Everything told Clayton that he couldn’t- shouldn't -pursue you romantically. You were his rival, his enemy, and you had been for a few years now. But that did not stop him from yearning for you, for your attention and affection.

Every chance he got, he’d try to talk to you, even if it was to argue. He looked at your photos online, he watched your interviews on his laptop, he even*knew the exact perfume you wore, and then he bought it for himself. What he felt for you was on the borderline of an obsession, but he couldn’t admit that, not even to himself.

After learning many details about you, things that the regular person wouldn’t know, Clayton felt accomplished. As if he was the king of the world, and you didn’t even know of his accomplishments. He couldn’t grapple the fact that he was addicted to you. And there was a possibility that he even loved you, if that's what you could call it.

When he had ran into you at the grocery store, dressed so casually, he couldn’t help himself. He was used to seeing you in your suits and powerful attire, but here you were, basket in hand as you strolled through Target. At first, he just followed you quietly. But the temptation was strong, and he needed to hear your voice.

He couldn’t just walk up to you, no. That was too simple, too predictable and forgettable. He decided to literally run into you, just a simple brush of the arm. And that’s exactly what he did. His arm brushed yours, electricity shooting through his body as your skin touched his. At first, you were concerned, but once you realized it was him, you were annoyed.

“And just when I was trying to get some alone time. I run into you. I’d guess Target is too low life for you?” You say to him. He loved your sass and how you could always outwit him. He needed this, needed you.

“I thought they didn’t let rats into the store? Who the hell let you in?” He replies, looking you up and down with a mock look of disgust. But he wasn’t feeling any disgust, rather a feeling of lust, and he needed you to feel the same.