Member-only story
A Clause Between Friends
In That Haze — No18 (Micro)
Hadrian knew better than to trust the girl with the long pale hair. She was beautiful in the way of wonderful things — of sweetness, spice, and everything in between — but she would do wonderful things in his bed if he allowed it.
But they were just friends. He had to tell himself that truth. Friends. Just friends.
It was maddening that he should try to think of it as more than that.
But every day they spent time in the art studio, he watched her out of the corner of his eyes. His hands moved with charcoal staining his fingertips as she worked with watercolors. His lips twisted as he watched her and wondered what made her tick.
Beautiful Lana, he thought to himself, his eyes tracing down her form while she stroked across the canvas with her paintbrush. Beautiful Lana who can never be mine.
Someday, perhaps a far-off day, she would be his. Not spent in his bed after love-making. No. They would talk into the wee hours, just taking time with their words, staring up at the ceiling scattered with peeling glow-in-the-dark stars. She would giggle and say something about constellations and astrology. And he would listen — of course he would — as she talked and talked and talked.
