MEA CULPA.

"Oh, is that right? Is this embarrassing??"

Waverly nodded, adopting a faux nature of seriousness for a moment as she responded. "I can always sense a fellow bookworm. It's a heavy burden to bear." Upon finishing this statement, a mirth reflected in her blue eyes and she broke out into a quiet laugh, clearly indicating amusement at the joke she'd just spoken. Internalizing Alaric's question, the blonde glanced down at the book beside her "Oh, this? I mean I haven't really gotten far in, I only grabbed it a few moments ago. But what kind of things are you looking for? I'm happy to help find options."

"A sixth sense." Now, it was a chuckle that carried his words, reserved as to not disrupt the quiet. "I can appreciate that." His smile lingered on in appreciation of this moment's lightheartedness. In recent times, those past weeks to be more precise, life had felt a little lighter, the burden on his shoulders a little less heavy and Alaric found it strange, yet appreciated how the tides had changed - at least for the time being. "I'm looking for something a little out of my comfort zone. Something one might read on a vacation in the Caribbean." A beat. "Not that I have any plans on going on a vacation in the Caribbean." @waverly--erickson

Evelyn was very fond of Alaric. She liked his temperament, how intelligent and collected he was, and how they could so easily and enthusiastically converse about books. Today was no exception, especially when he led with the excellent age-old question: What makes bad writing? It was something Evelyn had thought about ever since she attended university and her views on it always seemed to shift the more she read, wrote, and studied. It was also a good subject to ponder whilst out for a walk in the fresh air.

In the brief time he had been acquainted with Evelyn, a certain understanding had built. A fondness for her appreciation of the arts, for literature and words. Her views on authors and stories and what made them compelling. There were few people he found it easy with to converse with, an exchange of words about words, that came with as much effortlessness and was met with an equal measure of genuine interest. He harbored an appreciation for their talks - those they had already shared, at the very least.

Joanna knew that with her words she was defying her own morals. With Jae, she had never once thought about looking at another man, much less exposing her dirty little secrets to them. There was a love there for Enzo, but it had slowly dwindled during the short period of their marriage, even if she kept up a good face for her in-laws and her own family. But she cared little for it at this point, for it wasn't the thought of her current spouse that kept her warm at night, but it was the thought of the man who currently took her breath away and sent her entire insides aflutter that did. A secret kept from even herself. Usually so confident and tall, she now found herself wobbling after him as he turned them about and towards the door, her bottom lip captured beneath her teeth as he closed it, giving them more privacy. She had fully neglected the fact it had still been ajar, only having eyes for him. Her head slightly tilted backwards at the placement of his hand, breath stuck in her throat from anticipation. It was as if their thoughts collided, though she had already given in a few seconds ago yet still uncertain what he thought with his deflective words -- ever the tease. The slightest of moans, easily mistaken for a breath curled up her throat when he finally kissed her. It was as tender as her teenage self remembered, making it feel all the more wholesome as she slid both hands upwards to his neck, pushing herself up in the process. @alaricfarrow

To compare the times seemed a dire waste of time. See what had changed from back when seemed futile, for Alaric did not want to grow estranged from this moment. Did not want for his thoughts to meander off someplace, that wasn't right here with her. Her lips' softness was immeasurable and he found himself spellbound by the sweetness of her tender touch. Lost in the closeness of her body to his, her arms around his neck and the sound, a breathless moan, that further intensified the longing, slowly burning underneath his skin. He could feel it crawling to the place her hands sat by his neck with a blazing touch, his perception in stark contrast to the moment's unmatched tenderness and Alaric realized their closeness might not be close enough for very long. Long fingers were buried in dark tendrils and he pulled back from her. Just enough to catch his breath. Eyes fluttered open, searching for hers through the wanton haze that reigned the air surrounding them. "We shouldn't be doing this." His whisper was barely audible, almost indistinct and the solitary instant of his voice of reason's overpowering. A short-lived victory, as Alaric guided her closer once more, his lips soon locked with hers for another kiss. Impatience slowly turned palpable and it swallowed his mind and every doubtful thought it had harbored some moments prior whole. @joanxwagner

