Oh, oh I'm on Fire by lollipop-mania
"Are you sleeping together?"
In the moment, Jane is surprised. Shocked, even. Sex— she’s not that type of girl. Not that type!
She downs her drink. Boys like Sam are not for girls like her.
So when she does find herself looking at him and noticing how small his waist is and how long his fingers are, the wrinkles in his brow as he writes and the rhythm of the keys as he presses into them, she knows enough to shake herself out of it.
It’s a virtue of spending so much time together. Nothing more. A good researcher knows what her reporter wants. And Jane is a good researcher.
It’s not ignorance.
Jane is not ignorant.
Are you sleeping together?
Jane looks at Sam, the dark hair on his arm, the sleeves of his sweater rolled up to his elbows. She imagines a gold wedding ring on his finger.
“No,” she says, “of course not. We just work together.”
.
