Claire Skimps It, page 5
I've had enough Edgar for today. I'd seemed drunk and used up for a while, looking a bit tired, heading to the living room to take a nap. It was the wisest thing to do at this point.
I half-sneezed when Amanda knocked on the door to check up on me. She got back from work and that was her first instinct. She was doing the things my parents expected of her, speaking Mandarin with obvious facial expressions. That was how I finally started to grasp the classy language intuitively, and she remarks on my learning speed, "You could probably do anything because of how quickly you'd adapt."
Amanda mixed Chinese-made maltose and iced coffee into two purple mugs and gave one to me. I grabbed it without thinking much about it. Lies, it was freakishly good, and I would've asked for more if not for my poky diet. I returned to college the next day.
“Claire.”
"Be quiet."
He looked confused. Edgar started over and tried approaching me more romantically. It was as if someone else possessed him—someone who knew how to girls.
I dropped the act in no time and replied nicely.
"Hey, Claire. How did your night go?" Edgar was just hitting my soft spots. He knelt and dusted my crisp white shoe with a pitch-black cloth. He was trying a bit too hard.
"Edgar, just say you love me. You're quite literally obsessed with me—a girl said."
Edgar liked the fact I went straight to the point, and it gave him some hope. He did things a bit differently than usual and invited me to a rich tea party in Canberra.
"Hey, you know. If you want, we could party in Canberra."
"So you're acting like rich fictional men."
"I have ways."
I took it and kissed him—he saw it coming and took it a bit more. We paused a bit and prepared for a long flight to Australia. I took my iPhone and informed Amanda of it. Just for the sake of doing so. She was fine with it, and we took off. Edgar stopped scrolling through his iPhone and just paused to look at me—as if he said something sweet and fluffy. I understood that look but I've never had sex in a plane before. The high-class flight allowed us to do so as we had a white lantern-lit room to ourselves.
"We like it here, right?" Edgar phrased. I grabbed his hand and took his fork, to eat boneless chopped turkey in a transparent bowl when he was about to do just that, so he took my plate and ate my meat (turkey if I have to say it again.)
"Yup, this place is luxe, arcane, and trendy at the same time. It's quintessence itself."
"You'll be living like this?"
"You've been paying attention."
"I know a girl." Edgar sipped iced coffee so fast I could infer his insides froze a bit—since I did the same thing at the same time. And the girl he's referring to is me. We strolled out of the plane when it was time, and we left the airport.
"Edgar, we're heading to Mandarin."
"I know that's where we're tea partying."
"I'll assist. You've done enough."
"So we're splitting—"
"Yes! It's my will."
"What about the tea party?"
"We'll have it there."
"Girl."
"Save it for later."
We popped up the tea party. The music was on point, the lights were switched between red, green, and gold. The vibe seemed so authentic. We were partying with a few friends and elites from overseas. There was no doubt all eyes were on us. I needed to skip to the tea of the party itself before some millionaire thirty-somethings see what they can do with another girl. I ignored one faster than literal teleportation and said I'm with someone else—which was true. A famous Aussie novelist and her crew had parts of their new novel narrated as an audiobook, which met a rapid rise in sales for a last-minute sponsored event. It was getting to the fun part. A tea-bringer pushes a covered gold armchair in our direction, finally. Never for once, despite being brought up in riches, think that tea can be pink. The teas were supposedly fruit teas, and they were multi-colored.
"Oh, lemme sip the pink one real quick. It's probably more sugar than a strawberry." "Just finished mine. Even sugar is not this sugary," Edgar comments, suggesting we try the green one. I saw where he was getting on.
I took a sip. "Is this supposed to be green tea or apple juice? 'cause it's tasting like both." That sounded like a line from the database of pick-up lines. We resume chats.
"I see what you mean."
"You mean taste, right?"
"Yes."
"You know, even though I may not show it, I truly enjoy what we're doing," I said, just after we sipped more colored teas.
"Yes, this moment needed us."
"You'll have to explain how a moment can need us when we needed the moment."
"That makes some sense."
"Some sense?"
"It's similar to how we exist in time, but time can exist without us."
"Wisdom."
"It’s common sense."
Edgar sounded modest about his abilities. It started to make sense why I liked him to begin with. And our moment there seemingly taught us something, so we flew back to Santa Barbara.
I was in the room in the castle, alone and studying for finals. Something I should have done a long time ago, even though I'm naturally talented and have studied good-enough bits. Self-studying wasn't exactly my thing as the class was where I was at my best. I phoned for Amanda's assistance since she's adept at most things.
Amanda holds my course's paperwork, “It's quite uncharacteristic of you for a basic phrase to dick you up so much, Claire."
“Yes, maybe I need to take a break."
"Better do, and stop skipping classes."
"I can skip as many classes as I want."
"Oh, you're charging at me."
"You're one old open book if you ask me."
"Never knew twenty-five is old."
"Jokes exist."
"Thanks for the reminder."
That was how she helped, and it worked. Edgar and I took the finals and came out with straight As. He was a tad lower on the percentile scale but it didn't matter much. We'd celebrated along with the other students because we were just as fun, exhibiting our happiest moods out there. Amanda judged we'd aced it all in a glance.
