honey trap

Romy chuckled amused, letting her eyes roam over his chest. There was no harm in checking him out, after all. “As am I.” It would be hypocritical of her to leave her shirt on now, wouldn’t it? Besides, if she got in trouble her dad would have to come home. 

As she took off her shirt, Jamie simpered, close enough to feel her breathe. He then leaned in for her neck, placing a kiss on it and staying there, mouth against it as he congratulated her with a whisper. “Good girl.” Returning to the previous position, the boy looked down at her breasts pursing his lips and then nodded approvingly. “I’ll give you friendly advice. Never wear a shirt again. They’re all ugly.”

Summer just laughed, not even turning around this time. “It’s sad she’s so jealous of me she has to make up this stuff about me. I never said that, but I know it must be a favorite wet dream of yours.”

“Yes, because nobody has feet big enough to satisfy my foot fetish, but you. And I am crazy about that zit on your face and how your eyebrows are almost straight lines. And I’ve always wanted to fuck somebody’s mom, which is truly your only purpose in my life. Isabelle is rotting with envy. Not only because of the eyebrows, but also because you’re where she’ll never be. You know how Isabelle has been trying a year now to become a nobody like yourself. It just isn’t for everybody, it seems.”

“Good point.” She wasn’t looking for someone that wanted to get to know her right now anyways, so she wasn’t bothered. “Just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’m a goody-goody. If you want this shirt to come off, you have to do better than that.”

Jamie sighed theatrically, a small, ingenue smile playing on his lips without meaning the innocence. “If you want something done well, you need to do it yourself.” He then grabbed the edge of his own plain white shirt and pulled it off with nonchalance. “I’m all for equality.”

“Good. Find what you love and let it kill you,” she quoted off-handedly. (It was part of her new philosophical phase.) “We could always dump them on some Hipster’s head. You know how they feel about Starbucks – and their hair could probably use the conditioner. Oh, and apparently Eric got, like, beat up, and there’s rumours he cheated on his loser Hipster girlfriend the other night, so it doesn’t take a genius to put two-and-two together. It just helps that I’m basically a genius.” (This was also part of her phase.) She got into the passenger’s seat as asked, but didn’t bother with the seatbelt. “I don’t believe in pretending or regret.” (That, too.)

“That rule doesn’t work every time. For instance, I would never kill you,” Jamie pressed a hand against his chest theatrically, speaking with false humbleness. “I’m not really in the Eric Gillmore fanbase, but if I do recall correctly, the girlfriend is the girl who... saved my life. My hero, really. I couldn’t do that.” He was a moment away from bursting into laughter, but he let it at that for now just to see a reaction. It wasn’t that he was expecting one, and he didn’t even want to talk about it, so there was no reason for bringing up that incident, but Jamie did it anyway. “What’s a God to a nonbeliever?” he dramatically quoted his favorite philosopher in a deadpanning voice, finding it difficult not to hum the song.

“…I hate to disappoint, Jamie, but there’s nothing perfect about me.” Quite the opposite, actually. At least, that’s how she felt, as of late. “Or maybe you’re happy to hear it.” It was hard to tell with him.

“And yet, you say that smiling with that smile,” he complimented her, targeting it smoothly, though he had to admit it wasn’t a bad smile either, no matter how much he was honeying and preparing his words beforehand. “Navy-blue could never make me happy, Corrina. Sorry.”

“Doughnut? Aw, Jamie. You’d go through all that trouble for lil’ ol’ me? I’m touched.”

“Well, is that not your name? Any time. Any efforts gone into crushing bugs are worth it. Don’t be. You’re misleading the audience. I would never touch you.”

Clarke furrowed his brows, confused, but his face once again relaxed when he caught Jamie’s drift. “Ah. I see you, dude.” He mock saluted and winked.

Turning around and stopping from walking for a moment, he hovered a hand over Stanley’s eyes jokingly. “Now you don’t,” he winked and kept walking afterwards to the car.

“You don’t know me very well then.” She teased him, chuckling when he called her a nice girl.  “Aww that’s cute, you think my shirt would come off for you that fast?” 

“I don’t know you at all. That’s what makes it fun,” he reminded her without losing the grin. “No, I don’t think your shirt would come off that fast. That was exactly my point, nice girl. You fear a little challenge. It’s not uncommon at all.”

Although it didn’t seem like it from the way she so often asked Jamie to pick her up and take her places, Isabelle loved driving. She just loved people doing things for her more. So she was happy about this. Her gratitude didn’t come in the form of punctuality (as it took her exactly seven minutes from when he honked to actually come out of her house, sunglasses on), but drinks – an orange juice in one hand, a Starbucks frappuccino she’d found in the fridge in the other. She opened up with car door with her foot, before spotting what was in his cup holder. “Wow, this is awkward.”

“Orange juice? How dare you? I’m allergic,” he pretended to be outraged, slapping the wheel in faux frustration before bursting into a light chuckle. “I guess now we’re gonna have to throw away all four of them just by principle. Or spit in them and donate them to a freshman. But get in. We’re pretending to regret being late today.”

Romy was surprised when he took the lead of the kiss, but she wasn’t complaining. When he broke the kiss and started talking, his words sounded like a challenge and there was no way she was backing down. “Oh really?” She didn’t have anything to prove, but kissing him was fun so she didn’t want to stop just yet.

A devilish smile spread across his lips, trying to be sheepish as if he didn’t know this was bait, phrased as a challenge for her to take up. “Such a nice girl like yourself,” he pouted, speaking as if from her point of view, “... and the wide open halls of the school... I don’t think you even know how to take off your blouse.”

“The worst color. Really?” Corrina raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to know.”

“If I knew you were this terrible, I wouldn’t have bothered to ask. Help me forget this one mortal flaw that you have. I knew it couldn’t all be perfect about you, but navy blue? My goodness..”

A few months ago she wouldn’t have done something like this, but now she didn’t really care. Live life to the fullest, right? Romy put her hands in his hair, playing with it as she deepened the kiss. 

Jamie took full lead of the kiss, lifting her chin for convenience with his thumb, keeping his hand somewhere between her neck and jaw, cupping it, before sliding down her neck. Then, against all impulses, he broke the kiss without killing the lack of distance, still close enough to feel her heartbeat. “Yes. I’m now convinced you can’t play the game with me,” he nodded in a tease, expecting confusion, turning it all into a dare.

Clarke grinned. “I didn’t even know you smoked, Jamie.” Never judge a book by it’s cover…that’s what was going around Twitter, at least. “Nah, I’m good wherever.”

“Who, me? Smoke? Who said I smoke?” he acted innocent, because when asked, the answer was mainly no about anything but the never missing cigarettes.

“It’s cute if you think I won’t find a way to harass you from beyond the grave.”

“Well, Donut, if I have to add ghost hunter to the list of my heroic attributes, so be it. It’s all your choice.”