Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
* 2 0 0 6 *
"I think we should tell him," Jim said to Harlow firmly, and she shook her head for at least the tenth time since the conversation had started.
"There's nothing to tell him, Jim," she said, annoyed.
Somehow, they'd managed to hide whatever it was that was happening between them from Corey, and that's just how she preferred it. She wasn't ashamed of him, wasn't embarrassed that things were happening between them. In fact, most of the other guys knew; Corey just tended to be a bit oblivious. She wasn't sure how he'd managed to stay oblivious for three whole years, but he had, and it had done nothing but save her from the endless argument she was sure would come. Corey wouldn't approve and she knew it. It didn't have anything to do with Jim specifically; Corey just hadn't ever approved of anyone she'd dated, and she was sure one of his friends wasn't going to be any different.
Besides, she and Jim weren't even actually dating. She'd never let it turn into anything official and that had been completely intentional. She liked him. She really really fucking liked him, and that was precisely why she wouldn't let herself get too committed to him. She'd watched way too many relationships of all sorts of different people in her life fall apart and turn to shit, two people who'd claimed to love each other and be committed to each other forever that ended up either enemies or just completely non-existent to each other. Jim was too important, what they had was too important. She wouldn't let that happen to them.
Admittedly, that logic was flawed. It was fucked up and she knew it, and she also knew that part of it also came from the fact that she herself was pretty convinced she'd fuck it up if they put a label on it. She had absolutely no faith that she'd be able to maintain something with such a high commitment level, even though she hadn't been with anyone else at all since the night they'd finally kissed for the first time two years before. She just didn't trust herself, didn't see herself actually being able to do it. So, she fought to keep things the way they were. Jim, obviously, disagreed.
"Why, because we don't mean anything? Because you don't actually give a shit?" Jim hissed, surprising her. She hadn't heard so much venom in his tone before, and it immediately triggered her own temper.
"Oh, fuck off, Jim. You know damn well that's not the problem."
"Then what the fuck is, huh? You tell me you care about me, you let me into your bunk whenever I want, you spend hours upon hours touching me and kissing me and fucking me, telling me every thought that pops into your head and listening to mine, but you can't tell your brother something's going on between us? You can't even tell me for sure that there's something real between us? This is such a joke, Harlow. I care so fucking much, and I'm just not entirely convinced that you don't think the whole thing's just a game," Jim ranted, the words only serving to further rile her up as well.
"If you're so sure I don't give a shit then get the fuck out of my hotel room, Jim. Fuck you. I don't need this shit. I started shit up with you because it was easy, steady, calm. I didn't know you were so goddamn needy or I wouldn't have bothered," she told him, knowing her words were much harsher than he deserved. He was hurt by them and it was immediately obvious. Regret panged in her stomach at the wounded look on his face and she started to say something, but he cut her off.
"Fucking don't," he growled, shaking his head. "Don't fucking apologize for saying shit you mean. I'm needy because I want to know where the fuck I stand with you? Fine. Then you're a fucking bitch for not having the decency to tell me," he told her, his words cutting her just as deeply as hers had him. She looked at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded. He'd never spoken to her that way before and his anger surprised her.
She started to speak again even though she had no idea what to say. He cut her off again, standing up from the small dining table and crossing the room to where she was sitting on the couch. He reached for her hand and she gave it to him hesitantly, confused about what he was doing.
He pulled her into a standing position and leaned down to crash his lips into hers. She kissed him back at once, surprised he was kissing her at all but happy to oblige him if his plan was to channel his anger into something that would pay off for both of them.
He kissed her for a few more moments before lifting her, roughly pushing her legs around his waist when she didn't move quite fast enough for him. He carried her to the bed in the other corner of the room, pushing her down onto it and climbing on top of her, stretching her arms above her head and holding her wrists there firmly.
"I fuckin' hate you sometimes, you know that?" he asked her, his face hovering over hers as his hands pushed down harder. She squirmed under his grasp, but it wasn't a movement of displeasure as much as impatience.
"No you don't," she whispered, surprised at how hoarse her voice was.
"No, I don't, and sometimes I think that's the fuckin' problem," he informed her, finally leaning down and pressing his lips to hers again.
"Peachy?" she mumbled against his lips and he pulled off of her just enough to look her in the eye. "I still don't want to tell my brother about us," she told him, hoping it would reignite some of the angry passion he'd had in him before. It had died down just slightly since he'd gotten her to the bed, and the way he ground her wrists down into the soft sheets told her she'd gotten exactly what she'd wanted out of him.
"Oh, you'll tell him, alright. You'll tell him when I make you fucking scream loud enough that he can hear you from down the hall," he growled, the dirty implication of his words making a blush rise to his face even though his brows were knit together in what seemed to be annoyance. Harlow smiled devilishly, stretching to kiss him again.
