward to sleeping with me.”
"I’ve forgotten what that’s like."
"We’ve never actually slept in the same bed, silly."
You roll your eyes.
"I meant, I forgot what it is like to sleep cuddled up to someone."
She slides up a little so her forehead’s touching your lips. Then she goes back to her previous position.
"What about Lee?"
Your insides pit. You’d nearly forgotten you had a boyfriend.
"He travels a lot." You sigh, "When he’s home we’ll be together for a couple of nights but even then it’s mostly for sex and he always falls asleep right after. As cliché as it sounds, he really is the type of guy that doesn’t like to cuddle afterwards." You mumble, realizing you’re sort of venting to the woman you’re cheating on him with.
(You almost feel guilty.)
However, you do like that you can talk to her about these matters. She’s your friend. She’s the kind of person you’ve been missing in your life. She’s there. And until you met her, you didn’t think you could rely on anyone.
She shakes her head incredibly slowly, face showing tremendous disapproval.
"Well, he’s missing out. Post-orgasm cuddles are the best part of sex."
You try your best not to sound like a fool when you giggle at her sweetness.
"I’ve actually never cuddled with anyone after the deed." You confess, "I mean, I’ll obviously try resting my head on his chest to get him to do something but he’s already passed out."
She grins at first, finding the whole situation somewhat amusing, but then her grin turns into a soft smile. She moves up until her head’s hovering over yours.
"Let me take your post-orgasm cuddles virginity." She whispers, threatening to let her head fall until her lips are on yours.
Your cheeks heat up unexpectedly. Your whole face does. Luckily, the environment’s dim – the only light comes from the fireplace and the television screen.
You take a hand to her cheek, tenderly stroking it as you say, “I really want you to… but let me break up with him, first.”
Her face falls a little bit. She looks away, sullenly nodding.
"No, don’t be sad." You whisper, "Look at me."
She does. You forgot what you were going to say next. So, you kiss her instead. But all the tension pent up from today and also the thought of pure eroticism with her, turns your innocent kiss into a not so innocent one. It involves lip biting and tongue battling and somehow her hand’s made way under your shirt, now resting on your right breast.
You try pushing her away, scared if she goes on with this, you won’t have it in you to tell her to stop.
She pulls away and to your surprise, there’s a very devilish smirk on her lips.
"I just want to play with your glorious boobies since mine are nearly inexistent." She innocently explains, "I’d like to adopt them."
"I like your boobs." You say, "I like them a lot."
"It’s your hand that’s almost imperceptibly squeezing my boob as we speak." You roll your eyes as you speak, "Not mine."
"I’m treating it as my own!" She cries, huge smile on her lips, "Just because it’s adopted doesn’t mean I like it any less than mine."
You shake your head in faux disapproval, grin giving you away.
"You can attend to mine as we speak." She suggests, "They like you, too, you know. They like you a lot."
You take your hands to her clothed chest, gently feeling it. You lift your head up with great efforts just so you can get her to kiss you. But you can only peck her before her attention is diverted to some explosion scene on the television. You pout for a moment but then you, too, become transfixed with what’s happening in the film. You feel a pair of lips to your cheekbone. You close your eyes and let a grin grace your features.
“You were saying you were looking forward to something.” She mumbles against your skin.
“Right, before you interrupted me.“
“A million apologies. It won’t happen again.”
You peck her once more.
“I’m looking forward to Greece.” You say whilst letting your hands slip under her shirt and rest on her smooth back.
“Oh, so, you’re looking forward to kill off Lily.” She jokes, shaking her head for emphasis, “You know, I devoured that script in hours because I loved it so much but I don’t understand why she has to kill herself.”
You let your hands stroke her skin from her shoulders to the small of her back.
“How would you end it?”
“I’d make her meet some handsome Greek man and they’d fall in love and have lots of cute babies.”
You giggle at her cuteness. She kisses you for a second.
“That’s not very realistic.” You mumble against her. She pulls away, urging you to go on, “She’s broken.”
“He could fix her.”
You shake your head.
“Even if she fell in love with some guy, he’d be sort of like life support. He’d be like a ventilator or some drug to keep her heart going. She’d depend on it— on him. She’d live through him. She would never be truly happy and neither would him. He’d end up leaving because she’d be draining life out of him. And then she’d be left worse than she was when he found her. Suicide is imminent in any situation. She’s a lost case.”
With very sad eyes and a soft voice, she says, “That’s really sad.”
“What’s even sadder is that this actually happens in real life.” You quietly start, getting distracted for a moment when she decides to let her body gently repose on yours. She rests her head next to yours. Her lips touch the side of your face for brief moments. The tip of her nose touches your cheek as you whisper, “All throughout the film I try using as much detail and insight as possible so that the viewer can feel her pain. I’m not trying to glorify suicide. I don’t want people to watch it and think it’s something beautiful.”
The hand on your chest slips out of your shirt so she can bring it to your face and caress your cheek.
“Did…did you ever—“
You quickly shake your head figuring out what she wants to know.
“I can’t imagine how desperate someone has to be to even think of ending their own life.” You mumble, truly feeling a certain discomfort within you. “But enough of depressing subjects.”
She nods and closes this chapter with a quick kiss to your lips.
“So, why are you looking forward to Greece, babe?” She cuddles closer to you, burying her cute little nose in your hair.
“Lee’s going back to Japan in January which means we can share a room for a couple of weeks.” You gush, smiling at the simple thought of being with her for fifteen consecutive days without having to worry about your boyfriend.
(You should be ashamed of yourself for not feeling a single pang of guilt.)
