A/N Inspired by the frequent trips I made to the convenience stores during my recent holiday (for supper), and by The Wicked Years, of course.
She was the most beautiful person he had ever met and most probably ever would.
Of course he did not think so when he first saw her. In fact, he would not have noticed her if his date for that night – some blonde with big boobs, long hair and even longer legs, accentuated by that micro mini dress with the plunging neckline that she had worn, decided to spice up his life by shoplifting.
She winked at him as he approached the counter with a six-pack of beer, and picked up a packet of condoms with her fingers, giving it a little shake before she dropped it inside her little hand bag. She licked on the ice cream seductively and gave him a smirk. Fiyero gave her a wide grin.
He placed the beer on the counter and fished out a twenty from his wallet, all the while ignoring the cashier behind the counter. The blonde wrapped her arms around his neck and he kissed her, tongue and all, while his hands roamed down her back and grabbed her ass.
The counter staff said something that he did not hear.
"Sir?"
"What?" he looked at the staff, covered from head and toe. Most probably it was an android underneath. Damn these 'service' staff for ruining the moment.
"Sir, that will be thirty-five."
"Thirty-five for an ice cream and beer?" he was shocked. Talk about inflation.
"And the condoms, sir," she gestured to the blonde's hand bag, her move too smooth to be that of a robot. "Ozman's Super-thin, strawberry flavour."
His date untangled herself from him and gave the counter staff a defiant look.
"Are you trying to insinuate that I steal your stuff? Who do you know he is? He is the Fiyero Tiggular, heir to Tiggular business empire. He can buy the whole condom company if he wants to."
Fiyero kept quiet. Yes, his father could afford to buy the whole condom company (as a matter of fact, one of his father's investment holdings was the majority shareholder of the condom's parent company) but that did not mean that he would.
"No one says the rich are above shoplifting," was the cashier's reply.
The blonde pressed on the bell on the counter repeatedly. "Where is your manager? I want to lodge a complaint."
The cashier was wearing a pair of over-sized sunglasses but Fiyero could almost see her rolling her eyes behind the shades.
"I won't do that if I were you. He's most probably dead drunk outside the alley," she advised. "The last time when a customer wanted to see him he came in and threw up on her branded bag."
The blonde looked at the cashier with a look of distaste.
"Oh great, just my luck to meet a cashier who thinks that she is soooo smart." She leaned forward. "If you are so smart why are you working in this lousy job and hiding your face behind the sunglasses? Are you disfigured or just plain ugly?" the blonde asked sarcastically as she drummed her fingers on the counter. The two did a mini face off of some sort, and Fiyero hoped all the while that no one would come in.
The cashier stood behind the counter, cool as a cucumber until his date suddenly struck. The former took a step back, but she was too late. The manicured fingers came into contact with her face and the sunglasses flew off and landed on the floor.
"You are a freak!" his date shouted with malicious delight. Fiyero turned his head to see what she meant, and it was only then that he saw the cashier's skin. It was the colour of emerald, marred by a scratch mark that bled slightly. The cashier's brown eyes widened in surprise, and she lifted a gloved hand to wipe off the blood.
The next thing he knew, his date was climbing onto the counter in a bid to get to the green girl.
"Don't!" he raised his voice as he grabbed her waist. His date struggled against his grasp as he pulled her down, and then broke off and slapped him across his face before she stomped off.
Fiyero froze for a while before he followed her, his hand rubbing the place where she had slapped him. At the door, he turned back and looked at the cashier. She had put on the large sunglasses, her face hidden once again.
He was half hoping that his date would be gone when he exited the convenience store, but there she was, in his convertible, the half-eaten ice cream on the floor next to the car. Her face was twisted, reflecting her fury. Fiyero sighed. He supposed he still had to send her home.
He went back the next night.
She was on duty again. Well, someone who looked like her anyway, with her hair tucked under the white cap, the surgical hair cap that was pulled down low. She wore a pair of sunglasses and a wide surgical mask covered the rest of her face. A dark colour scarf wrapped round her neck and tucked into her shirt. Her long sleeves and gloves covered her hands. There was not a single inch of green to be seen. She turned away the moment he entered the store.