For the first time in a very long time, Joanna watched him, studied him. Sure, she always had her eye on him, observing him and listen to him, watch his cues, but she began to think that she had missed a lot of them. Standing in front of him now, she felt like she hadn't been paying attention at all, that she had been taking them for granted. Now, she saw her reflection in his adoring eyes. His body dangerously close and yet achingly far. That was, until she saw his hand raise from the corner of her eyes and yet she didn't move an inch. She would feel safe with him, always, and never believe he would touch with with malice or anger. It wasn't until she felt his hand against her cheek, now flushed from the thoughts roaming her mind, that she realised she missed him. Missed what they had when they dated, no matter how brief or how young they were. She leaned against his touch for a moment, wishing to be closer. Yes she was married. Was wearing the ring that attached her legally to her husband, but she hadn't seen him in almost three weeks for so many times already she had lost count. They were connected now only by a document easily ripped out and their daughter, who at this stage was more excited to see her preschool teacher than her own father, as much as that broke her heart. When Alaric spoke, she let out a breath, mixed with amusement. "Ric." She said, smoothing her hand back up to his neck. Determination resonated in her voice. "For once, I'd like to praise your name with you in the room." @alaricfarrow

Thoughts were swerving, running in all directions aimlessly and all he knew was her. Her eyes, unique for so many more reasons than the different hues they held. The tenderness of her voice, sidling up to him like satin's immeasurably rich delicacy. How he could not shake the consciousness of her body's presence in such minimal proximity to his own. He felt the lightness of her motion, the way she subtly leaned into his touch and tension faded and ease slowly found him once more. It calmed his nerves, soothed the guilt, wearing down his conscience, even if nothing grave had taken place yet. It was a premature liability, owed to the person she belonged to and Alaric could only pray for fate to bestow mercy upon him, in spite of his sins. He swallowed, the lump in his throat a faint sensation he could barely acknowledge, as his thumb drew idle circles against her cheek's soft skin. And when Joanna spoke, with her hand against the nape of his neck, it all fell into place. It settled among the dwelling concerns, soon swallowed and drowned out by an overpowering longing. He took a step to turn them around. With the path leading into his office still ajar, it was another step taken backwards until Alaric, with his free hand, could reach for the door. A gentle push was all that was necessary to shield them from potentially prying eyes, his focus barely ever straying from her. His other hand finding its resting place against the nape of her neck, it was a beat that passed, contemplating whether this was the right call to make. The right lead to follow but it appeared to be too late for second thoughts. Fuck it. Bridging the distance, he leaned down, gently brought his lips to hers for a tender kiss. @joanxwagner

As was not entirely uncommon, Waverly had gotten taken in by a new title almost instantly after walking into the book store. Trying not to be in the way, the blonde had perched in the reading nook closest to the front door to evaluate the couple volumes she'd pulled off the shelf. The bell on the door announced people coming and going several times but the art teacher didn't look up being too deep in thought on deciding which option to purchase. It wasn't until she heard her name that Waverly was pulled from her little world. "Alaric! Hello, good to see you." she welcomed warmly, putting aside her new discoveries to stand up. "Has the siren's song brought you back once more?" the blonde asked in a tone full of friendly teasing.