She keeps quiet.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, sensing you’ve said something you shouldn’t have.
She sighs almost imperceptibly.
“I don’t want to hide forever.” She whispers.
You tighten the grip you have on her.
“Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.” You turn your head to hers and put a little kiss to her forehead, “Everything will be okay.” You repeat, “Everything will be alright.”
(Whom are you trying to convince?)
In December, you find yourself walking into set one last time for the year.
You’ve got a mug of coffee between your hands and Anthony holding an umbrella over both of your heads — it’s snowing, but he claims it’ll ruin his hair (even if he’s wearing a beanie).
The first thing your eyes see as soon as you reach the actual set, much to your lack of luck, is Cara grinning and giggling at something some girl is telling her. You don’t even know who she is. You decide you don’t like her.
Cara’s eyes end up falling on yours. She waves.
You mumble good mornings and force smiles and nods in their direction. But inside you feel like you’re rotting. Especially when you see her being so happy with someone else.
(She could be happy with you if you’d just break up with Lee and stopped being a scaredy-cat.)
You sigh because there’s nothing you can do.
(Actually, there is.)
You slump down on your designated chair and ignore your aching heart, waiting for the snow to subdue.
"Good last morning." A familiar husky voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
You lock eyes with Cara’s and forget all about jealousy for a moment. You smile a smile you’ve reserved for her and her only. She sits down beside you, grinning like she’s up to something.
"Eager to get rid of me, I see."
"You’re a pain in the ass, babe." Anthony jokes from the side, "No offense."
You ignore him, instead focusing on the fact that Cara’s eyes look really green today. Anthony clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze, and then looks at you through quizzical eyes. You ignore him again.
"Bad last morning, actually." She mumbles when he finally decides to leave, dragging the chair he had been sat on closer to you until your knees are touching.
"Bad last morning?" You repeat, at the same time thinking she’s adorable.
"Shooting ends today." She starts, a little pout on her bottom lip, "And I’m going to miss this."
"You’re going to miss this? You mean you’re going to miss Leon?" You say in a playful tone, though you’re actually serious. You bite your lip when she rolls her eyes.
She dares to subtly rest a hand on your knee, slowly dragging it upwards until she’s gently stroking your thigh as well.
"I’m going to miss you."
Wanting to kiss her but knowing you can’t for a couple million reasons, you rest your hand on hers and then you share loving smiles.
A kiss to your cheek startles you. When you feel Cara retracting her hand and you see her face falling, you know who is behind you.
"Good morning, babe."
Lee came back two days ago. It’s not for long, because then he’ll leave to be with his family in Ireland for Christmas. He’s asked you to come with. You’ve said you’d think about it. He didn’t like that you didn’t have the right answer hanging off the tip of your tongue.
You look up at him before sending an apologetic look at Cara, who’s suddenly very interest on your surroundings. When he starts leaning down for a kiss, you pale. It’s a three second situation filled with awkward, heavy silence. You turn your head at the last moment, letting his lips touch the corner of yours. It would’ve been fine had he not decided to linger.
When he pulls away, you don’t dare to lock eyes with Cara.
"I’m going to get a cup of coffee, would you like some?" He asks, shooting you his brightest smile.
(Obliviousness truly is how you can feel the happiest.)
You hold up your mug.
"What about you, Cara?"
You find Cara smiling like everything’s how everything’s supposed to be. Your eyes fall on her clenched fists, knuckles white.
"We’re sharing." She replies and then grabs your forearm and pulls it to her face so the mug you’re holding is touching her lips. You stop breathing when she moans very quietly, insisting in locking eyes with you. She’s resting her hand on yours again, almost imperceptibly caressing it.
Again oblivious, Lee chuckles, kisses your head and leaves.
You retract your arm and glare at her.
"You’re pushing it." You mutter, setting the mug down and hiding your hands under your thighs. "Have some respect for him."
Abruptly, she drags her chair back and then gets up, cold looking face.
"Respect? You don’t know the first thing about respect." She scoffs, "I’m not the one cheating on him."
Stunned to the point where you actually lack speech, partly knowing she’s right, partly finding her rude and unnecessary, you watch her go sit down beside Leon and a couple of other actors, greeting everyone, but Leon, in particular, rather excitedly.
Consumed with jealousy, you get up as well, thanking the Gods for the perfect timing when you see Lee emerging from the trailer again, hot mug of coffee in a hand.
You stalk past them, meeting him when he’s in earshot of Cara, and say, “Babe, lets go back in there so I can steal you some smooches.”
You sure feel Cara’s burning daggers on your back.
It’s exactly three minutes past seven when you’re done for the year.
You feel happy that filming’s nearing an end because you’ll be able to sleep in and then work in the afternoons, but at the same time, Cara won’t be exclusively yours anymore, soon. She’ll shoot some other film, somewhere far away from you and you don’t think it will take long for her to break your heart.
(You can feel it cracking already.)
You pack your things, put on a coat, zip it up to your neck, put on a beanie and stalk to your car, deciding you’re not going to wait in the cold for her to join you.
You’re halfway your destination when you hear her calling your name, effectively making you halt and turn around. You hide a grin when you see her all wrapped in an incredibly furry coat and a beanie, just like you except a million times cuter. You just want to pull her into you and kiss her silly.
"I just wanted to tell you that I’m going with Leon, tonight. He offered to take me home since he got that new car and–"
You imagine how you must look like now. Your face lines are probably hard and unforgiving. Inside, you’re once again feeling like a corpse. Or more like a burning candle when it starts melting and its stance becomes disfigured.
