The Subtle Taste of Midnight

Apple

It all starts with a glance.

With a flash of glowing eyes hiding underneath a thick blanket of long, dark lashes. Hearts quicken. Sweat pools in places that it shouldn't. Something dangerous shoots through the body.

A thought. An idea that has no business being stuck inside my brain.

I am prey. I am helpless. I am hunted.

He sits before me, a colossal of a man. His long limbs fold neatly into the plush fabric of the armchair. He doesn't belong there, I keep thinking to myself. As out of place as the Crown Jewels at a bargain basement auction. And that's exactly what he is, in some strange way – a priceless, exotic gem. A sparkling sapphire with lips and hair and teeth and muscles. Broad, strong muscles. Hypnotic waves of blues, purples, and reds breathe beneath the soft silvery undertones of his skin. He's a supernova birthed by the stars, and yet, he sits here before me now on Earth as if God Himself came to walk among us misshapen mortals.

But God says nothing. He simply watches the dust motes floating on every breath we take. He watches me watching him.

"I am flattered, Xal, but I have to decline," the words don't want to come out of my throat. They hang between my vocal cords, twisting them up with the emotions that they give voice to.

Still, God doesn't say a word.

Time passes.

My fingers tremble, my heart thrumming beneath bone.

Silence settles between us like a snake coiling deep into itself. But the quiet has a heaviness to it. So full of soundless screams and thoughts that have no breath to push them through the air. It thickens into a slurry, into something solid that cracks like the nanofibers of his space suit when he breathes. I hear his muscles coiling and bunching beneath the fabric, struggling to keep all that power they have inside them under control. Because that is what an Akarsean is. Power. Energy. Zillions of atoms running headlong into each other until the impact of their collision creates this sapphire-hued god mushed up between the cushions of an over-sized armchair in a quaint, country chic living room.

"Is...is there anything else I...can do...for you?" I offer with a weak voice. The awkwardness is just too much for me to handle right now, never been one for the intricate twirls and graceful spins that come with navigating social interactions. Yet, here I am, with a being...no...a god from another planet, trying to master what I was never able to achieve with my fellow humans.

But Xal? Oh, he makes it look so effortless. So refined. There's no hiding the signs of nobility – and perhaps even divinity – in his alien bones, no matter how hard he seems to try.

"Apple," he says, his voice as rippling as the patterns of light in his translucent skin. Its effect on me is instant. My cheeks flush hot. That's what he calls me, you know. His Apple. His temptation. Ever since I told him the story of Genesis and the Garden of Eden.

"Don't make this harder than it already is," I mean to sound threatening and serious, but the feelings twisting inside betray me. Anger comes out as lust and longing breathed on a whimper.

The brilliant blue and pink lights in his eyes swirl in stark contrast to the dull, yellow glow from the room's lamps. "I apologize, nayahi."

Don't do that! Don't call me nayahi. That's even worse than calling me his Apple. Don't call me 'love'. A flash of anger rises inside me. How could he be so heartless? So careless with the memories of that night we had under the moonlight, under the tears, when he held me so close to his heart. When I felt his tears writhing beneath my skin? Does he enjoy torturing me with the memories of his lips?