Amanda and I talked a bit:
“I know you all ate.”
“Starting to use modern terms?”
"Girl, you think I've been living in the Victorian era?"
"She's teasing or it's true," Edgar concludes.
Amanda opened the pitch-black limousine and we stepped in. My parents were inside, staying silent like we didn't sense their presence (but we'd seen that movie before,) and Ms. Bridgers zooms off to their palace.
The next morning, I somewhat reacted to a falling bottle of apple-lemon-sprite cocktail from the brown table, preventing it from plummeting—I'd caught it when barely seeing it drop and hearing it slip—feeling stunned a bit for exhibiting movie-like reflexes. I dare say I could take a role as the demon's daughter in the league. I had the slender physique of a fine warrior, so it would've been easy-peasy for me.
“Hey?” Brenna spoke, with her knife on the cutting board, torturing a few onions in the kitchen. She chopped it with machine-level kind of precision in a few seconds.
"You know, we're neighbors—we have time,” she said, after adding salt and a few mysterious spices to the pot. We knocked down ramen and chopped cow roast.
Edgar had just cycled to the palace, he checked us out like daily, with packs of delicious goodies in his bicycle's pocket. He wasn't a delivery guy or anything, it was his way of being a friend who makes a decent effort. We could tell the pizza and burrito were from the biblical garden, Edgar noted it was from Walmart when we inquired as if its mini-shop branding wasn't obvious. Chamberlain coffees were next—a treat held up by me, outing with Brenna and Edgar to the coffee shop in Santa Barbara.
It seemed like we treated ourselves to luxury things every hour. "So the three of us made it," Brenna lets out, when in the perfect position to take a three-person selfie. She did so when we clasped our cups of frosty coffee mixes. We took a stroll outside to my Tesla and left for my parents' field bearing three connected cottages. We prepared to try ourselves, gearing up in all-black, throwing two blunt wooden swords to Edgar when he was done dressing up, telling him to fight me.
"Oh, you're showing off."
We started sparring, and I dodged all his attacks as if I'd spent three years training in hell. He continued his swings, and I grabbed one that was pretty close. And I took a sword from him. He wasn't much of a challenge and I took him down in a few seconds with an arm on my back.
"You banged me up."
"Yes, I'm not just a pretty girl."
Brenna was next, and I knew she wasn't one to lowball because she was a fast learner.
"Brenna, do you wish to fight me?" I said, in a moderate British accent.
"Yes, give me a sword."
"Very well."
We exchanged swings for a few minutes, being evenly paired, we made some further moves with the swords and de-weaponed ourselves—jamming our boobs since I ended up hugging her to prevent her from falling.
"You won," Brenna yields.
"Not really, you could easily get up."
"Well, that's true. It was nice sparring with you."
"I'm glad you liked it."
We were being watched by filmmakers, and that's how I started dating them one at a time.
So we steered to our homes and took selfies before leaving. Amanda glanced at my warrior outfit and questioned, "Why are you dressed like a ninja?"
"It's a long story."
"Are you hungry?"
"Nope."
I pick up my green-cased iPad from the dinner table, trying to slip away from her.
She paused a bit, removing her light brown Chloé eyewear.
"I've got vanilla ice cream."
"I'm listening."
"Just freshen up and grab it from the fridge."
She sounded a bit like Edgar, using my feeble spots to get me into doing something, and it worked.
"Oh, Claire. That's quick," Amanda comments, probably expecting I'd take my time like a princess. She turned her phone when I appeared behind her.
"Girl, how did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Stop pretending. I took a look at you, and you changed positions in seconds."
"Ninja lessons."
"Oh."
I left for Edgar's home for the first time. He lived in Calabasas with his affluent mother. In a nice mid-sized glasshouse. Edgar introduced me to his mother, Daisy Chaines, the bestselling women's author and luxury estate director.
"Hey girl, here's mom. Daisy, here's Claire," Edgar said.
Daisy and I took it from here, "Oh, he told me bits about you. It's nice to meet you!"
"Your words are sweet."
"That's how I am."
"I know."
"You knew?"
"You have a son."
"Oh."
Edgar and I took the stairs and strolled into the concerningly neat room. We undress and lay in bed under a cozy white blanket. And what came to pass then left us in ourselves—if we’re talking about spice.
A little while, I got to move to a lush candle-lit castle in Santa Barbara, having been eyeing it these days, leaving Amanda and my parents to themselves. And I made a fierce first move as an eighteen-year-old—to live alone in such luxury, quite close to my arts school. I'd eyed this kind of freedom for a few months, being quite thankful for once. It felt like the secret formula to my posh girl era (I just had to be legal.) I was trained by the ones who'd eyed me long enough to be a major player, and I honed my skills in pretty much every walk of life. I'd taken a couple of lovers other than Edgar, deciding that I can't be exclusive to anyone so easily. That was how I got to know Jack Kyles. Even as an eighteen-year-old, he was quite experienced for a guy who dated a few girls passively. He knew his way in there, and I'd guessed that I was next so I prepared for his move. And we exchanged numbers before our first kiss, so he used me in the library against a bookshelf a day later. The next day I wasn't there for him because I was quite busy and we were only starting to know each other. I wasn't so focused on Edgar either, so I started taking things less seriously with him.