You force a smile.
And then you leave.
The irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. It’s not the first time you’ve walked away from her. Yet, it’s the first you’re walking away to nothing and she’s staying for a man that torments you without even knowing he does so.
You ignore her cries for you. If she really wanted to stop you, she would’ve taken hold of your wrist and turned you around and she would’ve assured you nothing will happen between them and that she only wants you, even if your attention isn’t completely focused on her.
It never happens.
(You guess her attention isn’t completely focused on you, either.)
A couple of days go by.
Lee’s flown out of the country, at last. He pressured you to come with but you said no, no and no, and after a huge argument, he finally understood its meaning.
Seriously, you’re so fed up with him. He’s so tender and so clingy, always holding on to you, always kissing you, always cuddling close to you. It’s more than safe to say your relationship has ran its course.
You don’t feel anything for him anymore. How could you? You’re giving it all to a woman who is currently ignoring you. And you’ve been craving her so much for the last forty-eight hours, it has actually started to hurt.
You’ve typed a million apologies. But they’re all different because you’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. Either way, it’s alright, you haven’t brought yourself to send any of them, yet. You don’t think you will.
You go to London three days away from Christmas Eve.
The drive to your brothers is made at an excruciatingly slow place. And that’s because as soon as you make your way into the city, you ponder driving by the street where your love lives. You decide against.
Whilst at your brothers, your sister-in-law’s obnoxious twin sister, Edith, is there as well and more than ready to be the biggest twat you’ve ever met. With comments regarding matters that have nothing to do with her, for instance, your personal life, she manages to make your head start hurting in record time.
“So, why isn’t Lee with you? Is he not coming to dinner on Christmas Eve, either?” Edith asks, sipping on a glass of white wine. Her tone’s disdainful as she goes on, “I find it a bit strange that you’ve been together for years and you haven’t even moved in together.”
As she talks about her husband and how he proposed after seven months of dating, you distract yourself by imagining your life next year by Christmas time. You won’t be with Lee, anymore. That’s granted. And you’ll do anything in your power to still be together with Cara. You wonder if she’ll agree to meet your brothers’ family. And you wonder what she’ll think of them. You think you’ll have a good laugh whilst making fun of her and commenting on how Edith is an old lady’s name.
But you’re still a year away from that.
Right now, you’re trying your hardest to keep your anger bottled in, not wanting to burst and make things a million times more awkward. To calm down, you end up taking your too cool for school thirteen-year-old niece and your angelic eight-year-old nephew out for a latte.
Your hour at the closest coffee shop, which happens to be the cosiest coffee shop you’ve been to in a while, consists of you and Thomas chit chatting back and forth about school and his mates and Elizabeth rolling her eyes and calling him names and saying she’s bored.
Nonetheless, it’s a good distraction from thinking of Cara.
However, something in the back of your mind tingles when you wonder what she’s doing and whom she’s doing it with. Maybe she’s alone in her bedroom, wearing one of your shirts, waiting for a signal that you’re still alive and very much interested in her affections. Maybe she’s wondering the same.
You take the kids back to your brothers and then you announce you’re leaving. You’re seeing them all again in three days, anyway. You won’t miss them too much.
In your car, you’ve got your phone in one hand and another fidgety on your lap. You think of calling her but you start shaking as soon as you put the device to your ear, so you hang up. And then you stare at the still lit screen until it goes black, searching for something to send her through a text.
With trembling hands, you pour all of your honesty into three words.
i miss you
Not even ten seconds later, you get a reply.
run away with me?
You wait for her on the other side of the street, feeling the need to run over the half dozen vultures waiting for her to come out. You think you actually recognize some, already.
When you see a flash going off, your heart races.
She comes out, looking down, face partially hidden by her long blonde hair, stoic facial expression. And then she nearly runs to your car, getting in without saying a word.
You step on the gas pedal. You don’t think you’ve ever driven faster in your life.
"Are you alright?" You break the silence, daring to take a couple of quick peeks at her profile.
"No." She quickly replies, making you feel incredibly sad for her.
For a couple of minutes, only the sound of the man on the radio can be heard. Your left hand rests on the shift gear when you feel her covering it with her right one.
You feel at peace.
Then, she asks, “Are you?”
And you smile.
"I am now."
When you were a kid, your dad used to take you and your brother on mini-hikes through the woods until you found this quiet, little lake, yet untouched by the hands of humans. As you grew older, the visits were less frequent, but you suppose that’s what makes it magical. You like to think of it as your hiding spot because no one ever cared about it. You’ve never seen a soul near it. Today, there’s a road beside it, yet people drive by and are never bothered to stop. You think that’s exactly what Cara needs for a little while, for people to walk past her and, for once, not see her.
Your car’s parked close to one end. Everything’s incredibly dark in the woods so you can actually see a few stars in the surprisingly clear sky.
You’ve been in comfortable silence for a bit now.
Her hand is still resting on top of yours.
Swearing you’ve just seen a shooting star, you dare to turn your hand around until her palm is against yours. And then, pretending you’ve just seen another, you let your fingers fit between hers.
"I’m breaking up with Lee." There’s silence again. You thumb the back of her hand. "I need a little time but it’ll happen.”
She stays quiet, hand gripping you tighter.
“Do you think we can be together after I break things off with him? Will you be my girlfriend after that?” You quietly blurt out, breath caught in your throat when she locks eyes with you.
The straight line of her lips gives in to a grin.
“Baby, isn’t that the whole point?”
