It feels like I haven’t had a Friday post in forever, but it’s only been a few weeks. Now that Wendy’s discontinued #WOW555 and is reorganizing her writing community, I’ve had to find a new prompt series to inspire my Friday posts. Some time ago, I participated in #FlashMobWrites, which will become one of my new sources of weekly story-telling juice. Last time I participated, I was able to work in both prompt phrases. This time around, I only managed to fit one in, but I’m pretty happy with how the piece turned out. Predictably, it’s still to do with Videl, kind of a continuation of yesterday’s #ThursThreads response.
Prompt: “forget it was real”
I try to forget it was real, but the ghost of his touch lingers. Nothing I can do will make it go away, and even if I keep myself busy, my mind eventually wanders back to that moment against the wall. Marcus’ lips were a temptation I never imagined succumbing to, and yet here I was – pining for another kiss.
He sits at the other end of the couch, occasionally fidgeting with his glasses, eyes focused on yet another book as the same old copy of Doctor Faustus rests in my lap. I must have read it a thousand times, stealing glances at him between lines, between pages. Sometimes I think he managed to forget it happened, because we’ve gone back to normal. It’s been weeks and he’s made no hint, no indication that something happened between us. Well, nothing of consequence happened – it was barely a kiss – but there was something there. What would have happened if we weren’t interrupted?
Abruptly, he gets up, shutting the book with one hand before placing it on the desk on the other side of the room. I pretend to be engrossed by my reading material. “How did your assignment go?”
It’s the first time he’s alluded to anything relating to that moment. I completed my assignment a week ago. “It was fine. You were right – it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.”
The assignment in question involved me tempting someone – a guy – into cheating on his spouse. They’d been married fifteen years and all it took was the bat of an eyelash and a few well-placed looks over a couple of days. Although we didn’t have sex, I still had to bathe for hours afterwards.
He chuckles – not the response I was expecting – before settling into a smirk. “Good.”
Marcus hovers at the door, apparently caught between saying something else or letting the conversation die. Something about the way he looks at me makes me want to pull the blanket closer around myself and bury my face in the book again. Instead I meet his gaze head-on, raising my eyebrow. Is he going to say something or not?
“Do you feel guilty?” What the hell kind of question is that?
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Most people like us don’t actually have the capacity for guilt – not after selling our souls.”
“Well I didn’t sell mine, remember? Just because you don’t have a moral compass, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Maybe I could have done without snapping at him, but I don’t care.
“I never said I lack a moral compass.” His words are quiet, and I find them hard to believe. He sold his soul – what kind of moral compass could he possibly have?
“So you feel guilty?”
“About what?” The question escapes before I can stop it.
Instead of answering he offers me a smile – not cold, but also not entirely genuine – before walking away.
What’s he hiding behind that smile? Even I’m still getting to know him. I think the reason I enjoy starting new stories (more often than I actually finish them) is because I love the process of discovery involved in developing my protagonists. These people just pop up and go “love me!” and I can’t help but comply.
Be sure to check out the other entries and/or submit your own! The contest is open until Saturday at Midnight PST (Sunday at 3AM EST).
As always, think happy thoughts!
Image Credit: Image found via Google Image Search on quotehd.com