#clembakerson

“You’ve been starin’ at him a lot.”

Hank startles, something hot and shameful burning through him. “It’s not– Clem, yunno I’d never fuckin’--”

“I know.” She pats his arm. Usually, he’d revel in the touch, especially when she’s looking so good in her bathing suit. The guilt prevents him, though. He feels a little sick with it. “Hank, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Just be fuckin’ honest. You don’t look at Art as just a friend; you look at him the way you look at me.”

He sputters, “You– you don’t mind?”