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1. There is a rose garden I often visit to catch a glimpse of him. He likes to sit under an ancient peach tree and almost always brings a companion with him-- nameless girls with pretty eyes and pretty lips. I've seen him murmur candy-coated lies into their ears, seen him slide his hands under their skirts and press kisses to their hips.
2. Today, however, I find him sitting alone, licking peach sap off his fingertips. He looks heavenly under the radiant sun and something inside me tells me to get closer,
closer,
closer--
--CRACK! The branch under my feet snaps into two. He turns his head in my direction and squints at me.
3. What are you doing here? He asks, his voice is honeyed and soft. I don't respond, my tongue is numb inside my mouth. Come, he beckons with lazy interest andmy heart falters in my chest.
4. My feet carry me to where he's sat. He pats down on the sun-dappled patch of grass beside him. Sit, he commands. And I do. He offers me his half-eaten peach; eat. And I do.
5. His gaze is slightly dazed as he watches me press my lips to the raw pink flesh of the peach. Juice begins to trickle down my chin, and I reach up to wipe it away with my sleeve. He stops me; wait.
5. Grabbing my chin, he leans forward. His breath smells of mint leaves and peaches. I've noticed the way you look at me, he murmurs as his tongue swipes out to lick away the juice that's dripping from my lips as though it is ichor and I am something holy, something divine. Isn't this what you want? He doesn't voice this question out loud but it echoes in the intensity of his gaze, in the hesitant way he's holding my chin.
6. And then I rip away from him, eyes stinging and cheeks burning, yes yes yes, I scream, only it comes out as: sorry, I've gotta go.
7. I run, peach in my hand and pounding heart inside my chest. I hadn't thought his lips would be as soft as I'd imagined.