He went up to the counter.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She busied herself by checking the stocks behind the counter and did not turn around. But somehow he knew that she was listening.
"For yesterday."
There was no response.
"My date was clearly rude, and I apologise on her behalf."
She continued to ignore him then moved to one of the aisles and arranged some of the stocks.
Fiyero pressed the bell on the cashier counter, trying to get her attention. She continued to ignore him.
Just then, a man twice his size came out from the room at the back of the store. He stepped past the girl kneeling on the floor, but the aisle was so narrow that he kicked her. He grumbled something about her blocking his way.
The man went to the counter.
"Are you getting something, sir?" he asked in a grumpy tone.
Fiyero looked nervously at the short display on the counter. He grabbed something from the shelf.
"Yes, I'm getting this."
The manager scanned his purchase and accepted his money before putting the item and the receipt into a small plastic bag. He then went back to his room, but not before pushing his staff on her shoulders, causing her to fell onto the floor.
"I didn't pay you to ignore the customers!" he roared.
Fiyero expected her to talk back to the manager, but she did not. She just kept quiet and continued to stack the items.
"Hey…." Fiyero tried to speak, but she continued to ignore him. He stood there for a while longer and then left the store.
She pretended to be engrossed in her job, and it was not until the chime notified her that the boy had exited that she stopped her pretence. It was only when she went back to the cashier counter that she realised that he had left his purchase behind. He had taken it out of the plastic bag and had written a note on the receipt in his scrawling handwriting.
For you.
It was a packet of plasters.
He went back every night after that.
She would always be there, behind the counter, or shelving the items. But she never spoke. He no longer pressed on the bell to get her attention. He knew that it would only draw that rude manager out of his office and he would take it out on the poor girl.
He had to admit that he was intrigued by her. She had spoken against the shoplifting, which showed that she was not a timid person. Yet she did not talk back when her manager was rude to her. Were they related? He doubted so. They looked so different. Maybe they were married? She looked too young (from that glimpse that he had caught when her sunglasses fell off) to be married, but some people do marry young. He hoped that she was not. Maybe she needed the job? But there were so many convenience stores around looking for staff to man the midnight shifts. And that skin colour. Under the store lights, she had seemed almost surreal, despite being cladded in her uniform and all covered up. He wondered if she was green everywhere. He blushed at that thought.
He found out that she did not work on Mondays, and she would ignore him if he stood at the counter without buying anything. He considered shoplifting to get her attention but was afraid that the big size manager would come out from his office and haul him to the police. So every night, he would buy something – a packet of sweets, a can of drink, an ice cream, anything. He would choose an item and then walked aimlessly within the store until she moved to the counter, and that was when he would make a short dash to the counter, a grin on his face as he placed it on the counter.
"Good evening," he would say in his most cheerful voice. But she always ignored him. He would have thought that she was mute if she had not spoken on the first day that he went into the store.
One night, he took two packets of cigarettes from the shelf and placed it on the counter.
She took a long time looking for the bar code and an equally long time to scan the two packets before putting them into a plastic bag.
He almost did not hear it, but she mumbled as she pushed the bag toward him. "Smoking is bad for your health."
Fiyero chuckled.
"So you are just like the rest of them."
She snapped her head up.
"Like who?" the surprise in her voice was obvious.
"Like the rest of the girls. You like bad boys."
"Fool," she muttered under her breath and turned away, ignoring him again. But Fiyero left the store happy. He knew that she would speak to him again.
The next day he put two tubs of ice cream on the counter.
"Don't give me that look," he warned her. "I know that eating too much ice cream is bad for my health, but they are having a promotion – two for the price of one."
He could almost see the smile that formed behind the mask.
"When do you knock off? I'll wait for you outside the door," he gestured to the main door," and you can have one."
She kept quiet as she handed him his plastic bag.
"See you later," Fiyero said as he hooked his fingers through the handles of the plastic bag.
He knew that she would not leave by the front door, not after he had mentioned that he would wait for her. He had noticed a back door when he walked along the aisles. He suspected that she would attempt to leave by the back door at the end of her shift.
He parked his car one street away and waited at the roadside behind a parked car, at the junction where the alley met the road.
Fifteen minutes after her shift, he heard a low groan as someone pressed on the metal bar and pushed the back door open. She emerged with a big tote bag on her shoulders.
