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.
110
Once they both recovered form that interaction, Zico took her hand and said, "come on, let's go to my apartment."
Clementine nodded, and they Bothe ducked into the night.
Outside of the party, they walked a few blocks to his car.
It was a different car this time, form what she remembered. Some sort of vintage convertible.
"What do you think is going to happen now?" Clementine asked him as they started driving.
"We're going to go to my place, and change into some dry clothes. Ot even better, eliminate clothes completely out of the equation," Zico turned to look at her to see how she'd react but he could see she wasn't in a joint mood.
"You know that's not what I mean," Clementine said sullenly.
He found her hand again, bringing it up to his mouth, pressing it against his lips.
"We'll see. But I meant what I said. About being serious, this time."
Clementine felt a little bit like she was in a war, toeing the enemy line, switching sides every 3 months or so. And now she didn't even know what she felt.
She could feel that he felt her insecurity, her unsureness, so to shut them both of up she leaned over and kissed him sultry on the cheek and that seemed to work momentarily.
As they were pulling up to his place, she wondered to herself if it was truly possible to get old love back and if it was ever really going to be the same.
When the car finally stopped, Clementine could feel the full potency of this strange cocktail of guilt and just, jealousy and love, power and inferiority.
They both sat there in the dark for a few moments, and she wondered what he was feeling.
"We are connected," Zico finally broke the silence, "always will be. No matter what happens."
And if that didn't sound ominous enough, it was like thunder came out of nowhere and lighting began to lit up the skies. Akin to a monsoon, Clementine thanked er lucky strike that they didn't have to drive in this weather.
That was enough to quickly get them from the car to the house, from the foyer to the kitchen, from the wet dress to nothing.
There, in the privacy that was a luxury, she was able to let herself truly go for the first time that night. For the first time in months.
When they were done, they lay there, intertwined and unmoving.
Finally, he got up suddenly with a nervous energy.
Rolling a joint, he suddenly said, "move in with me," after which he seemed to relax a bit.
Clementine looked at him, there with his tattoos and his problems and his beautiful skin and hair and eyes and all she had to do was say yes and try and keep him forever, or at least as long as she could.
But there was another part of her, that was scared of being dropped the same way she was before, like a porcelain doll with the same crack that keeps getting glued over.
Was it him coming back to her? Was it her running back. To him? Did it matter...Looking at him, she couldn't help it but only say: "Ok."
And she was surprised by how easy it was, and he was surprised by how easy it was, and he dropped his joint and crawled on his hands and knees to kiss her.
She marvelled at how there was never any way to foresee this, that first night. The first time she watched him roll a joint after sex.
"We're finally going to do it on our own terms," he said in a manner that suggested much more depth than he wanted to show.She knew there were going to be problems, but she also felt like she won.
Finally, she thought, fingering the necklace around her neck. The one Mina gave her for luck, thinking about how that night they both made a step that was one you couldn't take back.