Feeling a wave of heat wash over you, you’re momentarily brave enough to unbuckle your seatbelt, turn on your seat, pull her face to you and kiss her. It’s a little bit tricky at first, because she can’t stop smiling and then you start smiling as well, but as soon as you feel the tip of her tongue grazing your bottom lip, your kiss becomes somewhat desperate. Territorial, even. It’s just like you’re trying to claim each other.
“I missed you, too.” She sighs against you when you both break away to breathe, foreheads against each other.
“Can we snuggle in the backseat?” You breathlessly ask, feeling her hands trying to pull you closer to her.
A minute or so later, you’re back to kissing. She’s sat on the middle of the backseat and you’re straddling her, arms locked behind her neck. Her hands rest on the small of your back, threatening to go lower with each time your tongues touch each other.
You’re aware of where this is leading if you don’t stop her.
Any other day, you would have pulled away, kissed her cheek and told her that you can’t because you’d feel incredibly guilty if you did go all the way.
But, tonight you want to give yourself to her.
More than anything, you’re hers.
You pull away, feeling like you need to tell her just that, even if it’s only through a look. She whimpers, searching for your lips in the dim lit night. You suppress a chuckle and press your lips to the tip of her nose.
“Do you already want to go?” She quietly asks, very softly wrapping her arms around you.
With a shaky breath and trembling hands, you take your hands to the hem of your sweater and pull it over your head. You’re not sure if she’s realized by now what you’re trying to tell her. When you go for the thinner shirt you were wearing underneath your sweater and take it off, you hear her gasp, even over the soft music playing on the radio. You feel her hands hovering over your hipbones but she isn’t daring to rest them on your skin.
Boldly, you take hold of them and lay them just where your ribcage starts.
She’s still a bit stunned, apparently. You kiss her forehead, then her nose, then you simply look into her eyes, trying to get her to do something.
Her lips are still parted.
You don’t know what she’s thinking of right now and it’s making you slightly uneasy because you’re silently screaming that you’re hers and that you want her to take you. But the hands that are on your ribcage are so light. It’s almost like she doesn’t want to touch you at all.
Deciding you’ve just made the biggest and most embarrassing mistake of your life, you blush and clear your throat, going for your sweater again.
One of her hands slides to your back, resting it above the strap of your bra and the other goes to the back of your head, threading her fingers through your hair. She lets her forehead rest on your collarbones as she gradually embraces you tighter.
You breathe in relief.
You carefully remove the beanie that is somehow still intact on her head, and then you kiss her hair.
“Why are you doing this to me?” She quietly asks, voice shaky.
“It’s Christmas.” You reply in a whisper like it’s a plausible justification for your sinful behaviour, looking at her very innocently.
She pulls away to look at you.
You want to smirk, but she’s never looked at you like this before. You know what lust looks like, and you expected to see it when she met your gaze. But she’s looking at you so delicately. It’s almost like she’s scared she’ll break you.
You guess this is your queue to take charge.
You kiss her forehead, let your lips slide down until they’re on the tip of her nose, and then you pull away to press them to hers. You feel her sigh against you. You think she’s just awakened from some deep trance she was in.
You slip a hand between your bodies. In search for the hem of her shirt, you end up finding the button of her jeans. Still, afraid you’re coming on too strong, you subtly retract your hand and slip it underneath the few layers of clothing she’s wearing over her torso.
Much like weeks ago, you trace the muscles on her stomach. If you could, you’d kiss her navel, but you can’t, so you touch it instead, kissing it with your fingertips.
Something clicks behind you.
You realize it’s the sound of your bra being undone, and then, forgetting it’s snowing outside and the lake is frozen, your body temperature rises half a dozen degrees. You stretch your arms so she can remove it completely.
You lock eyes before going any further.
Putting aside the eroticism that’s to follow, you meet halfway for a very soft kiss.
You pull away after a couple of seconds, foreheads against each other.
“You’re the best kisser ever.”
You chuckle, feeling smug for a moment.
She pushes your long hair to a side. Her lips move to the bare side of your neck. When you feel her long digits tracing the valley of your back, you shiver. In a second, her hands have reached the small of your back, and her mouth has reached your chest.
You hold her head in place, fingers lacing with her smooth locks.
“Don’t leave any hickeys.” You breathlessly whisper, throwing your head back as if to give her more leverage.
She pauses abruptly and then, in the next second, she’s pulling away completely, jaw clenched. You don’t know what’s going on inside her head.
“Why?” She mutters. You taste venom. “Are you scared your boyfriend sees my marks on you? I don’t understand. Are you planning on fucking him after I’ve fucked you?”
You don’t think you’ve ever heard her speak so maliciously. But she’s right. Tonight, after she’s marked you, you won’t let him stain you ever again. You can’t. So, you shake your head very softly. You let your hands move to her cheeks, thumbing them with delicate strokes.
“Make me yours.”
Her hard face softens. Her lips part. You can’t really see the colour of her eyes right now, but you’re sure they’re a shade darker than usual.
You can feel the energy around you changing.
Unexpectedly, her mouth connects with your chest again. This time, though, the delicacies have been left behind. She’s sloppy and desperate and you don’t mind it one bit. She pauses for a moment so you can help her get rid of her jumper.
Whilst letting her have her fun with you, you decide to have your fun with her.
Your fingertips trail down her slightly sweaty torso until you find what you avoided a little while ago. You swiftly unbutton her jeans without giving it much thought, and then you undo the zipper. You pause for a couple of seconds, wary of her reaction. She slows down, tracing a wet path up to your neck. Shakily, you slip a hand under her knickers. You gasp when you encounter wet, burning heat. She tenses up. You tentatively move your fingers. She relaxes. Then she mumbles something against your skin, but you can’t understand a word.
