Blueprint

Part 20 - A Platonic Alliance

Needless to say, I felt really good today. My hair was tied up into a midway ponytail, neatly brushed back, the curls brushing the beginning to the middle of my back. It was a style that exposed my face quite a bit, something I would typically avoid. But there was a peculiar energy in the air that surrounded me, the air that I breathed in. It filled my spirit with an insight I didn't have before. The fitted appearance of my grey dress pants and the black, sleeveless turtleneck against my body accentuated the curves in my physique, but it underscored a newfound sensuality, sensitivity, and awareness. After the party last night, the conversation I had with Harry was...eye opening. What was a sincere warning to stay away from the case turned into another forceful, assertive establishment of his power, his authority. I knew that this wasn't all about Harry, but he admitted there was something in it for him. The success of this case was beneficial not only to the men like Ernest, but to those like Harr. And who knows, maybe they're the same man.

Projecting any kind of repressed emotions I might have on this case, and the discovery of what I'm calling 'the truth', was not an initial problem I anticipated. Frankly, the idea of rushing into the exigency of this case and the presented risks brushed past me like the tactility of the danger was only a figment of my imagination, and that it didn't materially exist, and therefore, it wasn't real. I found myself disregarding the presence of that threat to my life. Harry's concerns were so dilapidated, spoiled, and saturated by his inability to express a single raw, sincere emotion that there was no rush to run away. No rush to give up, and quit, out of pity for my lack of skills, or because the man I crave shakes the ladder beneath my feet.

I couldn't be threatened by Harry's convincing act that he was interested in keeping me 'safe'. Mainly, I believe he just wanted me far from this case because I ran the risk of exposing the entire situation. Any sane person would walk away by now after hearing what Harry was so firmly explaining. Surely, all those nights and those weekends I spent with Harry would be evidence of how much he would never hurt me, how his intentions were always stated like they were. But, I had a gut feeling that I was being blinded by my own subconsciousness. She was nebulous, tricky, and deceitful. She never tells me what she wants, what she needs, what she truly desires. I am my subconscious, but I don't communicate with her. We experience a lot of miscommunication, and in that presence of such poor socializing skills, me and her just never got along. But she was pressing me, causing a few turns in my stomach and goosebumps on my skin every time she noticed something was wrong, or something she really liked. She was finally reaching out to me, and she was expressive, manifested in the form of my intuition. She told me that I needed to have Harry, my nude body pressed up against him as he's drilling me into his bed. But she also gave me a heads up that the fun in the lust and sex was...only short-term satisfaction, and it would bleed me dry in such a short time.

As I walk around the messy desks, half of the lamps turned off, others left on by mistake, I glance around the large office space. The setting sky and the stars that dotted it with lights were visible through the large glass wall that faced the city. It was a magnificent view, and I understand the appeal of the minimalist aesthetic. My quietness was usual of me, so no one asked about me, or possibly even knew of me. I kept to myself, and this was something that didn't change overnight. My focus on organizing my notes and my information was my priority for the day.

Throughout it, I'd see Akira leave the building every now and then. Journalists circled in and out, in a rush or in a devastated, frustrated slow stroll. I didn't pay much attention to them. Somewhere, at some point, I saw Logan, who looked at me and looked away, his light eyes blinking rapidly as his neutral face gave a sensation of discomfort. Ever since the party, he has lost interest in speaking with me. I'm certain that he got the idea that there was something between me and Harry, which I supposed signalled that I was only a potential sexual partner for Logan, and his interest in interacting with me was purely because in his eyes, I was reduced to a romantic interest, not worth any friendly interests at all. That or he was petrified by Harry's taunting, provoking gaze; I wouldn't blame him.