Highest ranking
#1 in utopia
-•-
"It's about how your hips move," the hand that sits on my waist finds my hip, his fingertips trailing lightly along the fabric of my skirt. "When you arch your spine," he continues on, letting that same hand migrate...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
More atmospheric music? You'd think I was writing a screenplay, not a book. Press play when it feels right.
———
"I have been meaning to ask," I say in a tone doused with upmost curiosity, "how did you get into the Manor grounds that night? I mean, it's quite extraordinary; you managed to evade twice the security with no trouble."
Two days has passed and once more, I've found myself in Kian's company. He's more than accommodating, freeing his schedule to spend his days with me, though far be it from me to assume he actually has a schedule. He seems far more the spontaneous type, and an itinerary doesn't suit him much. I think that's one of the things that endears me most about him.
I'd been particularly nervous to meet again following the odd moment we had. The one where his hand was flush against my chest, drawing out the drumming of my heart. It developed no further and he simply took me home, but I cannot lie and say that the atmosphere did not shift. Even in the bitter night, the air turned warm and even amidst my intoxication, my senses were acute. Nothing like it has happened since, but if that is what intimacy is, I certainly can admit to enjoying the feeling.
"Through the woods. Wasn't difficult; climb the right tree and you can swing yourself right over." He tells me, grinning to the woman who hands the pair of us a paper bowl filled with a casserole of some sort. Kian insists on paying and while usually I would argue, watching him exchange the food for tangible money leaves me enthralled.
It's something I've come to learn here. Still called knots, the money comes in all different shapes, sizes and colours, but all equate to the same value – a single knot. I've inquired as to why they use that money as opposed to the knots on our identification, but Kian reminds me that most people here do not own much. Trading like this is 'off the cuff' so goes without Government intervention.
We walk through the market, Kian talking something nonsensical, but my attention is focused on those around us. Multiple occasions now, I've noticed the eyes of some females linger on Kian perhaps a second longer than they would if the action was innocent. He pays them no attention, but it looks as though they desire it.
"You certainly get a fair bit of female interest." I point out as I watch the eyes of a blonde girl find him. Kian hums, following my eyes to land on the very same girl.
"Oh. Well," he laughs then, awkwardly, steering me in another direction. I expect him to continue with an explanation, but none comes.
I look at him then, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Do you know her?" I ask.
"Well, yeah. I know her." He answers lamely, abstaining from any further discussion. My face must offer something of disappointment because he soon sighs and concedes. "There are a couple girls I've been intimate with, you know? Like, Mika and Bug intimate."