Your fingers stroke her, exploring her and looking for the spots that make her quiver underneath you. When you dare to enter her, she bites your pulse point and moans. You feel weak.
A couple of minutes later, she’s begging you to go a bit faster and you comply, even if your hand is killing you. She’s moved her lips to yours, breathing into you because for the moment she’s forgotten how to kiss.
She may not be feeling very coherent and her words may come out a bit slurred, but as you bring her to a new high, she’s clear when she confesses against your lips, “I love you.”
You nearly stop.
But you must do something right, then and there, because she gasps and then you feel the hand you have on/in her become even wetter. She keeps gasping over and over again until she releases a loud moan. She slumps against the seat, encircling her arms around you.
“I love you.” She whispers again, “I love you.”
God, you’ll spend the rest of her life making her feel good if every time you do so she tells you she loves you.
You start pulling out your hand. She holds on to you tighter, breaking away from your kiss so she can embrace you. Feeling bold, you pull away from her so you can taste her on your fingers. A little sample is enough to make you want all of her.
You reach for your discarded sweater on the floor and she takes it as an opportunity to plant a little kiss on your stomach and another couple of kisses on your chest. You can’t help but to smile when she pulls you close to her, lips connected to the skin on your neck.
“You’re very cuddly, tonight.” You whisper against her hair, inhaling its flowery scent.
“I love me some post-orgasm cuddles.”
You giggle very quietly, adoring the warmth of her rosy cheeks against your slightly colder chest. A string of I love you’s is still running around in your head. You let them consume you whilst her hands caress the muscles on your back.
A couple of silent minutes later, she breaks apart from you, eyes glimmering in awe, and says, “Take me to your place.”
She doesn’t need to elaborate for you to know the meaning behind those words. Instead, she puts her lips to yours for a couple of seconds. She hugs you tighter for a moment before letting you part from her so you can get dressed.
The drive to your house is done in a rush.
Surprisingly, in the mean time, Cara’s been talking to you like you didn’t have your hand down her knickers just moments ago.
When everything gets comfortably quiet for a few seconds and only the sound of the engine can be heard, she takes hold of your left hand. The small fragment of naiveness led you to believe she was only going to hold it. But when you feel the tip of her tongue on your digits, your mind goes blank.
All innocence’s lost.
You’re burning up.
Your insides are completely melted. You can’t even think straight because you can taste Cara, you can smell Cara. You’ve felt Cara. You want more.
But as soon as you walked inside, she asked you if she could light up the fireplace.
"I’ll be quick." She said, tilting her head to the side and giving you that lip bite that you cannot resist.
So, you take those ten minutes to freshen up and to make sure you look and smell desirable.
As you descend the stairs, you hear her humming in the living room whilst fumbling around with something else you can’t really identify by the simple sound it makes. Everything seems so normal, just like it always should be. You feel warm, and it’s not just because of the lit fireplace. For once, your house feels like a home.
You find her watching the fire quickly coming to life. You silently approach Cara from behind and wrap your arms around her as soon as you can, pressing your bodies firmly together. Her hands immediately cover yours.
"Look at that," She whispers in awe, the flames now burning brightly, "I’m a pro at starting fires."
“You are.” You mumble before pushing her hair all to a side just so you can smother her neck with gentle kisses.
She lets out a quiet moan.
You pause because you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything quite like it.
She turns around in your embrace.
Like so many times before, you think she wants to say something. But she simply looks at you, no— she simply looks into you like she understands you in some very strange, mysterious way.
She’s so fragile before you, so vulnerable. You never really pegged her for insecure, but it’s your fault for creating certain fears in her. Images of you running away from her and her crying for you to come back have never stopped playing in the back of her mind.
You kiss her.
And then, feeling like the only thing that’ll ease her anxiousness is the truth, you take a deep breath and whisper, “I love you.”
Her lips part in a quiet gasp.
"I love you." You say again, testing it out like this particular combination of words is foreign to you.
Her blue eyes glimmer and it briefly reminds you of the rays of sunlight hitting the crystalline ocean water.
"I love you." You repeat, this time confidently. You smile, and just like she did a while ago, you tilt your head a little, "Now we’re even."
Her lips are suddenly on yours. She smiles against you for long moments.
But because a fire you started hasn’t yet ceased its burning, a soft kiss turns into an urgent one in a matter of seconds.
You break apart when she takes off your sweater, once again revealing your bare torso. You make a mental note to get your bra from the backseat of your car, otherwise future passengers will have an awkward surprise. She pulls you closer to her, hand going for the button on your trousers.
"I’m so crazy about you," She mumbles against your lips before pulling away so she can take off her own sweater. She finds you grinning like a fool, so she grins as well, "I am."
She undoes your trousers, hands not wasting time in going for your buttocks. You moan, pleasantly surprised.
"Have I told you you’ve got a really nice bum?" She mumbles against your neck.
"Once or twice." Your smirk falters. You feel as spineless as an invertebrate for the moment, "It’s yours."
"You should get it tattooed – 'PROPERTY OF CARA JOCELYN DELEVINGNE. KEEP OUT.'”
"You might not want it, tomorrow."
She pulls away, a bit startled. Then she shakes her head before taking a hand to your face to push your hair back. After a soft kiss on the lips, she shakes her head again.
"Nonsense. A girl with a bottom like yours is a keeper."
It’s such a silly thing to be said, and yet it touches you exactly like an I love you would.
