Rock Bottom
Eleanor contemplates her relationship (if one could call it that) with Jasper. T for mild themes
Because The Royals is my new favorite trashy TV show and nobody else has written about it yet. I might be convinced to write more.
She knew what kind of man a boy like him would grow up to be. She knew that he knew she didn't care if he released that video. There were far worse things she had done, far worse moments captured and released on the internet. She would weather the media storm and the Queen's lectures as she always did, with cocaine and champagne.
Still, she knew she was playing with fire every time she indulged him. She felt his gaze singe her body every time she draped herself over some well-dressed polo player at her mother's garden parties. He had to know that she did it solely to set his teeth on edge, but perhaps she gave him too much credit. He was just a boy, after all.
Eleanor lit her cigarette, and smirked down at the still sleeping body beside her in the bed. The fiery sun rose through the window and she leaned back, blowing the smoke to the ceiling.
