"Do you mind?" I slapped Clark's hand away from me once again, shooting him a look of irritation. "If you're so hungry, get your own plate."
Clark's eyes twinkled mischievously, "But it's better stealing from you." He shrugged. "Plus, you took the last mini quiche."
"Doesn't constitute you stealing from me." I huffed, putting my plate in my left hand, farther away from the stealing bastard.
It was Christmas Eve and we were in one of the many corners of the Ellington Manor's formal living room, turned away from the others. We had mingled for a little as soon as we entered, but soon the hors d'oeuvres table distracted us and caused us to hide away. But Clark and his sticky hands kept stealing from me, even though he had his own plate clutched in his hands.
But as always, we had been fashionably late due to Clark and I both taking too long on ourselves. Clark had to fix his hair properly (as always) and I had lost my earrings and was scrambling around for a good ten minutes while trying to straighten my hair. But soon we were ready and dressed to the nines, me with a forest green satin dress and Clark with a maroon jacket and black button up.
We had then left and made the hours drive to the outskirts where the Manor was located, spending most of the time debating on how to properly eat a cupcake.
It's obviously not sandwiching it. Clark thought otherwise.
"It's not stealing because it's my house." Clark smirked.
"That doesn't even make sense! God, I hate you." I glowered at him.
"That's not what you were saying last ni-"
"Ahem," a voice cleared, thankfully cutting Clark off. The prim and proper voice of Anastasia Ellington scared the wits out of me, causing me to immediately straighten my posture and paste a pleasant smile onto my face.
"Hello, Mother." Clark beat me to the punch, greeting his mother with a polite tone. His earlier playful glint had hardened into a guarded stare, and like mine, his posture was as straight as a pole. Rigid, tense.
"Clark dear, where were you yesterday? I tried looking for you but Finley said you had left early. You know what I've told you about leaving events early, it's not good for our image as a family."
"The wedding was wrapping up, and all the other teenagers had left. Even Dean left." Clark attempted to argue back, although his voice remained level.
"Don't worry, Dean got a good talking to already. Now have you gotten to meet your father yet?" Mrs. Ellington frowned slightly, turning her head to scan the room, a frown pulling at her face.
"Not yet. He seems too busy for us kids." Clark shrugged nonchalantly, a slight sneer making its way onto his face.
"Clark, don't be like that. You know how busy he gets." His mother shook her head at him, defending her husband.
"Well he's not busy enough to declare a sixteen year old the heir to his family's fortune and then do a series of interviews to confirm this plan without my consent."
"Clark Reese Ellington, not right now! Especially when we have guests, and especially not in front of your girlfriend." Mrs. Ellington turned to me, " I'm so sorry I didn't greet you immediately, Blake, how rude of me. But you must know how it is, of course! Moody teenagers and rebellion!" She chuckled to me, rather forcibly, whilst shooting Clark a look of warning.
"Oh, it's quite alright! I mean, I think we all get our mood swings and sudden rebellious streaks! I know I sure do!" I laughed airily, glancing at Clark who had his lips pursed.
"You? I doubt that, you're such an angel! Even as children, it was always little Clark stirring up the trouble!" Mrs. Ellington waved her hand in the air, letting out a soft laugh. "Oh there's Jasper!"
With those words, I could hear Clark let out a whoosh of air.
Before I could even let out a word, a tall figure had joined our little circle.
Jasper Ellington was a force to be reckoned with. With his dark hair, dark green eyes, and scary frown, his looks alone were enough to make someone uneasy. But with his tall stature and straight posture, the man was downright scary.
"Hello, dear. Clark," Jasper nodded to his son before looking to me, "And who might this be?"
"Dad, this is my girlfriend. You know Blake Graham, right?"
"Ah, yes. Harrison's daughter correct? I remember you as a little girl on your play dates with little Clark."
I nodded, the fake smile still on my face. "Nice to see you again, sir."
"Likewise," He briskly nodded before going back to Clark. "How are your studies going?"
"Fine." Clark frowned.
"All A's?"
"Yes."
"Any extracurriculars?"
"Honors society and Red Cross."