You kiss her again. But you pull away not very long after. She whimpers for a moment, but when you pull her shirt upwards until she’s left in her bra before you, things speed up, once more.
When your lips go back to touching, that desperate feeling from before comes back. You feel her fumbling around with something, slightly separating from you, but never breaking the kiss. When her torso joins yours once more, you realize it’s bare on yours.
She starts walking you back, but the back of your knees hits the coffee table. You yelp, nearly falling onto it, and she holds you tightly, chuckling into the kiss.
"Maybe some other time we can try out this table." She mumbles, dragging her lips to your neck.
You blush and let her walk you to the sofa, this time no obstacles behind you. You fall on your back, but she doesn’t fall on you. She gives you time to adjust, lying across the couch, watching her slide down her trousers. You wonder if you should be getting rid of your own, but you bite your lip, instead, when you see her long legs exposed to you.
When she’s done, she throws you a bright smile and kneels between your legs so she can help you take your trousers off. You lift your bottom up, smiling back as she starts sliding them off, nearly taking your knickers as well.
As soon as she’s done, she settles between your legs, forearms on each side of your head as she looks into your eyes again.
You wrap your arms around her, caressing the sides of her ribcage.
"I’ve never done this before," You quietly admit, ignoring the slight heat on your cheeks.
She grins. Why? You don’t know.
And just as she says it, she slips a hand between your bodies and into your knickers. You gasp.
She explores you with her fingertips like she’s looking for something. You don’t know whether she’s found it or not, but with the way she keeps making your legs tremble, you’d say she has. She stops just as things were starting to get good. With a last kiss to your lips, she detaches from you.
Your heart rate speeds up when you realize what’s going to happen.
She helps you wiggle yourself out of your knickers and then you get shy, because once you part your legs you’ll be completely exposed to her.
She must sense this. Her hands touch your stomach, trying to relax you. She kisses your knees and then your thighs and your inner thighs and when you wake up from this daze she’s got you in, you realize you’re open to her.
She doesn’t give you to time for embarrassment.
An open-mouthed kiss to your core and you’re gone.
You hold on to her head, trying to take peeks through the valley between your breasts, but you end up giving up because even the slightest of efforts in lifting your neck up feels like heavy exertion right now.
You reach a new high with each delicate stroke of her tongue, and as the pleasure intensifies, you try moaning out her name, but even two syllables is too much for the current state of your brain.
You feel a hand running up your torso, searching for something to grab on to. You let it cover your left breast, and then you rest your hand atop.
You can’t hold on for much longer, and you think she notices, purposely slowing down. You’re about to mumble out a protest when you feel fingers entering you.
You hold on tighter to her hand, feeling closer than ever.
You don’t know what she does next or how she does it, but you feel yourself coming undone in the most powerful of ways. You lace your fingers through her hair and hold on tightly to her head, back arching from the sofa.
You fall back with a thud, feeling her slowly separating from your sex.
You close your eyes, panting. You’re still holding her hand, softly thumbing the back of it. With your other arm, you gather the strength to pull her to you, wanting to feel her against you.
"Are you okay?" She asks when you dare to open your eyes.
You’d think she’d be sporting the smuggest of grins for her great doings, but she’s smiling so softly you feel even weaker than before.
You nod, feeling ready to doze off. But you’ve got a favor to return and it’s something you’re eager to do if it means you get to feel her writhe beneath you.
"‘m tired." You mumble, "So very tired."
She kisses your lips and you taste yourself. You moan quietly, having never experienced anything quite like this.
"I want to–" You start when you break apart wanting to get up so you can do to her what she’s just done to you, but her weight pins you down.
"Tomorrow." She whispers, pushing your hair back, watching you drift off to a deep slumber, "Rest, my love."
You’re jolted awake with the sound of your phone’s alarm clock going off.
You slowly become aware you’re still in the living room, on the couch, and there’s a warm body behind you and an arm holding you close to it. Cara’s unrushed breathing hits the back of your neck. You slowly part from her but always making sure she’s still covered by the blanket that once covered both of you.
Cold hits you as you hurry to turn it off before she unnecessarily wakes up. Afterwards, for a couple of seconds, you watch Cara peacefully sleeping.
You hastily walk back to the sofa.
It’s a little bit past seven and you think you still have a bit more of sleep in you. You lie down with her, this time fronts flush against one another. You hide your head under her chin, placing soft kisses on the skin your lips can find.
You remember there was a time – and not too long ago – where Cara would sit with you on this very same sofa and you would watch episodes of series you once bothered to watch, and you’d wish you could watch her instead of the characters.
And now you wonder how you got so lucky to have her naked on the sofa, wrapped around a blanket and an arm draped over the now cold space you were previously lying on.
You’re briefly reminded of when, early in your relationship with Lee, you’d cuddle up to him and you’d let the hairs on his chest tickle your chin.
Your stomach churns. A simple thought of him and your current situation reminds that there is indeed a Situation with a capital S that you still have to attend to.
You put those thoughts away when she starts stirring.
Her arm encircles you, holding you tightly. You like to think she’s doing it because your minds are somehow connected and the simple thought of him makes her terrified of losing you to him (once more) and this way, you’re against her, trapped between her soft chest and her strong arm. There’s no way you’ll be able to escape her gentle embrace. You wouldn’t want to, anyway.
"What time is it?" She asks in a hoarse whisper.
"A bit past seven." You whisper back as if she wasn’t awake already, "Sleep, love."
"You sleep.” She weakly retorts, earning a sleepy giggle from you.
You give in to her wishes.