It was a fleeting thought, gone the very moment Waverly had to come to have completely pulled herself from her seat's comfort. The dire nonnecessity of her hoisting herself into an upright position, despite the appreciation he harbored for the common courtesy. "You know I could never go longer than a week without a visit to a bookstore." Would she know, though? There was no second thought bestowed upon the revisiting of words that had been spoken. A smile remained steady on his lips and Alaric's eyes wandered, searching for the book that had claimed the woman's undivided attention before he had made his presence known. "What are you reading, currently? If I may ask." A beat. "I'm in need for some good recommendations." @waverly--erickson

There was a shift. Something that had changed but she couldn't place her finger on it. Or maybe she couldn't tell herself the truth that was staring her right in the eye. When she turned and faced him there was something unfamiliar in his eyes. All she knew was how her chest tightened and her fingers lightly trembled. We should go to High Pulse. The words were right on the tip of her tongue, anything to dispel whatever this was. They were friends. Exes from their teenage life, but friends now. Uncle Ric to her children, her rock in tough times. He'd gotten her through her husband's death and he was there when her current husband failed to show. Mismatched eyes jolted upwards when he pushed himself away from his desk, taking a step closer. Somehow it suddenly felt unholy, yet everything was telling her to stay put rather than move away. So instead she moved forwards, her fingertips capturing the part of his blouse that she had just unbuttoned. "I lied." She whispered, her fingers tracing along the edge of his shirt and his skin. "I don't want you to be irresistible to everyone else." @alaricfarrow

The atmosphere made his skin crawl. Alaric felt estranged from the sore sight of a familiar reality. Found himself catapulted into an alienness. It had been a roughly estimated time of two decades that had passed since the end of a teenage love and the What If's had been shoved into the gloomy recesses of his mind. Right there, where he could no longer trace their impactful obtrusiveness. Only a fool, blinded by the glamor of the reputation he'd built for himself, would dare suspect that Alaric Farrow would not act upon his worst instincts. His heartbeat accelerated and nervousness fluttered in the pit of his stomach like a hummingbird's wings. Frantic, though it did not translate into the gradual movements of his body, feigned calmness. Merely the subtle tremble of his lips gave it away, as Joanna decreased the distance and he breathed in. Brought air to sit in his lungs and he thought back on all the times a fleeting image of her like this had crossed his mind. Split second reveries, dismissed with remembrance. She had a family. A husband. Her fingertips against his skin, somewhere near the collar of his shirt, left a burning trail and it was then, that he drew in another breath. His hand's ascend to find its resting place against her cheek in a feather-light whisper of a touch was less of an automates response, but something miscalculated and slow crawling guilt began nibbling away at his conscience. His touch was an inquiry and he could only hope to not have trespassed a boundary. "Hm, I see." he hummed softly, carrying on with something barely above a whisper. "Are you sure about that?" @joanxwagner

“Fuck!” Katie cursed as she hung up the phone, paying no mind to the stares she received (including an elderly Karen and a woman with three small children). In response, all she did was glare before storming off, looking like a madwoman as she prepared to head for her car. She was in no mood today.

Confusion lingered on and all Alaric could think of was how little he understood. How difficult he found it to sympathize, to comprehend. Too often did he swallow down the bitterness, the anger and irritation, the grief and the sadness that wallowed in a pool of memories he longed to hold no knowledge of, any longer.

"I might take advantage of you if you keep on saying that." Joanna teased him, her lips curving into a crooked smile at his next chosen words. She always found a challenge in his voice, pushing her, making her strive for enlightenment, even if it meant she had to pull more out of that tough shell of his. Though, she liked to think that by now she was well able to crack it on her own, if she really wanted to. And she did, but then there was that little voice. "Bold of you to assume I don't already." She told him, giving him a light tap on his chest once undoing his button and then walking away. It was harder than it should be, her words tasting like venom in her mouth as she pretty much told him to flaunt himself before others, nearly held in place by the intense gaze of his eyes. Alaric Farrow was a strange and intriguing specimen. "Dealer's choice, is it?" She mused, stopping as she had been headed to the door but instead turned around to face him again. She watched him, trying to decipher the complex gaze that rested upon his features. And there it was. A strange warm tingle, small flutters, only spreading confusion in her head. It wasn't the first time, but still confusing. Her smile was gone now, fingers brushing against the fabric of her skirt. Her heel clicked on the ground as she took a small step closer again. "So do I." She told him, her voice softer, not meant to leave the confines of this room. @alaricfarrow

