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means writing angsty Kate/Juliet fic, apparently.
Sawyer's busy reading in the living room, and Juliet washes dishes, thinking of Kate's lips, her hands. Kate's skin is soft and her touch is gentle. Her green eyes are stormy seas of emotion and her nervous smile is probably the most beautiful thing in the world. She recalls her thin body trembling in her arms and how she never wanted to let go. How she wanted to say more, but the words fell away from her. Her beautiful skin. Ivory dusted with...freckles. His nickname for her. But that afternoon, that Kate, so raw and vulnerable, had been all hers. Had come at her like parched, like Juliet was the only water left on the island, an urgency that had startled her at first, yet her body responded of its own accord.
She had wondered what kissing Kate might be like. It was mere curiosity, mostly based on the effect she had on James. She supposes she should feel closer to him now having shared the experience, yet what she feels is closer to jealousy. Of their entire connection. Of...the ways in which he's experienced her. Of course, these cravings are irrelevant. She's happy playing house with James, very happy. And Kate came at her in a weak moment- maybe she could have been anyone. Just a source of comfort. There is no reason for it to happen again.
But that brings with it its own regrets. She can't help but wish she'd let things go farther. If it was never going to happen again. If it was going to be this one-time thing they never told anyone about or discussed again. It had all happened so suddenly and maybe it wouldn't have been fair but Kate didn't seem confused. Emotional but not confused. Would that have been the end of it then? Would she have been able to stop thinking about Kate's slender fingers tangling in her hair, her soft lips pressed against her neck? Probably not.
James hollers that he's going to bed. She realizes she's been washing the same plate for a good fifteen minutes. "I'll be there in just a bit," she calls back. And then he's right behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Well, don't take too long," he murmurs into her hair. Her hands shake and the plate slips from her fingers. "Dammit, James!" She thinks she might burst into tears. "Hey, take it easy. It's just a plate. " She waits for some sarcastic quip to follow, but none comes. He's staring at her bewildered, concerned. Of course he is. This isn't like her at all. What the hell is wrong with her? "I'm sorry," she says, smiling calmly. "Just feeling strangely on edge tonight."
Sawyer's busy reading in the living room, and Juliet washes dishes, thinking of Kate's lips, her hands. Kate's skin is soft and her touch is gentle. Her green eyes are stormy seas of emotion and her nervous smile is probably the most beautiful thing in the world. She recalls her thin body trembling in her arms and how she never wanted to let go. How she wanted to say more, but the words fell away from her. Her beautiful skin. Ivory dusted with...freckles. His nickname for her. But that afternoon, that Kate, so raw and vulnerable, had been all hers. Had come at her like parched, like Juliet was the only water left on the island, an urgency that had startled her at first, yet her body responded of its own accord.
She had wondered what kissing Kate might be like. It was mere curiosity, mostly based on the effect she had on James. She supposes she should feel closer to him now having shared the experience, yet what she feels is closer to jealousy. Of their entire connection. Of...the ways in which he's experienced her. Of course, these cravings are irrelevant. She's happy playing house with James, very happy. And Kate came at her in a weak moment- maybe she could have been anyone. Just a source of comfort. There is no reason for it to happen again.
But that brings with it its own regrets. She can't help but wish she'd let things go farther. If it was never going to happen again. If it was going to be this one-time thing they never told anyone about or discussed again. It had all happened so suddenly and maybe it wouldn't have been fair but Kate didn't seem confused. Emotional but not confused. Would that have been the end of it then? Would she have been able to stop thinking about Kate's slender fingers tangling in her hair, her soft lips pressed against her neck? Probably not.
James hollers that he's going to bed. She realizes she's been washing the same plate for a good fifteen minutes. "I'll be there in just a bit," she calls back. And then he's right behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Well, don't take too long," he murmurs into her hair. Her hands shake and the plate slips from her fingers. "Dammit, James!" She thinks she might burst into tears. "Hey, take it easy. It's just a plate. " She waits for some sarcastic quip to follow, but none comes. He's staring at her bewildered, concerned. Of course he is. This isn't like her at all. What the hell is wrong with her? "I'm sorry," she says, smiling calmly. "Just feeling strangely on edge tonight."