Challenge The Proud

Coffee and Sugar

"Do you like it? I made it myself." - Challenge No.18

"DO YOU LIKE IT? I made it myself," he said and I bit my tongue smiling at him. I was sure that the food he provided would have looked and tasted delicious to any human. Too bad that his delicate pale wrist caught my eye as he gestured toward the dish. For me, he was the most appetizing thing in sight.

* * *

The first time I saw him my heart stopped, only for a bit, and an entire lifetime had passed in that brief moment. He strode in a hurry parting a crowd of students, his long blond hair dancing to the cold breeze of that winter afternoon. His eyes were an odd color, an unexpected warm and sweet golden brown. He was heading my way and when he passed me I couldn't help but turn around to watch him walk away. Where was he going? Why did I even care so much about a human like that?

Time flew by fast as my imagination engaged in guess work. What would his flesh taste like?

"Hey, Mike! Didn't think you're taking this class." One of the guys in my dorm recognized me as I entered the classroom.

"You kidding? Psychology 101. Who'd want to miss that?" I answered with mock enthusiasm, displaying a playful smirk.

Despite my real and practical interest in human psychology, I feigned indifference to fit in. For some reason, humans in school expected their peers to not give a damn about anything.

I took a seat near the guy and leaned back with the air of indifference humans understand best. A couple of girls looked back at me and then giggled whispering. One of them blushed. I enjoyed that. So when she glanced at me again, I winked. Her cheeks flared up even more with that charming color of red.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" a clear voice asked around, pointing at the unoccupied seat just a few feet away from me.

That was the second time that I saw him. The blond guy with the sweet gaze took the seat and undid his coat, fidgeting with his bag. He started to take out his stuff, apparently not finding the Psychology text book, dropping pens and making an absolute mess. He unwillingly disturbed those sitting near him, and caused the worst kind of whispers and giggles.

"Loser," the guy from my dorm concluded and laughed with a snort.

I chuckled. The blond was an absolute loser and I couldn't take my eyes off him.

Maybe I should spare him from his miserable existence. What would his flesh taste like?

A few days later I approached him, retrieving a glove that he had misplaced in one of the other classes we seemed to be sharing. It was the perfect excuse I figured.

"Thanks! This would have been my third pair this winter," he disclosed with an embarrassed smile as he took the glove.

"You're a bit of an airhead then," I couldn't help noticing, then quickly regretted being so blunt. The last thing I wanted was to scare him away.

But he laughed and shrugged, seeming a bit shy. He was blushing. What eighteen year old guy blushes?

"I'm Mike," I said extending a hand and trying to put him at ease.

"Oh, I'm John, but you can call me Johnny or J. Or not..."

His hand was warm and just like his kind face, inviting to the point of seducing me. I shook his hand, maybe a bit too long, maybe a bit too tightly.

"I, erm, have to go. Thanks for the glove again. See ya!" John scurried away and all I could do was watch him go.

His subtle scent of coffee and sugar stayed with me. Even throughout the next two days I found myself feeling that scent.