As she walked towards him unknowingly, she took off her sunglasses and surgical mask and dumped them into the bag. Then, she undo the first few buttons of her uniform and pulled out the scarf that was wrapped around her neck and put it inside her bag too. That was followed by her gloves. As she stopped at the junction, she took off her cap and surgical cap with one swift move and let her hair cascaded down her shoulders and to her waist like a midnight waterfall. She ran her fingers through her hair and gave her scalp a quick massage. Her hair shone, even under the dim lights.
Fiyero stepped out from his hiding place.
"Hey," he said.
He saw the surprise in her eyes, the hesitation. And then she tightened her grip on the straps of her bag and walked down the street, ignoring him. Again.
He caught up with her.
"Hey, I told you that I will wait for you."
"By the front door," she said grudgingly.
Fiyero chuckled. "So you sneaked out by the back door when I am supposed to be at the front door? You break my heart," he placed his hand over his heart.
He stole a glance at her. Her lips were turned up at the corners.
"Come," he said as he took out a tub of ice cream from the plastic bag that he was holding and opened the cover. "For you. It's melting. It's too good an ice cream to go to waste."
She looked at his outstretched hand.
"Come on, I didn't put any poison in it. No date rape drug either." To prove that the ice cream was not tainted, he dipped the spoon into the tub and ate the first scoop. The ice cream left a milk moustache above his upper lip.
She looked at him warily as he took a second and third scoop.
"I should be dead by now if it has been poisoned," he told her.
She reached out and took the tub. Fiyero opened the second tub and the two of them walked side by side, eating their ice cream.
"So where do you live? It's late, let me send you home," he offered when he had finished his ice cream. The dessert had turned his mouth cold and mist came out as he spoke.
"Just an ice cream and you expect me to let you know where I live?" she laughed. "Have I been so ill-informed or are you so used to getting your way?"
Fiyero smiled sheepishly, a hand behind his neck. "Yeah, oh." He dug into his pockets and took out a small item.
He passed the small plastic card to her and cleared his throat.
"Hi, my name is Fiyero Tiggular. I am a final year student from Shiz University. I am friendly and playful. I like to party and make new friends." he stretched out his hand. "Nice to meet you."
She looked at the card, turning it front to back and front again, looking at the photo of the handsome boy on the card and the crest of the university. Shiz University, one of the most prestigious universities around – famous for producing both students with high calibre and (on the other end) students who were famous for their hard partying and dancing through life attitude.
She pressed his student card onto his palm as she shook his hand.
"Elphie, convenience store cashier," she introduced herself.
Fiyero grinned as he slipped his card back into his pocket.
"That's all? Not Elphie the dragonslayer? Elphie the ice queen? Elphie the Robin Hood? Elphie the sorceress? Elphie the lost heiress? Elphie the heart breaker?"
She shook her head. "Just a convenience store cashier."
"So can I send you home now?" he asked.
Elphie looked up and down the street with deliberate slowness.
"Where is your car," she asked teasingly, a smile on her lips.
Fiyero looked, and it was only then that he realised that they had reached a part of town that he did not recognised. He had been so engrossed in her that he had not noticed where they were going.
Elphie laughed, a soft laughter that did not travel far even in the silence of the night.
"I will walk you to your car. A pretty boy like you should not be left unprotected in a street like this."
She only accepted a ride from him two weeks later.
She had a terrible day. Some drunk kids had come in earlier and smashed several glass bottles. And then one of them threw up on the floor. Guess who had to clean up the mess? And a friend of her manager dropped by for a visit and made a pass at her. The bastard manager only laughed. And when her shift finally ended, she went to the back door only to find that it was raining heavily. Elphie tried to open her umbrella but the wind was too strong, and she could feel her pants getting wet even before she stepped out of the building. As she struggled to open the umbrella against the wind, a shadow casted over her and she looked up with see Fiyero with the biggest umbrella that she had ever seen in her whole life.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her off the kerb and to him.
"Come, I'll send you home," he told her.
"I'll walk," she told him.
"In this weather? You will be blown away like a twig," he argued.
"I'll take a bus."
"The last bus just left."
