primadonna girl || wilbur soot

Chapter Thirty

[REAL LIFE]

Clara leans up against Wilbur's desk, looking down at him as he sits in his chair.

"Alright, how are we going about this?" Clara asks.

He leans forward.

"Well first of all let's set some ground rules."

"Rule one: all beverages and food must be available for takeaway so that the meal can be consumed altogether. This rule is only nonapplicable if the dessert chosen is an ice cream cone. Ice cream cups however can be takeaway, and can be stored in a freezer, therefore the rule still applies."

"Okay, okay, I like it. Rule two: it doesn't have to be fancy. Just a basic arnold palmer could work as a drink. In fact, eating a scrappy meal could just make this even better."

"Agreed. Rule three: you're driving and I'm the passenger princess."

Wilbur had driven to the office in the morning and left his car in the parking lot nearby, choosing to bike to the marina before taking a cab to go pick up George and Clara.

"Rule four: one person must remain in the vehicle at all times so that I don't have to look for parking and I can just stand outside the place," Wilbur adds on. "Anything else?"

"Four is enough. I hate rules anyway."

Wilbur laughs.

Clara claps her hands together. "Right then, shall we commence the rock, paper, scissors match for the drinks round?"

"I suppose we shall." Wilbur holds out his hands dramatically, poised to play.

"Says shoot, or just shoot?"

"Says shoot," Wilbur clarifies.

Clara meets his eyes, competitive spirit flaring up.

"Rock, paper, scissors, says shoot!" They both cry in unison.

Wilbur has thrown out rock while Clara has put out paper. She pumps her fist in victory.

"Did you know men are more likely to throw out rock? I knew it, I knew it!" She jumps up from her spot leaning on the desk and she does a little happy jig.

"Alright alright." Wilbur pulls her by the waist closer to him, hand wrapping lazily around her hips. She puts her hands on his shoulders, looking at him with a tilted head and mirth in her eyes. "Where will we be going for drinks, love?"

"Bubble tea!"

"Oh, good choice! We'll go by Mooboo."

"Now for the side dish!"

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Clara splays in the passenger seat of Wilbur's car. He puts his hand on the back of her seat to reverse, and her cheeks heat. Wilbur notices and questions her about it.

"I don't know it's just... hot."

Wilbur's lips curl into a cheeky smirk.

"Hot is it? You think so?"

Clara nods enthusiastically, making him laugh.

"Yes now shut up and drive. I'm so hungry I could literally eat the foam from your fucking headrest."

For some reason, her words make Wilbur giggle.

When they're comfortably on the road, Wilbur pulls his hand back from her seat and instead rests it on her right thigh, squeezing gently as if to make sure that she really exists, checking if this is all not a dream.