A Distraction

Everyone has a thing, for some people it's the crack head, for others it's the athlete. For Saphire Winston, it's the middle class complicated one. When at a party with friends, Saphire is greeted by the smooth talking player Miles Larc. They hate each other, they are nothing alike. But when Saphire starts to use Miles as a distraction, the two soon find out that there more alike then they thought. soon enough people start to change, but is it for the better or for the worse?

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3. The Larc's House

My house is pretty nice, middle class if you were wondering. But you always have that one house that is bigger and nicer and BIGGER then yours. You know, the rich family living in a middle class neighbourhood to make them seem richer. That house is Miles Larc's house.

I can't help but be mesmerized by the house as I drive into the long driveway and walk slowly up to the glass door front steps. Before I can even knock on the translucent door, Miles pulls the door open, my hand still in a fist positioned right where the door stood.

“Well it's about time you show up sweetheart,” he says with his so called 'Award Winning Smirk'.

“Well, I see you're eager,” I scoff while pushing past him into the house. This is clearly one of those houses where the owners would get pissed if someone where to get dirt on the floor so I slip off my flats and neatly kick them near the door.

“Are you here by yourself?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“Where are your parent's?” I ask thinking back to my conversation with Adam earlier.

“You know what? I have no idea, probably on Europe or something like that.”

I look around the house with my eyes, as much as I hate to say it, it's breathtaking. “Want the tour?” he asks, “because I would be happy to show you around.”

“Nope,” I say popping the P. “I just want to get this stupid thing over with.” I smile.

“Fine. Your loss,” he sighs. He takes my wrist and brings me up two flights of stairs, into a living room, and then drags me to a hallway that leads to another set of stairs, how could somebody live like this? In such a big empty house with a few billion stairs?

“Umm. . . where are we going?” I ask.

“To my room of course.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh fuck no!” I yank my hand away from his grasp. “Only God knows how many disease are lurking and crawling in that room,” I state half whining half laughing.

“Haha very funny,” he says sounding bored.

“Can't we just work in the living room? I mean I still might get crabs from sitting on the couch but at least I can trust the floor 99% more then your floor.”

“You said you wanted this to be over with. If you want it to go fast, we have to use my laptop, and my laptop is in my room,” he explains like I'm a child. I sigh and go up the last set of stairs. “You know most girls would jump at the opportunity to go in my room...” he says as he open's his bedroom door.

“Unfortunately I think that's true.” He guides me inside his room and I awkwardly sit on his bed.

His room is not at all what I expected it to be. It's clean and organized except for a few x-box games lying on the ground next to his flat screen. I also didn't expect him to have a whole bookshelf of books. . . that weren’t all naked girls on motorcycles. He walks over to his bookshelf and takes out 'Divergent', he then sits in his computer desk chair, skimming the pages of the book.

“So, did you have any ideas for the assignment?” he asks.

“Please don't tell me this is going to be one of those times where I end up doing all the work and putting your name on it.”

“Wow, loosen your tampon. I was just asking for your opinion.” He chuckles and says, “you know your really stubborn.”

I laugh, “yeah, I've been told before.”

“So I was thinking I'll photoshop the poster and you can do the scenes?”

“No way! I got a 98 on media arts last year. I'll do the poster, the casting, and the locations. You will do the scenes, that's final,” I say crossing my arms.

“So demanding, you are,” he says in a horrible Yoda impression.

“I'm just trying to get a good grade, let's just get to work.”

“Yes sir,” Miles salutes.

For the next two hours we think and share ideas. We use some of his, mostly mine. After about three hours we have all of our rough drafts sorted out. I tell him to email me the six scenes in return for a cast list and rough sketch of a movie poster, he agrees. I start to pack up my bag. “I can show myself out,” I say standing up. He walks out from his computer desk and grabs my wrist dragging me to sit beside him on his bed. “Miles I'm not letting you get in my pants, have I not made that clear yet? I mean you should know this stuff.”

“I know, I just want to talk,” he says, his eyes show concern.

“okay, about what?” I ask cautiously.

“The night of the party, why where you crying?” Shit. It's now that I remember him coming to my house after midnight. I can't tell Miles Larc why I was crying. I have never told anyone about my dad, my friends don't even know what he looks like. I don't even consider Miles a friend, why the hell is he concerned?

“It's been rough at home,” is all I say when I start to get up but he brings me back down.

“Why is it that every day your eyes seem to glisten like glass and fill with tears? Don't act like I don't know what I'm talking about, I see it almost every time I talk to you. Even if you try to blink them away or break my gaze I still see you.” He put's his hand on my knee, all I can think is 'HE'S TRYING TO TRICK YOU!' I quickly brush his hand off my knee.

“Why do you even care?” I yell. I have every right to yell, to scream. Family is a touchy subject, it doesn't matter who brings it up.

“Saphire I may be a dick, but I do have a heart.” I laugh at that.

He leans close to my face, if I move one inch, I would be kissing him. Instead he moves an inch and he is now kissing me. His lips are warm and this kiss feels nothing like to one at the party. The feeling of kissing back is weird, but it distracted me from whatever else we where talking about before. He puts one of his hands in my now dried golden curls to deepen the kiss. He starts to kiss down my neck while I try my best to take off his shirt. He pulls back and takes off his and throws it on the ground, he then does the same with my shirt. Our pants soon join our shirt and we are just in our underwear. He undos my bra and takes off my panties, like a pro, while I fumble with his boxers.

My eyes grow wide at the sight of him rolling on a condom from his night stand. He kisses me again and soon we are having sex. My thoughts are muted and distracted.

* * *

We lie on the bed panting. I feel disgusted with myself. It felt soo right to do, it made me forget about home.

I look at Miles, he seems, amazed. He's smiling. I just sigh, get up, put my stuff back on, and leave his room with out saying anything. I can hear Miles walking after me, I try to go faster, but it's hard to find my way around. I feel heat behind my eyes, NO! I wont let the tear fall. The tear falls. “Saph, wait,” once again Miles takes my wrist, only this time, it's the one that got cut from the beer bottle glass. Even though it's covered it still sting. I quickly pull my wrist free with a yelp. “Saphire are you cut-”

I walk out the front door before he has the chance to finish. The car ride home was filled with frustrated cries and screams. And although I feel like this, I'm drawn to how it felt a few minutes ago when all this shit seemed to disappear with Miles Larc. I understood now why girls will have sex with Miles Larc, it was a way to sort of escape reality for a few minutes. I also understood another thing, there is no way in hell that that will be the last time I use Miles Larc as a distraction.

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