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...
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Finally, the whole thing seemed to start to wind down and people were scattering.
It was just her, him, a couple of his guy friends and two girls – crazy-hair and her friend.
Clementine started to understand and see the complexities and intricacies of such relationships within friendships. It was a bit like navigating a minefield, but it seemed that it was still possible for people with history to mix when they maybe had nowhere else to go.
As people were standing around and mingling on the streets, Zico came up to her and peered into her eyes.
"Listen, Clementine," – ah how she loved hearing her name coming from his lips – "we have to go. Tomorrow is a big day, some work stuff...I didn't expect to see you here, but I'm happy you came," he smiled, and Clementina noticed how his eyes literally changed colour in the different light. The brown becoming lighter or darker depending on the light and time of day.
A part of her hoped he would take her with him, but another part of her knew that it was evening now, and Clementine knew that she was supposed to technically be home a while back.
So she just nodded, "I have to get home too, I guess, I was going to take a bus, but I'll probably taxi back at this point..." Clementine was seriously considering the options in her head, until she as so rudely uninterrupted by his kiss.
Right there and then, in front of everyone else, he reached to grab her face and kissed her a gentle kiss goodbye.
If she had any reservations about where she stood with Zico, especially in comparison with all the other girls and boys, she knew that this was a sign that they were official.
"Better?" He asked her, looking visibly proud of himself.
Clementine nodded and smiled; she wasn't sure what she was referring too but she could guess.
"Bye," she said softly, and turning around, she brought her hand up to her lips. Tracing with her fingers where he kissed her, doing her best to preserve the memory of him. The memory of us, she corrected herself as she turned the street corner and flagged down a taxi that was waiting there, as if fated to take her home.
