𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 | tom blyth

.006 // claire

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     "THIS LOOKS expensive."

"Treat yourself," Rachel whispered. "You deserve it."

"How?" Claire moved the chicken breast pieces in front of her with her fork. It was perfectly cooked, tasted amazing, and made her feel guilty. "I'm not working on a big blockbuster like you are."

"You can still deserve something by being a good person."

"And who said I was a good person, Rachel?"

"Me," Rachel countered with a pop of a fry in her mouth. It irritated her how simplistic life could be for the brunette cousin. Amazing voice, great acting chops, and the confidence she could exude—fake or not, it was impressive. After chewing the fry, Rachel leaned forward to talk to the guy next to Claire. A glint of something appearing as she spoke loudly enough for the table to hear.

"Matthew, did you know that Claire can drive a yacht without crashing it?"

The guy beside her shook his head. He wasn't an actor on set, but he did have other acting projects he was working on in Germany at that moment. Apparently, according to Rachel, they had known each other for years and even did a short film together. He wasn't bad looking, but definitely not Claire's type. "No, she didn't mention that yet," his eyes met hers and she looked away.

They were a pretty green and had dark lashes to surround them. He lifted his hand and placed it on the one holding the fork, as if they were on some romantic date and physical touch was allowed or wanted. "I'd love to hear more about that, Claire."

"Ah," was all she let out before pushing her chair back and standing up. She could feel his eyes move down her body, but it was the least of her worries. All she cared about was getting away from the table without making a fool of herself. "I actually have to grab something real quick. I'll be right back."

"Claire!" Rachel exasperated, leaning back against the back of her own chair. The Calloway girl knew what she was doing. She was so close to embarrassing Rachel by yelling at her. To give her a few choice words for being too involved in the love life Claire didn't want any part of.

Rushing out of the back of the restaurant, Claire stood against the building's wall. It was secluded. She could cry in peace and stitch herself together before anyone noticed how long it had been since they'd last seen her. Hearing footsteps follow, the only thing Claire had enough energy for was to push them away. "Fuck off, Rachel!" she sighed, face reddening with being overwhelmed.

"You're in luck," a male's voice stated softly. "It's just Tim."

A chortle escaped her lips before turning to see the man. "Saving me again?"

"No," Tom shrugged before standing beside Claire and gently grabbing her hand to pull her down with him until they were both seated on the hard ground. Grassy yet hard with dirt and pebbles. "You can handle yourself, Claire Calloway. I'm just here."

Silence engulfed her. Tom looked forward. There wasn't much else to say so they both stayed quiet. Claire didn't know if it was her, but she couldn't ignore the tension between them. It seemed like everything was happening so fast—wait, no. There was nothing. She was being delusional.

"Tom?" Her voice was a whisper. Her eyes didn't leave his side-profile. Her hand was still in his and the sun was disappearing by the minute.

He turned to look her way and gave her a small upward turn of the corners of his lips.

"You don't think you can handle me?" she questioned.

"I don't have you yet," he stated, as if Claire's question had an obvious answer to it.

And with that, she gave him her second genuine smile in a long while. "Come on," Tom stood and kept her hand in his as she followed his stance. "Let's get through this dinner and see where the night takes us, yeah?"

Claire's hair shifted as she nodded her head. The tears brimming her eyes ceased to exist, and for once, didn't fall when they wanted to. "Without everyone, maybe?"

"Anything you want, I'll give you."

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hehe twitter posts next chapter <3