Re: Quicklog, DC: Clem M/Shane A
[Clem wasn't anyone's bad decision. Even in Savannah, where being born on the wrong side of the sheets was a real bad thing, she was silver spoon enough that mommas all over were willing to overlook a little indiscretion. It was easier, seeing as her daddy wasn't American, and they could all pretend there wasn't some wife in England with a family full of real legitimate children in line for the throne if you went on back far enough. And all those damn Savannah folks, they whispered about royalty, and Clem was as close as any of them were ever going to get. It meant mommas wanted their boys to put a ring on her finger, bed her down and take her money. Shame her daddy never was going to let anywhere go there without his go-ahead, and her daddy never did give his go-ahead.
She wasn't nobody's bad decision, and maybe life would've been more interesting if she'd been like her sister, riding off in trucks with boys real badly dressed.
But Clem was what she was, and she wasn't funning with that tray. She knew he was laughing at her, but Shane always did. Since zombies, where her wanting pretty things made him mock her for days, and she was used to it now. She didn't even take it personal, and she sipped her drink, sweet as cherries on her lips, and she watched him swallow down that scotch like it was cheap swill.
She wasn't expecting him to actually do it, kiss her; she was expecting to have to do it her ownself, but the surprise there was brief, not even something that flickered as she pressed cherries into that grit-kiss of his.
He took another drag on the smoke, and she tipped her head and looked on him long and hard. She was young, but Clem wasn't anything virginal, and she hadn't been sweet or naive since before she was out of her damn Mary Janes.] You hurry on up and finish that.