Shameful | Congressman!Kylo x Reader

Chapter 30: Desperate

hey ;) 

hope y'all like this one. it's accidentally 8.5k words. 

xoxo gossip girl

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I've always taken a very passive interest in the psychology behind certain dreams.

Past lovers, especially after breakups, have made little unwelcome appearances from time to time. It makes sense, though – I'd made each one a box with a clear lid of his own – the particularly cruel ones had more opaque lids fastened atop theirs so as to keep them more out of reach – but they all still find their way into little crevices in my brain and stay there until I find someone else to occupy my time.

Dreamless slumbers are boring and inconsequential, anyway.

I think I even read somewhere that it's not considered cheating if it occurs in your subconscious.

In any case, it seems like my concerns about infidelity are baseless anyway, since Kylo and I have failed to put a label on anything, but it still gives me pause.

What gives me pause, specifically, is that I dreamed about Eric last night.

I don't know what to make of it, really, and I sure don't feel good about it... but it was notable, nonetheless. I'm attributing it – writing it off, rather – to the fact that I was on the receiving end of an ever-so brief moment of unadulterated public flirtation yesterday. It was such a departure from what took place minutes earlier, and I couldn't help but feel a bit light and airy afterward, though I kept reminding myself that Eric's brand of condescension is vastly unattractive to me. Kylo's is imposing, degrading in the best way... Eric's is too sharp and slick for my taste.

Why am I even comparing the two right now?

I don't want to harp too much on the contents of that dream, though, but it was memorable enough for me to wince upon waking up. I feel guilty, but at the same time, not guilty at all. Triumphant, even.

I'm still dangerously obsessed with Kylo, of course – past the point of no return – but I might need to make him work for it a bit more than usual.

I throw on a slinky Max Mara ribbed-knit dress with a hem that falls to my ankles and color reminiscent of stretched taffy. It's nondescript and chic and it takes the least amount of effort to pull from my closet because I'm totally preoccupied with edging that fucking dream out of my mind.

It stubbornly creeps back in, anyway – I feel like I need to fucking atone for something.

I text Rey to meet me in front of the Majesty of Law statue for a cig break instead of a shared Uber. I hop on the metro, hoping that forced proximity with strangers on public transportation will allow me to process everything in peace.

The cold wind bites me through the flimsy fabric of my dress, and I pull my Burberry trench tighter around myself as I keep an eye out for Rey.

"Hey, baby," Rey teases as I hasten toward her. "We're back at our little rendezvous."

She then reaches her hand out toward me, wiggling her fingers for a cigarette.

"I dreamed about Eric last night." I don't even greet her – I need to admit to my misgivings out loud or I'll just spiral about it some more.

"Hey-o! Kylo's not gonna like that very much," Rey mumbles, huddling up closer to me for warmth. I hold the lighter in front of the cigarette resting between her lips.

"I know. It's not cheating, though."

"Whoa, I wasn't even going there! So you dream-dreamed of Eric, huh?"