"How about lacrosse? You get the captain position?"
Clark waited a beat before answering. "Yes."
"How about your law course? An-"
"Jasper, why don't we not stress the kids out with school talk." Clark's mother interrupted the stiff conversation. "They've just finished with final exams, which is stressful enough."
"Ah, you're right Ana. Now have you two gotten any exploring done in London?" Jasper turned his steely gaze back on me.
"Yes, Clark showed me around the city. We actually went to the London Eye and Dungeons yesterday."
"Tourist traps? Of course Clark would show you to those.... cheap destinations. We actually have a large range of excellent museums, I'd recommend going to one of those."
"Yes, I wanted to go to one actually! But Clark isn't the museum type so I was actually planning on going before we leave. I really want to go to The London Museum and see the Rosetta Stone exhibition it s-"
"Someone wants to see the Rosetta Stone?" A new voice interrupted us, causing me to pause.
"Dean, don't interrupt. It's not becoming." Clark's father frowned at his youngest child.
"Yes, father." Dean rocks on his feet slightly. His face was, like his brother, straight showing little emotion.
It was getting easier to figure Dean out after seeing this small interaction. Being silenced by his parents, overlooked by his sister, and always compared to his older brother; he was quiet and introverted for a reason. But I didn't want him to be like that for me.
"Oh it's quite alright," I wave my hand before turning to Dean with a smile. "I wanted to see the Rosetta Stone exhibition at the museum, but Clark thinks it's boring and overcrowded. So I'm just going to go solo... Or would you like to come?"
"Yeah I can come," Dean nodded, surprising me.
"Are you sure, you don't have to."
"No, I want to go. I've heard the Egyptian exhibition is amazing. That they even have mummies."
"I can't believe my fourteen year old brother is stealing my girlfriend." Clark muttered under his breath.
"Calm down," I whispered to him. "I'll just be gone for the morning. Also, it'll be good for him to focus on something other than school." I elbowed the sulking boy.
"Blakely, why don't you and Clark stay here tonight then? I actually need to speak to Clark about something before brunch, so it would be perfect. That way, you and Dean can leave accordingly for the museum." Mr. Ellington crosses his arms, not waiting for an answer. "If you'll excuse me, I see a guest I haven't greeted yet."
And with that, there were four.
"I actually have to see if the pastry chefs have the dessert ready. I heard some chatter about the chocolate fountain not working, let me go see what's going on." Mrs. Ellington sighed leaving us three.
But before we could even dwell on losing two Ellingtons, Finley appeared with a familiar man trailing behind her.
"Hello siblings! Blake! So glad you could come!" Finley grinned excitedly. "You all know my date, Alistair?"
"Not formally, no." Clark shook his head. He quickly introduced himself, with me following suit.
"Hi, I'm Dean." Dean sarcastically introduced himself, the sarcasm being apparently overlooked by Alistair.
"We've already met, son."
Dean sighed deeply, shooting Clark and I a look. "Of course we have."
Finley was scanning the room, when suddenly a look of realization appeared on her features. "Hey Clark isn't tha-"
"Isn't that jacket Burberry? It's really nice, you should think about sending me the link to it." Dean quickly interrupted Finley.
Clark had glanced to where Finley had, and quickly caught on to whatever inside joke I was unaware of. "Yeah, most definitely. I'll text it to you. Um, Dean. I need to go talk to Mr. Livingston, I haven't introduced myself yet. Why don't you show Blake around? She can meet Kevin."
Before I could even say anything, Dean had pulled me away from the party down the darker halls. The dark green carpet muffled our steps, and I was too busy analyzing the ornate vases decorating the sides to even think about what was happening.
Who was Kevin? Dean was taking me towards a dark room, so maybe he is a hermit.
As we passed a large canvas painting, Dean stopped. "I just need to see which room he's in. He likes to explore. Kevin!"
Suddenly, the sound of bells jingling filled the silent hallway. "What was that?"
"Kevin." Dean simply shrugged. "Come on, you'll love him."
I gave him a look of confusion, before following the young boy. "Alright, whatever you say."