When you wake up again, you’re startled for a short moment, wondering why you’re pressed against a naked body. But then you smell her skin and you quickly relax, remembering how you got to your current position.
You let yourself melt in her embrace for a few minutes more until you swear you hear her stomach grumble. You separate from her as carefully as you can. And then you lean down to very softly kiss her temple.
Her breathing is still peaceful.
God, how you love her.
After throwing on comfortable attire consisting of pajama bottoms and a hoodie and making sure you don’t look or smell horribly in the bathroom, you descend to the kitchen with a smile on your face.
You pour an equal amount of the love you have for her into the breakfast you prepare in longer than you’d like to admit.
And then, as you walk back to the living room, tray in your hands, you pray to whatever god is willing to pay attention to you for thirty seconds that you don’t trip over your own two feet.
Just the thought has you cringing.
But you go in the living room safe and sound, tray intact.
You notice she’s still in the same position, snoring ever so lightly. You kneel before her and push part of her hair behind her ear so you can look at her bare features.
"Cara," You whisper, thumbing her cheek for a moment. She moans in disapproval and mumbles out something you cannot understand, "Lovely, I made breakfast."
She starts relaxing once more. Her eyes flutter open. You don’t think they’ve ever been this colour before. They’re greyish, threatening to turn blue, and they make you feel divinely hypnotized. A hand emerges from under the blanket so it can touch your face. And then she smiles lazily and hides her face in the pillow.
"You’re still here."
You don’t think you were meant to hear that. Nobody ever wants to sound as vulnerable as she just did. You soothe her jolting heart and your sharp feeling of guilt by pressing your lips to the side of her head in a soft kiss.
"There’s bacon waiting for you." You whisper in her ear, daring to gently bite her earlobe and pull it between your teeth.
She’s up in a couple of seconds.
You drag the coffee table closer to you, sitting beside her sprawled legs. She lets a hand slip under your hoodie as she inspects the feast before her.
"Oh, Lord, woman, you spoil me." She cheekily starts, immediately going for the bacon. She moans when she starts eating it, "This tastes like sin."
You laugh, not letting her compliments get to you.
When she moves to the waffles, she actually whimpers.
"Jesus Christ." She sighs, mouth full. You watch her closing her eyes as she enjoys her food. When she’s done, she says, "You should’ve been a Chef."
"Aw," You coo, stretching across the sofa to peck her tasty lips, "But then I wouldn’t have met you."
"You’re wrong. I’d for sure go to one of your restaurants – notice I say one of your restaurants because I know you’d be so successful you would have one in every big city – and after eating your delicious food, I’d ask the waiter or waitress or whatever if I could personally thank you for granting me the most delicious meal I’d ever eaten in my whole life and we’d meet and we’d fall in love at first sight. Well, second sight because I’d googled you before and found you banging." She takes a deep breath before going on, "Seriously, babe, it’s meant to be. It’d happen one way or another."
You’re a giggling, blushing mess by the time she stops talking.
"Is it, like, written on the stars?" You ask, mocking her adorable cheesiness.
She looks at you like she’s disappointed.
"Being cheesy is only cute to a point. There are limits, you know."
You pout and look down. It crosses your mind how ridiculous you must look, right now, but she somehow manages to be touched by it.
"Oh, baby," She takes your hand and puts the back of it to her lips, kissing it a million times, "It is written across the stars. The whole Milky Way. And the Universe. Even Martians have legends dedicated to our love."
When she kisses your hand and throws you a shit-eating grin, you roll your eyes.
"You have redeemed yourself, Cara Delevingne." You mutter, "For now."
It’s exactly thirty three minutes past eleven of a very cold night and you’re currently parked three houses away from her house, lips attached to hers like you are confined to the safety of your house.
She pulls away for a moment to say something that gets lost when you slide your kisses to her neck.
"I know I’m incredibly irresistible but–" She starts, pauses, then moans. You suck on the skin behind her ear intending on leaving your mark, "–I sincerely hope those paparazzi back there didn’t recognize your car."
A few seconds of quietness filled with her soft moans later, you pull away, silly grin on your lips.
"You can go now."
She stares at you, a perfect brow raised.
You wink at her and start the engine, pressing the gas pedal so you can hear the car coming to life with an incredibly loud roar.
"Show off." She says, leaning in for another sweet kiss.
"Show off my mad skills on your neck." You mumble against her lips, "It’s just so everyone can see you’re off the market."
"Right." She pulls away for a second so she can approach your lips from a different angle, "You’re very territorial."
"I am." You admit, nodding as best as you can. Then you pull away, leaving her lips slightly puckered.
You peck her one last time and then she grabs her backpack from the floor.
"Thanks for running away with me." She begins. You share shy, yet knowing smiles. Then, you go back to being more than comfortable with each other, when she says, "And for the sex."
You blush, having been caught by surprise. Thankfully, it’s dark inside your car and she can’t see your pink cheeks.
"I really liked your post-orgasm cuddles."
She makes this very smug face, nodding along for effect.
"I’m an expert at those."
"But I bet you preferred your orgasm.”
You smirk, deciding to wash her smugness away.
"It was alright."
"What?" She shrieks out, slapping her thighs in disbelief, "Are you saying my skills in bed – this case sofa – were merely satisfactory?" She huffs, shaking her head, "I cannot believe this nonsense."
"Oh, love, maybe you were just nervous. It’s alright. Chin up. You can try again some other time!" You fake enthusiasm, condescendingly patting her thigh.
"I can’t wait." She mutters, shaking her head. Then, she snaps out of character, chuckling as she says, "Really, though, I can’t wait for another rendezvous with your gorgeous self."