She sighed. She could smell his cologne, the fragrance of his shampoo. Her hand snaked around his waist as he pulled her even closer, pressing her against his body. His fingers rested on her waist, a reassuring touch that she had not felt for a long time.
"Bad day at work?" he asked, sounding very gentle against the strong harsh wind that was blowing at them. His breath was warm against her cheek, causing a warm sensation that slowly spread to the rest of her body.
She did not say anything. They reached the car, and Fiyero pressed a button on his remote to open the passenger door, making sure that she was seated before he closed the door and entered by the other door.
He turned on the engine. A soft melodic music filled the air and Elphie could feel the heat coming out from the air vent. She raised her hand in front of the vent and gave an appreciative sigh. Fiyero turned and reached behind him. Elphie's eyes followed, and she saw, at the back of the car, a small pile of items. Milk, sweets, chocolates, plasters, towels. All the things that he had bought from the store for the past few weeks. He looked at her sheepishly, and took one of the small microfiber towels that he had bought a few days ago and passed it to her.
He looked at her as she took off her masquerade (that was what he called it secretly) before she wiped herself with the towel.
"So where do you live?" he asked when she was done.
"Just drive straight," was her answer.
Her haphazard directions ended them in a poorer part of the town, in front of a long flight of stairs that curved up and down like a rollercoaster and looked as if it would end up in the heavens. The rain had stopped. Without saying anything, she opened the car door and hopped out. Fiyero thought that she would turn around and said goodbye or something, but the next thing he knew, she was already several steps up the stairs.
"Hey," he shouted as he got out of his car.
She stopped and turned back, and he took the opportunity to catch up with her (he seemed to be doing quite a lot of that lately).
"Is that it?" he asked when he was within earshot.
"Is that what?"
"Do you live in this stairway or are we going someplace a bit more homely?" he waved at the space around them.
"Somewhere inside. There is no road for your flashy car."
"I will walk you home then."
"Look behind you, rich kid," she said.
He turned, and saw a few men surrounding his car, their hands caressing its metal body.
"Your car will be gone if you walk me home."
She placed a hand on his arm, pulling him down the steps. The men saw her approaching and they slid into the shadows. Fiyero wondered if they were afraid of him or her. He had a feeling that he was not the threat.
She walked him back to his car and watched him as he got in.
"Wind up the windows and go, rich kid. This neighbourhood is not for you," she told him as he started the engine.
He looked at her in his rear view mirror as he drove away. She just stood there, without an expression on her face, until he turned a corner and she disappeared from his sight.
He started sending her home every night.
She hardly spoke, and he would gauge her mood for the day by the scowl that she would flash him when she appeared or the music station that she chose that night (and the furious way she jabbed the buttons). Sometimes she would flick off the radio, and sighed pensively. He tried to fill up the emptiness between them sometimes by talking about what happened in school, about his friends. She would give her comment with a single word, with a growl or scoff. He thought that she had no problem expressing her opinions even if she did not talk much. He still partied with his friends, but he would stop at one drink and left in time so that he would be waiting for her when she knocked off from work. He learned his lessons after he turned up once smelling of alcohol. She refused to get into the car and refused to let him drive. She confiscated his car remote and hailed a cab for him, shoving him inside with a strength that he did not know she had.
He still visited the convenience store occasionally and buying things that both of them knew he did not need. One day, while he was trying to decide between chocolate or vanilla cookies, he noticed, from the security convex mirror at the ceiling, a man in a hooded shirt coming in. He threw a packet of sweets on the counter and slid the money across the counter with his palm down. And Fiyero saw that when Elphie collected the money, she slid the money with her palm to the edge of the counter and let a small packet dropped into her other hand and into her pocket. Her other hand pinched the money and dropped it into the cash register as if nothing happened. There was not a word exchanged between the two throughout the whole transaction.
Less than one hour later, a man carrying an infant came in to buy a bottle of chilled milk and she seamlessly dropped the packet into the plastic bag as she packed the milk. Again, there was not an exchange of word.
He continued to observe this over the next few days and then he could not contain himself any more.
"Are you dealing with drugs?" he asked her he stopped at a junction. They were in his car, and she had tuned in to a radio station playing oldies.
"What?"
