A Subtle Wind of Change
She couldn’t tell if the bench was a good idea, or bad. Her decision might have been influenced by the difficulty she currently experienced trying to draw in anything but a shallow breath, but that might be attributed to the man sitting next to her, not the location. The sun had gone down a few hours ago leaving them mostly concealed by the darkness if not for the lamplight a house down.
His close proximity was nothing new, but something had changed. The very air between them seemed different, the particles tingled and buzzed with something new. In this almost darkness, anything was possible. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat, unaware of the same thought running through her head. After making a close escape from among people, the evening had taken a refreshing turn; his arm rested across her shoulders, hand coming up to occasionally stroke her hair before coming back down. He’d done it a million times before and every time the action had been followed by a quiet sigh and a closing of the eyes, less obvious in company.
The fear of getting too comfortable with him had never occurred to her until now. Was there anything better than her head resting comfortably on his shoulder, his fingers combing through the short length, lightly massaging the scalp, even if she had to remove it every now and then, in fear of being chastened by a nosy passerby? The question had only taken root, when a slowly blooming desire unfurled in her chest.
Through her lowered lashes, she peeked at his mouth. The lips appeared to be plump and softer than the most velveteen flower petals; nothing could’ve changed her mind. The longing increased a tenfold as the seconds tediously passed by. Was she willing to risk what they already had by asking for more? Pity, she had to keep denying herself something she’d wanted more than…anything, really. The yearning may not have been the same had she ever tasted another set of lips before, but she didn’t care. It was him she thirsted for and no one else would do.
It wasn’t hard for him to guess what she was thinking. He watched as she pursed her lips and slightly turned away, looking at the vines crawling over the lamp post. His imagination running wild, he was close to acting on those unrestrained thoughts; his fingers would grasp her chin and bring her face back towards him. The look in her eyes would say it all and he would wait for her to either pull away or stay captive within his hands. Taking a chance on the latter, he would lean in, slightly to the right and brush his lips across hers before pulling back to examine her reaction.
The two yearned for each other as the bench slightly creaked underneath them. Only time would permit them to act differently. Until then, the hidden exchange of glances, the quiet hints and a subdued touch would have to suffice.