"When will I see you again, Cara?" You very softly ask, searching for her hand so you can hold it. You intertwine your left hand with one of hers, immediately pulling it to your lips.
She evokes god under her breath, looking out of the window for a second. And then she turns to you, silly grin gracing her face.
"I really wanted to give you my present for you on Christmas day." She quietly says, pouting when she finishes.
"I’m spending the twenty fourth and the twenty fifth at my brother’s in Notting Hill. Maybe I could sneak out?”
"Anything for a present, huh?” She shakes her head as if you have no amend. Then it’s her turn to kiss the back of your laced hands, “We could meet halfway in some café or something, but what I have for you… I’d prefer it if we were safe from the eyes of the world.”
“You got me curious.” You pout, “You could give it to me, now.”
She laughs and then lets your hand go so she can open the door. You whimper when you realize she’s about to leave.
“Where’s my goodbye kiss?” You mumble through a sad pout.
Cara rolls her eyes before pulling you in for a last delicate kiss. You take a hand to the back of her neck, effectively trapping her for a few minutes more.
“Go,” You say when you manage to pull away. She pulls you in again. “Go,” You mumble against her lips, smiling when you feel her pressing herself closer to you, “Cara.”
“You’re ruining the moment.” She whispers when she separates from you for a couple of seconds so she can shake her head in disapproval, purposely nuzzling the tip of her nose with yours.
“Don’t you have a curfew or something?”
She pulls away completely, looking at you like you’re joking.
“So? You live in your parents’ house.”
She glares. But then her eyes somehow end up falling on the rearview mirror. She stretches across your lap to look outside and before she sits straight, she slaps your thigh. It doesn’t hurt much, but it sure surprises you.
“Ow!” You cry out exaggeratedly, “What was that for?”
“For making fun of me for still living with my parents.” She puts on her backpack, “I think I’m gonna go now that there doesn’t seem to be any paparazzi waiting for me, outside.”
You nod. She doesn’t leave.
“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” You ask, tone playful, but deep down wishing she’d say yes.
“Do you want to walk me to my door?”
“I do, actually.”
She lets the silliest giggles escape her mouth. Then she becomes deadly serious again, eyes silently screaming at you not to comment on that same ridiculous giggle.
“Well, then, by all means.”
You shut down the engine. By the time you’re ready to open the door, she’s already done it for you. As soon as you step out, she steals you a one second smooch.
You smile and pretend that inside you haven’t just panicked a little bit.
“That was our first kiss in public.” Cara mumbles through a grin as she waits for you to join her on the pavement.
“I liked it.” You say, though it’s drowned out by the sound of you shutting the door. You turn to her and shrug, “But, then again, I like all of your kisses.”
Her grin turns into a bashful smile.
When you start walking, you fall into comfortable silence.
“My hands are cold.” She mutters, stuffing them in her jacket’s pockets.
So are yours, but you don’t have a jacket on you to warm them. You cross your arms at your chest and shiver quite visibly, not to mention loudly. Her head snaps to yours. Yours snaps to hers. It’s then something occurs to you.
Subtly, you slip your left hand in her pocket, discovering it’s an incredibly deep and furry one. You search for her hand, finding it clenched in a fist. You hold it anyway. It relaxes against you and two seconds later, her fingers lace with yours.
“I was not making fun of you for still living with your parents.” You quietly start, ignoring your heating cheeks.
“No, I wasn’t.”
You stay silent and then smirk.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I was.”
Her hand tightens around yours.
“You keep making those nasty comments and I’m going to have to pack up my things and move in to your house.”
You release a raspy laugh, finding her adorable. The fluttering butterflies on your stomach are starting to warm you up.
“I think I deserve that punishment.” You mumble as you reach her house.
Your pace slows down until you stop at the steps that lead to the door.
“I really want to kiss you.” She whispers, body now facing you.
Desperate because you’re nearly giving in to her urges (and yours, at that), you pull her in for a one-arm hug. Your free hand goes to the back of her head, caressing her hair as a form of apology.
“I think your dad’s watching us through the window.” You lie, grinning when you feel her chest shaking against yours whilst she chuckles. When you pull away, you stop your lips at her ear so you can kiss it before you retract completely.
“Text me when you get home, okay?”
You nod, starting to pull away your hand. You realize how warm it truly was as soon as it falls by your side. You slip them on the back pockets of your trousers in search of some form of heat. In the meanwhile, Cara steps forward to kiss your cheek for long seconds. You close your eyes at her touch.
When you’re apart again, you take your lukewarm hands to her face and pull her down until her forehead’s against your lips.
“When you said you wanted to walk me to my door, I thought you meant my bedroom’s door.” She cheekily says whilst you’re still kissing her.
One of your hands slaps her bum. She yelps.
“I’m just trying to warm my hands.” You say before your body shakes with an embarrassing shiver, “Babe, I love you and I’d love to stay and chat with you and spank you some more but I’m nearly freezing to death.”
She nods and puts a quick kiss to your cheek.
You watch her go, silly smile on your lips as you let your eyes fall to her long legs.
“Don’t forget to text me.” She turns around by the door, key already in the lock. You blush having been caught. “You’re such a pervert.”
You shrug, keeping your cool.
She rolls her eyes before disappearing inside her house.
You’re sort of glued to your spot, grinning like you’re some lunatic and staring at the door she’s just closed on you, when you hear a tap on a window. You look up to find her shooing you away with both hands from her bedroom.
You snap out of it and blow her the kiss you never got to plant on her soft, pink lips.