“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’dalways 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.
36CARVER
