Chapter 35 Clara
Morning came without any enthusiasm. Clara was refusing to talk to Carver whenever Marsh wasn’t present, and Carver obviously didn’t care enough to try and bridge the gap.
Sure, her plan at the bar may not have been foolproof.
But it would have been something. She was doing so well at manipulating that man, she would have convinced him to take her to the weapons lab after they saw the creatures.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself to justify her anger with Carver. Anger wasn’t the only emotion flaring in her veins. As she repeated why she was angry at him, she couldn’t help the additional flare of heat from how he defended her.
Carver was already downstairs, likely flirting with Marsh. He had given the excuse she would have more space to get ready for the festival if he went ahead and left the room. She hadn’t objected. A few minutes without the constricting presence of her self-decided bodyguard? Yes please.
She took her time in the shower, enjoying the warm water running down her back. Carefully braiding her hair as she dried off, she chose one of the nicer outfits Marsh had presented to her. She almost didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.
The colors were too bright. The skirt too frilly, the top too emphasizing of what little curve she did have left after all her training.
The neck of the light blue tank was ruffled and scooped into a low V, tucked into her skirt that flared as she moved.
The skirt was a pastel yellow, dotted with flowers in the same shade as the tank.
She twisted and turned in the mirror, biting her lip as she stared at her reflection. She almost looked…pretty.
It wasn’t a word she had associated with herself in years. It felt too gentle, too calm. It covered all the fractured pieces she had become. But for today? She was pretty.
Having reached this conclusion, she smiled at her reflection and smoothed the top of her hair one last time.
Instead of a braid, she twisted a piece of hair on either side and pinned them, creating a crown like adornment.
The shoes Marsh left for her were sandals, and though she was entirely opposed to open toed shoes, it did go well with her outfit.
She walked down the flights of stairs, wondering what she would find.
With all of the rules they had broken, would Carver be hitting it up with Marsh?
She couldn’t blame him. She was attractive.
And from the way Marsh looked at Carver, she was attracted to him.
Clara wouldn’t voice these thoughts. Heaven forbid Carver have a legitimate reason to tell her she was jealous.
She wouldn’t give him that kind of satisfaction.
Nevertheless, she was relieved to reach the kitchen and see Carver sitting there alone. His chin rested on his palm as he stared lazily out the window. He didn’t look at her, and she wondered if he had noticed her arrival. Growing impatient, she cleared her throat.
“I knew you were standing there.” His tone was light, forced.
“Sure. That’s why you waited to comment until I cleared my throat.”
His gaze snapped to her and paused, taking in the outfit. “I paused because I was thinking.” His eyes roved over her body, making her flush.
“That’s a new action for you.” She answered teasingly.
“Disagree.” He hadn’t stopped staring at her, and Clara could feel her face flush.
“Would you stop?”
“Stop what?” He asked, carefully meeting her eyes.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what, Clara?” His voice softened as he said her name, and a rebellious part of her heart started to melt towards him.
“I don’t know. However you were looking at me a second ago. Don’t look at me like that.”
“How can I not look at you like that if I don’t even know how I was looking at you?”
“You’re confusing me.”
He laughed, “You’re confusing me.” He took a deep breath in, “You look great, Clara.”
She twirled in a circle, feeling more and more like the role she was playing. “Thanks, Carver.”
He stood, stretching his arms over his head as he yawned. His shirt came up just high enough to see the outline of his lower abdomen, and she glanced away before she had a chance to do or say something stupid.
“You look great too.” She didn’t sound as confident as he had with his statement, but it was true.
He wore a bright blue shirt that stood out against his tan skin, and was fitted across his chest. His khaki pants clung to his body and accentuated the fact he had more curves now than she did.
Complete with a pair of sandals that almost matched hers. They certainly looked together.
“Thanks, babe.”
“Don’t push it. I’ll still punch you.” She responded, but there was no malice left in her tone.
“What? You don’t like that nickname? I thought it could work as a term of endearment while we’re in public.”
“Find a different one.”
“So hard to please, my dear.”
“Better, but keep trying.”
“Oh. My. Word.” Marsh groaned stepping into the room, “You two never stop, do you? Why don’t you just have sex and move on?”
Neither of them responded, both staring directly at Marsh. “What? It’s not like you two aren’t aware of the sexual tension in the room. You’ve been working together too long. Sometimes you just need to get it out of your system.”
Clara laughed awkwardly, trying to clear the stifling air she suddenly felt. “That’s not the case with us.”
Marsh crossed her arms, “You can deny if you want. But I know what I’m seeing. Do us all a favor. Get it out of your system, and move on with the assignment. Your bickering is a waste of time, and a frustration to anyone who happens to be in the vicinity. Which currently, is me.”
She set a kettle on the stove, and turned it on.
Carver cleared his throat, “We’re heading out to explore the festival.”
“Good. You two should talk about what I said. Might save me a headache over the next few days.”
With that parting, Clara followed Carver out the door, very much wishing the earth would open up and swallow her. It was bad that Marsh had called them out on their attraction, but worse, she wondered if Marsh was right. Was it more of a sexual tension than a lingering attraction from their past?
She wouldn’t sleep with him. Of course she wouldn’t.
She wouldn’t while they were dating, and she wouldn’t now.
She’d always been a little too logical. She wanted to sleep with him of course, and they’d messed around, but when it came down to it, she was glad she hadn’t.
Far too many risks associated with that, and none were things she was willing to contend with.
“Soooooo,” Carver reached out his hand to take hers as they walked down the street. “That was interesting.”
“You’re not getting in my pants.” The tips of his ears flared red and he wouldn’t look at her. She felt a surge of pride for making him uncomfortable.
“What? I, uh, I wasn’t asking to.” He sputtered.
“Good. Because it’s not happening. This isn’t sexual tension.”
He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand and she had to resist pulling away from him. “It’s not? Then what, my dear, would you say it is?”
“Unresolved emotional trauma.”
“Ha. What textbook did you pull that out of?”
“It makes a lot more sense.” She insisted.
“Not really.”
“Um, are you admitting you do want to screw me?”
His ears had finally toned down, only to flare red again. “Not at all.”
“But you just admitted that sexual tension makes the most sense. If you think it makes sense, you must feel sexual tension towards me, ergo you want to screw me.”
“You know what?”
“What?” She smiled up at him, but he kept his eyes on the crowd.
“I don’t think this conversation is productive. Towards anything. I think we should just move on.”
Clara noted his frustration with satisfaction. She definitely won that conversation.