Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
78
It was a black and white movie. A strange, sort of more and grey tinted affair. The combination of lust and sweetness, and the darkness and separation and back again and all the other hearts involved made it feel a little over the top.
They got to the apartment, and following the script they both knew so well, started taking off each other's clothes.
Clementine thought that it must have hit them at the same time, the fact that this apartment is empty and why its empty in the first place.
They both stopped, and looked around, a little haunted.
Zico dropped his arms and said he needs to go take a smoke.
He stepped out on the balcony, and Clementine - always being an empath herself - felt the intensity of all the pain that he was carrying again and she was out of breath for a moment.
Letting it travel through her and out, she released it. Coming up behind him on the balcony, she thought about the first night together, on the balcony in the hotel. How the first night is always so light and full of hope and unexpected desire.
Now, the heaviness of the situation, was weighing on them both.
Clementine wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her face on his back. Suddenly, she could feel his back heaving. Was he crying?
No, he was't crying, he was sobbing.
"Fuck," he said, the cigarette burning his fingers since he forgot he lit it.
"Shh, shh," Clementine trie to calm him, and herself. Seeing she had to be strong for the bother of them.
She caressed his back and stood there with him.
He dried his tears, but continued to look out from the balcony, but Clementine felt that his eyes were empty.
"Its just, why? Man, if there's a God out there, he's playing some dirty tricks," Zico finally turned around and looked at Clementine. "I've never cried in front of a girl before," he finally said, and they both burst out laughing.
Then he kissed her again, and she could feel his power coming back to him. Could feel the masculinity in his hands. He always had beautiful hands, she thought to herself. Something she always noticed in men, and in him, it was one of the first things she looked at to judge his character And she liked what she saw.
He led her into the tiny bedroom, and let her dress drop to the floor, leaving her in her tights which he took off painfully slow.
On her knees on her bed, she took off his shirt and unbuckled his belt, even more slowly.
"You're killing me," Zico said in a low voice.
It was only there, that once they were kissing harder in his apartment, in his dark bedroom, and as he let his hands move all over her body, he said it aloud. First as a whisper, and then loud enough for her to comprehend it.
"I'm sorry," he kept saying "I'm sorry I left you. I didn't mean it. Do you forgive me?"
She was enraptured in his embraced, and all she wanted to do was nod and brush it off. But she wondered how much leeway she was giving him.
But there it finally was, she savoured on it. She was't crazy after all. He knew what he did.
And he was sorry.
She only nodded no, both as a don't worry about it and I can't forgive you but dammit I loved you.
Kissing him was her response, and everything that was need to be said, would be through that.
Here it is, she thought, the moments that make it all worth it.
And he picked her up, gently placing her on her back.
Not wasting any time, that night was different than before for both of them.