Dean swung the door to one of the many rooms open, before stepping in. "Come in, but quickly close the door."
I followed his instructions, trying to find the man that Dean and Clark had wanted me to meet.
But instead, I was met by a huffing pug.
"Blake, this is Kevin. Kevin, this is Blake." Dean bent down and pet the dog, who happily rubbed itself against Dean's palm.
"Oh my god! He's so cute!" I squealed in excitement, bending down to pet the slightly overweight dog. "I didn't know you guys had a dog! If I did, I would've come here way earlier!"
"Yeah, he's a cool guy. Doesn't really do much, but he's very calming. Although, we need to get him to lose some weight, the fatty."
"No, he's perfect!" I covered the dog's ears, before turning to Kevin. "You're a beautiful boy! You don't need to change," I cooed.
I spent some fifteen minutes just talking and playing with the dog, before Dean's phone pinged.
"Clark finally managed to end the conversation with Mr. Lipton. We can go back to the party now."
My first thought? No, I'd rather hang with Kevin than make idle small talk with a bunch of people. But my second thought? I thought he was talking to Mr. Livingston, not Lipton.
But, I let it slide. It could've been Dean who misread or forgot, or the fault of typo. Clark wouldn't lie. Would he?
He seldom lied, more often choosing to tell the truth and suffer the consequences.
Like the one time in the third grade when I got a new haircut, instead of staying silent or giving me a false compliment, he told me that it made me look like a boy. So by the end of the day he was nursing a bloody nose. But he was still happy that had at least gotten his truth out.
So, using the memories from third grade, I kept my head straight and bid Kevin a see you later, trailing after Dean back to the party. Dean stayed silent, but that wasn't new. He was impossibly quiet, and it was hard to make a lasting conversation with the boy.
Entering the loud room, I immediately spotted Clark in his maroon jacket, looking slightly tired. But once he spotted Dean and I, a small smile appeared. "Did you meet Kevin?"
"He is so lovely, god I love him! I think he may be your competition." I teased Clark, to which he frowned.
"If that's the matter, I should've just thrown the mutt in the dumpster when Finley first got him."
"Don't say that!" I reprimanded him, to which he chuckled.
"Don't worry, I'm joking."
"Good. Now, how was your chat?"
"Uh, good. Mr. Lipton just kept talking abo-"
"I thought it was Mr. Livingston?" I curiously asked.
Clark's eyes widened, "Shit right, I mean-"
"Give it up, you idiot. Tell the truth, you're a horrible liar."
"Wait no- I didn-" Clark cut himself off with a sigh. "Alright, so I wasn't actually talking to Livingston. Umm, I had to try and talk to-"
"And who might this be?" A new voice interrupted Clark's attempt to explain his situation.
The new voice belonged to a short blonde, one who was adorned in a classy white dress with pretty pearls strung on her neck and a black headband pushing her straight hair back.
With the girls tiny nose, thin lips, and smile, one would assume that she was innocent and kind. But the narrowing of her brown eyes and the slight sneer stretched on her lips said otherwise.
"Clark?" I turned to the boy, whose mouth was opening and closing looking for words to say. Idiot. My idiot, but still. Idiot.
"I'm Blake Graham, Clark's girlfriend." I politely smiled and stuck my hand out to shake hers. In return she placed her hand in mine and gave me a light shake and a forced smile.
"I'm Olivia Perrault, a... friend of the Ellington's. And Clark."
She was trying to insinuate something, but I was well versed in stand offs. I knew how to hold my ground, living in New York was the best way to learn.
I had some advantages. I was able to make easy conversation with almost everyone, I had my relationship with Clark whilst she didn't, and I also had a foot of height on her.
"Well, any friend of Clark's is a friend of mine? Right, darling?" I turned to Clark giving him a sugary sweet smile.
"Of course, love. Because you need even more friends than what you already have." He joked while wrapping his arm around my waist, his voice managing to have finally come back.
"The more the merrier." I grinned. "So, Olivia is it? How long have you known Clark for?"
"Maybe two or so years. We've got some... ah history." She pursed her lips, a small smirk appearing on her face.
