I shake my head and try to think of sensible things, like her age, her safety, her short-term stay in St. Peppers to silence my raging heart. It was a bad idea to leave my room. I’m for sure suffering from some sort of sick mental phase. Maybe it’s the anxiety of the past few days.
She thankfully sits down, hiding all that perfection from my eyes.
But she has placed two cups on the table.
Fuck, there’s no way out.
I’ll just have to keep a clear head and remember she’s my daughter’s friend for Christ’s sake.
“Did you sleep alright?” I take a sip of the overly creamy drink.
“I had a hard time falling asleep, but once I did, it was okay.” Her hand slides to her throat above the bandaged cut. “When I touch it, I kind of remember…”
I sit upright, instinctively my hand grabs hers on the table. Touching her is slowly becoming natural. More than it should.
“Clem, if you want to talk to someone about it, it’s okay. We have a doctor on the campus. She specializes in helping people who have suffered trauma.”
“Can we talk?” She looks at me through those long lashes.
“I’m…not the best person, Clem.”
What the fuck do I know about dealing with trauma? I’m in a perpetually depressed state.
“Not about this.” She places her free hand over her neck again. “Anything else. Anything but this.”
My brain works in overdrive, trying to think of something…neutral. Something other than the burning sensation that courses through my veins upon touching her, upon seeing her smile, laugh, even sad. Just…seeing her.
“Snowy has claimed the other half of my bed. It seems the cat is getting attached to me.” Clementine’s smile makes me forget all common sense and I blurt foolishly, “After ten years, the other side of the bed isn’t empty.”
The smile on her face vanishes, replaced by a frown.
“I mean—”
“Can we talk about the other night?” Her words scorch me as I pull my hand away from her.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I lean back in my chair, cursing the hot drink. I can’t even gulp it down.
“There is.” A new fire burns in her eyes as she grabs the edge of the table, ready to make me understand her point. “You said your piece without listening to mine. You said…you took advantage of me.”
“And I did. Jesus! We shouldn’t even be talking about this.” I rub the back of my neck. Why does she have to bring it up?
“Why not?” Her lips pinch together, frustration clear in her every word.
“Because you are fifteen years younger than me, you are closer in age to my daughter than me, Clem.” I pull on my hair.
Why can’t she see the wrongness of this?
“I wanted it,” she whispers after a moment of silence.
“Stop it.” My chest tightens at her open confession.
“I wanted it. I wanted you to kiss me and more. I’m thinking about it all the time and remembering the way your lips felt over mine.” Her fingers touch her lips, her eyes half-mast.
My mouth fucking dries and my stupid brain thinks of exactly that and more. Not only how her lips felt against mine, but how she felt stretched on top of me. I’d savor that rare moment for so long.
“I hoped you would kiss me like that again.” She glances at me with drowsy eyes.
“Clementine—”