The solution to writer's block: Kile POV angst implied sexy times. Hahahahaha kidding I am absolutely still writer's blocked. But I did manage to produce 600 words that MAYBE aren't complete shit, and I am offering it as my Christmas present to what remains of the Selection fandom

I still have at least 3 open ideas for the one shot collection BUT I'm also in the process of outlining The Next Big Keadlyn Project. We'll see what comes first!

She's crazy, I think. One second she's insulting my fashion sense, and the next, she's tugging at my belt buckle. No one else can go from disdain to desire that quickly. She gives me whiplash.

"I thought you were mad at me," I say softly, careful not to sound like I'm complaining.

"I was. Now I want you. Keep up, Kile."

She's the most insufferable person in the world, but she's also grabbing fistfuls of my shirt, pulling me towards her mouth. Kissing Eadlyn burns; she drives me crazy in every possible way. I can't stay mad at her. Just when I think I've finally managed it, that I hate her the way I realistically probably should, she pulls me into another closet, reels me in with another spectacular kiss.

It's not my fault. She's the princess, and the princess always gets what she wants. Right now, what she wants is me, and I should be so flattered by that, because anyone who's spent any length of time with Eadlyn knows she's impossible to please, but I've reportedly done a pretty decent job of it.

She doesn't love me, though. That's never been on the table for either of us, although it's crossed my mind more than I can ever admit, especially to her. What if this meant something? What if I was more than just a distraction to you? What if I didn't have to sneak out of your room every night and hope I don't run into your dad in the halls?

It's nothing. It's less than nothing. It's a completely natural biological response to the most insufferable person in the world sucking on my lower lip, pulling me towards her bed, guiding my hands to the buttons on her dress. Who wouldn't want to feel like this forever?

I don't know her in any way that matters, but I'm intimately familiar with the scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin. I knew the look she gives me that means meet me upstairs, know her perfectly manicured nails digging into my back, know exactly what she likes.

I don't know her in any way that matters, but I'm the one she's kissing, sinking deeper into the mattress. That counts for something, doesn't it?

I don't know her in any way that matters, but I think I want to, and that scares the hell out of me.

She can tell I'm distracted. Eadlyn Schreave, both the problem and the solution, has this sixth sense for when any less than a hundred percent of the attention in the room is on her. She shifts her weight; I am pleasantly trapped beneath her. "Kile."

"Hmm?" I manage."

"Don't make this weird."

"Right, because why would it be weird?" I ask sarcastically. When we're berating each other, it's actually possible to forget she's straddling me, a few too many buttons undone to be decently covered, and just moments ago, I felt the need to understand the inner workings of her soul.

"Because you and I have a history! It's like-" She cuts off abruptly, huffing at me. "I didn't bring here to make me think. Come here."

She's kissing me again, rougher and more urgently than before. Our first kiss in the garden was so cautious and delicate, testing the waters; this is nothing like that. We've gone too far too many times to be hesitant with each other anymore. If she doesn't want to think, I'll make sure she doesn't. That's what I'm here for. That's my specialty, unbuttoning her dress and pressing a line of kisses just above her collarbone, hopefully enough to leave a mark. If my own ability to think is rendered useless, all the better, because the way my heart keeps skipping when the most insufferable person in the world says my name is a one-way ticket to heartbreak, and I don't want to consider what will happen when the princess inevitably grows tired of me.