I'd let you. It was a shiver, a thrilling chill that crawled down his spine and the hairs on his arms bristled. There was a stark intensity, one that might have not been completely uncommon, though had never quite been this palpable between them. Now, his options of discarding the thoughts, accumulating into a heaping pile on the grounds of his mind and circling around a very particular focal point, were limited. Beyond his reach were the possibilities of noticing anything but her voice, the way it made him feel and for a moment, Alaric wondered if it was all nothing but a fragmented fiction. Something conjured up by his subconsciousness. Some wish that found its projection in the way her body moved and the way she made her words sound exquisite like white satin. He parted his lips as though in preparation to speak. But instead of turning his thought into a reality by uttering it and disrupting the tense quietness, that surrounded them like a fire, he closed his lips once more. Dumbfounded. For once, Alaric Farrow was at a loss for words and his fingers tensed around the desk's edge until his knuckles began to turn white. Joanna turned around and her gaze triggered waves of electricity, jolting through his veins and it was only then, that he realized he'd been holding his breath. So do I, were her words and Alaric couldn't help but wonder if they were still talking about the question: High Pulse or Latin Night. Wondered, whether these options had ever been their words' reference at all. He drew in a deep breath, finally and pushed himself from his desk and neared. One step closer. One step towards Joanna and nervousness rose. It was a wrongness, a bitter inkling he could not shake and yet ... "May I inquire what exactly that would be, Mrs. Wagner?" @joanxwagner

It was a gradual shift in the serene atmosphere that reigned the quietness of his office. One he had not foreseen and yet, when their eyes met, her voice turned into something soft like silk and it unfurled a weakness. Alaric had always had a soft spot for Joanna, but whatever this was, was different and subtle traces of this altered state might have been caught over years upon years, had one simply looked. Such good friends. He swallowed down his remark, pursed his lips slightly as to dismiss the lopsided smirk that threatened to unfold and forced the overbearing thoughts that were circling his mind to retreat. "Always," he stated, though knew she would recognize the irony that laced each syllable he sounded, as it had always been honest humility that he wore like an armor. "You should know by now." His voice sounded lowly still, his tone bearing lightness that was rarely found. Reserved for few souls alone. And as her fingers busied themselves with the undoing of his shirt's top button, she was met with a brief furrow of brows, before he sounded a laugh, quiet, almost tranquil, as though he feared its sound alone would give away the thoughts that came swirling back in this instant. He clenched his jaw, his smile lingering in spite of its softening edges and he had to remind himself that this would not happen. He lingered, stood still and observed her and let silence grow and it itched underneath his skin. As she rounded his table, he turned around, leaning against the desk while tracing her movements with his blue-eyed gaze. "Dealer's choice," he spoke quietly, his voice hovering above a whisper. "Though I will admit, that I do have a preference." @joanxwagner

with: @alaricfarrow.

Words captured his mind and claimed his thoughts hostage. As Alaric turned the next page of the thick novel, all those exterior sensations were blurred out and resembled shallow ghosts of something untangible. The chatter of students and the sound of a gust of wind rustling through the branches of an old tree he sat beneath. It all merged into a somber concoction of white noise and it unearthed this hallow sense of ease he only ever found once his mind was on a venture to things estranged from his reality. Though, as a woman's voice burned through the serenity, this peaceful quiet he's been lingering in, he raised his brows and his gaze. Fiery strands were the first things blue eyes captured and he wondered if he had ever seen her before. Student or professor? How flattering. "Professor, actually." He spoke, a smile conjured up to sit atop his expression, as he lay down his book, his focus shifting. "I'm terribly sorry, but I might have missed what you said." @rockwelladeena

Where: The Daily Drip

"Thank you." Politeness was a virtue Alaric had come to master over the course of his life and there were few things that could turn the masquerade into something sheer. Something translucent, for people to see the person lying beneath. Not like he knew. Of course not, for after all, the person who knew Alaric Farrow the least, was Alaric Farrow.