I didn't let it bother me. I knew Clark, and I knew that he hadn't dated anyone before me. He trusted me with Parker, so I trust him with her.
Instead, I looked down at the short little gremlin. "Oh really? You must tell me! I just love history, it's my favorite subject! Right, Clark?"
"Y-Yes? Yes! She's really good, all A's. Super smart, one of the things I love about her." Clark stumbled on his words, a rare occasion for the boy.
The word love momentarily stunned the girl, the cogs in her brain probably processing that whatever she had with him once upon a time had nothing on us. Because she managed to let out an airy, "Oh, well... I think I should go and make my rounds. Most of my time since I've gotten here has been spent with Clark. It was nice meeting you Blake."
"Of course!" I replied in an overly sweet tone. "Maybe we can catch up on that history after? But for now, enjoy the party!" I waved at her goodbye, as her tiny, tiny figure disappeared into the crowd. "Bitch."
Clark broke out into laughter, eyes crinkling in mirth.
"What are you laughing about? You've got some explaining to do, Mister." I poked him in the chest.
"Oh, well I was going to explain it but the she devil interrupted me. She was kind of like my friend."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Friend?"
"So you believe me when I say that you're my first girlfriend, first girl I've said I love you to, right?"
I immediately softened at that. His words always had a way of melting me. "I believe you."
"So she wasn't my girlfriend or anything but she and I did kind of..."
"Sleep together?" I supplied, leaning into his shoulder so I could be closer and lower my volume.
"Yeah, sleep together."
"So was it one time or more?"
"Blake!" Clark whined.
"What? I'm curious. You asked all the stuff about Parker, it's only fair!"
"Fine," He sighed. "It was more than once. She was like a-"
"Fuck buddy?"
Clark sputtered at my words, eyes widening comically. "God! Why do you have to say that?"
"What?" I asked innocently. "Is it not true?"
"It is. But I swear I don't like her or anything, only you. One hundred percent."
I grinned at the boy who had my heart. "Don't worry, I'm not mad or anything. But you're gonna be stuck with me for a while if you keep saying stuff like that."
"Then mission accomplished." Clark grinned, kissing my cheek.
He really did have a way with words.
But within the hour, his way with words had disappeared.
"I mean what I'm saying is that if a fish can't breathe on land, then how can it be still alive after throwing it back in water?" The boy slurred, waving his hands around as he spoke enthusiastically.
Clark had managed to have two glasses of scotch and numerous glasses of champagne, which quickly caused him to become drunk.
His hair, which he spent such a long time on, was ruffled from his running his hands through his hair. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed, and posture relaxed. But his words, oh his words.
Clark was a social drunk. He enjoyed talking, but after his first proclamation, one involving the comparison of a guest to a well known pornstar, I had to get him away.
So with the help of Dean, who was trying to escape back to his studies, I dragged Clark to his room.
Currently, Clark was laying on the bed rambling while I attempted to get his shoes off.
Once managing to pull of the shiny Italian shoes and place them neatly in the corner, I was able to get a good look of the room.
It wasn't really personable. But that was also because Clark spent most of his life in Europe at Cambridge. His personal life was there.
"Hey, so you wanted to come in my room for any particular reason?" Clark slurred, attempting to sit up.
"Not tonight, Casanova. How about we get you to sleep?"
"Perhaps..." Clark trailed off. "But only if you sleep with me."
"Way to be eloquent," I sighed.
"I mean sleep next to me. With me. Not that kinda sleep. Like sleep sleep."
"Sleep sleep?" I raised my brows at him.
"Sleep and cuddle." He shrugged at me.
"You're such a dork." I rolled my eyes at him, "But fine. Come on." I made my way to the other side of the bed, getting under the fluffy black duvet.
"One second, I don't wanna wear this." He stumbled up, kicking off his pants and struggling out of his button up, leaving him in his boxers.
Before I could stare long enough, he had turned off the lights and he was under the covers with me, pulling me close to him.
"You know I love you, right? A lot." Clark murmured to me, his voice still slightly slurring.
"I love you too," I closed my eyes with a smile.
"Thank you. Goodnight Graham, sweet dreams."