Thursday Evening

A/N- Thanks for the reviews. Still writing this to try something different

Cade: Jon loves the whore's eyes, and his rapier wit. The wit is hinted at in here.

Time-frame is also hinted at in here. A while, though.

Everything else you asked revolves around the plot a bit. The name will be revealed soon enough. Update after next chapter. (8)
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I knew when he had said, “take me home,” he meant my place. I’d seen the way he looked there. His eyes hid less, somehow. They were brighter then they ever were in the car. And he smiled more.

We drove in silence. Maybe I should have asked a question I’d been wondering for the better part of a year. Or maybe I should have rested my hand on his. But I enjoyed the quiet. It was different from the banter that had started this. Or the moans. It was different. So, I could stand this silence. It was enjoyable, in an odd way.

He was staring out the passenger window, looking drowsy. As if he trusted me enough to sleep in my presence. He never did that before.

At my place, I’d have to ask questions. Have to. About his absence, if nothing else. And why. Why had he refused the money? What started this? How’d he gotten into that field? Everything, really.

I couldn’t buy him now, I suddenly realized. It would not be allowed.

But we’re here, and he removes himself from the car as if he’d been alert the whole time.

He has removed the trench coat. He’s still fully dressed. A record, perhaps. He seems perfectly content in what he’s wearing. And he’s standing, looking awkward, not looking towards the bedroom. He finally looks at me.

Now, I know I’m meant to ask. I can ask the question that I need an answer to:

“Where were you?”

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I stared out the window for most of the car ride. I don’t think I was looking for anything. I just didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t think I could ever feel as unclean as I felt after I felt that first time, but I felt that way then.

I thought about the amount offered. It was huge. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I didn’t want to, but it was significant. Not only did he come, and proved himself, he was willing to buy me at a high cost. Way above market.

And I turned it down. I couldn’t believe it, but I turned it down.

I wanted to put my hand on his knee, but I was afraid. Afraid I might lose my willpower. Afraid I’d go back to the old me.

So, I stared at shrubbery. Cars. Windows. Passersby. Pretended I was anywhere else but here, though there was no where else I’d rather be. Pretended that I wasn’t in the same car as the only person I knew that I now trusted.

At his house, I took off my trench coat only. I could not deviate from this plan.

“Where were you?” he asks, looking at me. He’s not accusing me. He’s asking. Simply asking, as if he were concerned for me. Worried that I’d been gone.

I don’t know how to begin. But I’ve been planning this, for a while. He’s owed this explanation.

“I couldn’t trust myself with you.”