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Chapter 10

John was sitting at the bar in the corner of the room, sipping his Scotch and looking over the crowd. Everyone seemed to be having a really good time talking to each other, dancing, eating food from the buffet that, to be honest, looked really good, and he was stuck there because Clara Oswald hadn't noticed him yet and right now John wasn't sure if he wanted to be noticed at all. She looked lovely tonight with her hair slightly wavy and wearing that red dress. Almost too lovely. If she saw him, she would think that he had come here because of her, which would be entirely the truth.

A week had passed since their disastrous date and John missed his Impossible Girl, but ever since he had learned who she really was, he felt conflicted. He liked the Impossible Girl, but he didn't like Clara. How could this possibly end well?

With a sigh John finished his drink. Didn't matter. He was hungry and the way to the buffet led past Clara Oswald, who was talking to the redhead he had bumped into the other day. So what if Clara looked gorgeous tonight, so what if he still sort of fancied her for being the Impossible Girl, it wasn't as if that was ever going to happen now. He shouldn't care what she thought of him.

"You!"

When John heard her voice, he immediately knew that he was the one she was talking to and he turned around and gave her the falsest smile he could muster.

"Yes," he said, "Me. Not my nicer doppelganger, me."

"Why are you here?" she asked him, putting her arms akimbo. That slightly angry frown looked adorable on her face.

"I thought since you kicked me out of your office I could come here and stalk you."

The frown on her face deepened and John couldn't hold back the laughter anymore.

"Relax, I was invited. I'm an author, remember? And there's free food, so-" He shrugged. "And the buffet is where I was headed, so if you'll excuse me. I'd like to take a break from my stalker duties and eat."

Clara made no further attempt to stop him, so John had no other choice but to leave, but the truth was: he had wanted her to stop him. Dammit! He still liked her.

"What was that?" Amy giggled once John had walked on to the buffet.

"That was the Doctor. John Smith," Clara growled as she watched him walk away. Why? Why did he have to be here tonight and why did he have to look so good in a suit? She had been so angry during their date that she had hardly paid any attention to it, but now that she knew who he was, she couldn't help but notice that he was quite good looking. He was an asshole, but a hot one. Not that she would ever admit that in front of him.

"So, you're gonna hook up with him?" her friend wanted to know.

Clara turned back around to face her and shot her a dark glance. "He's an arse!"

"Well, not in his e-mails," Amy argued and looked in his direction, "Also, judging by his books, he's probably the best shag in this entire room."

Oh God, he probably was. And he would never even think about touching her now that he knew who she was. Damn, why did it have to be him? And why did she still fancy him now?

"Not worth it," Clara determined, "I can find a nicer man. Like Adrian over there."

"Adrian is married."

Clara sighed. "Of course. Of course he is," she said and took a sip from her drink.

Events at the publishing company were usually a lot of fun and normally Clara enjoyed herself. She danced and talked to all sorts of interesting people, heard of all sorts of interesting new books, the food was great and the music wasn't too shabby. But tonight Clara just couldn't quite relax, not with John Smith lurking around. And the worst part of it was that whenever she glanced at him, he seemed to be able to feel it and looked back at her, at which Clara usually averted her gaze. It was maddening, so she found a table and sat with her back to the bar to avoid any further temptations.

"Would you like to dance?"

His voice made her shoot around and even though for a moment Clara had thought it was her mind playing a trick on her, John Smith was actually standing next to her table and he was talking to her.

"What? With you?" she asked back.

John shrugged. "I'm bored," he said simply, "So do you want to or not?"

Clara considered it for a moment. She could either rebuff him and continue their game of insulting each other, or appreciate that he had obviously just taken the first step.

"Are you only asking so you can step on my toes?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

John rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously because it's hard to step on them while your feet are under the table."

"Okay," Clara said after a moment and rose to her feet, "Let's get this over with, then."

Clara allowed him to lead the way to the dance floor where the DJ was playing a rather slow tune and John took her by the hand and laid the other one on her waist. His touch made her swallow hard. It was a lot gentler than she had anticipated and it tingled on her skin. She could feel herself blush.

"No need to feel ashamed," John told her in a low voice, "You're not as bad at dancing as you think."

"You think you're so hilarious, don't you?" Clara looked up at him, laughing, and John laughed back. God, why did that smile make her knees feel weak? She didn't like him. She fancied him, but she didn't like him.

"I am hilarious," he argued, a pretend frown on his face.

"We can have a debate about that later."

"So, uhm," he paused, his voice low and just a little husky. Clara could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Did you like the science fiction story?"

Clara cleared her throat, trying very hard not to show that the proximity of him was beginning to bother her. . . in a positive manner. "Haven't had a chance to read it yet," she lied, "I'll do it next week. Or the week after."

"And the short story?" John's hand was soft in guiding her, but Clara could still feel that he was attempting to pull her closer. And she let him. Until their bodies finally met and their hips were touching. Maybe someone had just turned the heating up, or maybe it was just his body heat and the smell of his aftershave that was starting to cloud her senses. She felt a little dizzy.

"You know," John bent down, almost whispering in her ear, "The bathtub one."

"Yes," she breathed, staring straight at him.

Suddenly John chuckled. "Well, did you like it?"

God, yes, she had loved it and right now she was ready to recreate that very scene with him. She wanted him, wanted to tear this suit off him, wanted to feel his skin on her own, his hands on every part of her body while that low voice whispered things into her ear and his lips nibbled at her throat. She wanted him to take her right on the spot and for a moment she had thought that that was all part of his silly game, to toy with her, to make her want him just so he could laugh about her later, but then she noticed his eyes and how dark they were with arousal. For a brief second they dropped to her chest where Clara knew John must have an unhindered view on her cleavage. It wasn't a game. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

"I'm sorry," Clara almost panted when she pushed herself away from him. It was too much. Five minutes ago she had hated him and now her only thought was how much she wanted him inside of her. It couldn't be. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

Clara grabbed her purse and coat from her chair as she made her way towards the exit and she didn't even bother to say goodbye to Amy as she left. She just needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.