I strolled to the castle's reading room with Brenna, finely fired up by luxe-scented candles near the bookshelf filled with collector's editions from the local B&N, which had her attention—as if a teenager living exclusively in a castle isn't catchy enough. A little sooner, we'd spend the night in a bookish room cheerily buddy-streaming Kobo audiobooks on our iPhones corresponding to current reads in our e-readers—which I'd got from my solo shopping at Walmart about three hours ago.
When it was sunrise, Brenna and I strolled the castle's garden to the bubble tent, where we planned on seeing Jack, we weren't planning a threesome—it merely crossed our thoughts some seconds ago.
Edgar rambled the tent and held my hand, expecting to hear what I'd been up to lately.
"I mean, you just moved in—I probably should give you space…so it's Jack," he said, sitting so close to me on the light brown couch.
"It didn't go so deep."
"Deep?"
"Like seriously, you horny guy."
"Oh."
"Can we still kiss?"
"Sure, follow me."
"Where?"
"My room."
We hop in bed, smooching and fumbling while dressed in white shower robes—with him nearly seeding me a few minutes later when it became something else.
"Oh, that was close."
"Quite sloppy."
"Sounds familiar."
"By familiar, you mean Jack."
"Yes, be quiet."
Edgar and I walked the castle's garden, he steered home, and Jack drove in about five minutes later. Brenna leads him to the bubble tent, and we begin chatting. Brenna sits on the low-rise brown sofa and grabs her iPhone, Jack and I held hands passionately and kissed all in three seconds, which ends with me hitting a brown picnic box behind me by accident on two extra steps—the one which housed our treats and all.
"Claire, want to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"What we said we'd talk about when we did the iMessage thingy."
"Oh, I forgot. And I deleted the chat."
"Why do you hate me?"
"I hate you because loving you takes so much space."
"Which means you've considered loving me."
"Unfortunately."
"Good, we're friends."
"With benefits, know your place."
"As you wish, my darling."
"Don't call me that, we're not that close."
"Even though we'd—"
"Yes!" I said, cutting him short.
"Can I like, kiss you?"
"Be quick, dating me costs a lot of money," (before we smooched like lovers.)
"Your lips, the taste, as if it's pricey cabernet wine—you're so perfectly gorgeous. And I would do the things I can to afford a girl like you if I can't already."
"Tell me more, stop bragging."
"It's a family secret."
"By secret, you mean you merely inherited your mother's stash in Hawaii."
"Jesus! How did you know that?"
"I know some girls."
"Those girls are probably secret agents."
"They are, so there's no point messing with me."
"Taken, you can probably tell I'm obsessed with you."
"I know."
"OK, later."
"By later, you mean at midnight in bed together."
"Yes, I'm down for you," he said, before leaving for his cottage in Calabasas.
Enough time did pass, and I decided to quit things with Edgar—since we'd moved along better. "Jesus! You mean...it's over?" Edgar uttered in pure disbelief.
"Look, consider yourself lucky to have been part of my life—it's over now."
“So it's like thank you, next?”
"Exactement."
"We'd still hang around, right?"
"By that, you mean sex?"
"You speak the truth."
"Only where there's something in it for me."
"Understood, see you later."
“Wait. How do feel about this?”
“About our breakup?”
"Don't let me ask it again."
"It's what I expected, so I'm like cool with it. And let me be the one who said you deserve someone who wouldn't give up on you or someone who would if you wish it."
“I'd like to explore more about this new phase, so we wouldn't be a thing anymore."
"I totally get what you mean."
"Then you can see it's nothing personal."
"I guessed as much."
"Good."
"Luck."
He waved, strolling the castle's garden to his mother's white Tesla, setting the tone for my new boyfriend.
Jack Kyles
“So we're like, finally together?” He sounded surprised we could get together for real—when it's just really thank you, next. I was starting to fancy my dealings better because men barely get any genuine affection from me, and being the simp wasn't easier either, feeling quite confident.
What he said came to mind as he munched a strawberry pumpkin muffin. “Seems like, and it sounds good. Pass me one.”
Jack appeared relieved a bit, passing the white plating of pinkish muffins.
“I knew you liked me,” Jack said—when I took a bite. He was using some kind of mind game, acting as if he was irresistible—he was but that's barely why I took him on. “What if I did, my whore—you'd seen enough drama with riveting lush women on the big beds." He gave me that look—as if it isn’t rich people's newest word-of-mouth.
A while later, Jack approached me from the castle's kitchen with a tray of salad dressed with boneless chopped fish and a creamy Italian dressing—the guy said he could cook when he was chitchatting, so I'd granted him what he wished when he offered to prove it. And it was effing true. Maybe he made a deal with the culinary demon so he could reach such levels. But I could sense his seemingly pure motive—as if he wanted to prove something. Not like I required it in any way.