"I saw the grandma today passing you that little packet which was picked up by the man with the child. Today is the third day that I saw him picked up something from you. Is that drugs?"
There was a silence. "It's none of your business," her voice was low.
Something in that voice triggered him. He turned off the radio.
"Is it none of my business? Elphie… if Elphie is your real name. You know something? I have been seeing you for months. I chose my new term's modules only if they did not have morning class so that I can sleep in after sending you home. I told you everything about myself, my family, my friends, my life. But I know nothing about you, except that your name is Elphie and you work in a convenience store. You spoke against shoplifting. I thought you have a high integrity, and now I have to find out that you are selling drugs? And to a man with a child?" He stepped on accelerator and sped through a red light.
There was silence in the car as he sped through a few junctions. She sat next to him, breathing heavily, and then she whispered.
"So you are a high class bastard who only hang around people with integrity? Like those girls who will crawl into the backseat of your car with you just because you bought them a nice piece of jewellery? Or your buddies," she said the word with sarcasm, "who will does not think twice of doping drinks or getting a girl drunk just to get what they want? Or to donate heaps of money to get a passing grade?"
He stopped at a red light then. He had to, because the car in front of him stopped. And the next thing he knew, she yanked the door open and got out of the car.
"Asshole," she said as she slammed the door. He stared at her, or rather, at her retreating back. And then the cars at the back horned at him and he had to move. He U-turned at the next junction and tried to look for her but she had disappeared into the thin air.
He could not sleep that night. He tossed and turned in his bed, looking at the ceiling, counting sheeps using his ten fingers and then he repeated the process again, but still sleep eluded him. He played her words over and over again in his mind. The anger on her face. The way he felt when she walked away.
Maybe it was not drugs. Maybe it was food vouchers or something. Maybe it was a life-saving medication that was bought off the black market because the man did not have adequate insurance. Or maybe it was a game – a small folded piece of love letter that was pass from one person to another, sending love to whoever who read it.
And then he thought again. Maybe it was drugs. She did not look like an addict, though he had never inspected her arms for tell-tale signs of drug abuse (though he had to admit that there were different ways of consuming drugs. He had, after all, experimented with them when he was younger). Maybe she needed the money. Maybe she had a father who owed a sky-high gambling debt and she had to sell drugs to pay off the loan. Maybe some drug peddler had held her little sister (if she had one) hostage and she was forced to do this. He would talk to her. He would pay off whatever debt she owned. He would use his family name to pull some strings if there was a need for a daring rescue operation into the heart of a drug den.
The next night, he bought a bouquet of poppies with him. He heard the familiar chime as he entered the store. She was behind the counter, a hand raised as the other hand scooped the money from the tray in the cash register into a bag opened on the counter. There was a man in front of her, a gun pointing at her. Fiyero dropped the flowers in shock. The man turned and looked at him.
Before either men could react, Elphie grabbed something from below the counter and sprayed at the robber. The man yelled as he tried to protect his face, but it was too late, and it did not help that Elphie got out of the counter and continue to spray at him as she chased after him. The robber pushed past Fiyero and out of the store and Elphie gave chase, only to give up when the contents in aerosol can ran out. She threw the canister after the fleeing man.
She went back to the store to find Fiyero crouching on the floor, his hands on his eyes.
"He's gone. You can get up now," she swiped playfully at him when he did not register her entrance. He looked up, and she swore when she saw that his eyes were red and tearing.
"Can you aim properly next time?" he suggested when she pulled him up.
She brought him behind the counter, and came back with a wet towel.
"This will teach you a lesson; never stand in the way of a robbery," she admonished him as she wiped his eyes with the towel.
"He didn't leave a message at the door," he joked. "Well, I suppose I did save you. You will never have the chance with that pepper spray if I have not distracted him."
"All he wants is the money."
He took the towel from her hand, finally able to see clearly again. "He has a gun and he is not masked. He can shoot you after the robbery to prevent you from picking him from a line up." He was serious.
She matched his expression. "My hero," she said, and then laughed it off as she stood away.
He waited in his car and rested his eyes while she completed her shift. She knocked on the window when her shift ended, and he unlocked the door. She looked at the bouquet of poppies tied with a black silk scarf with red roses that he had put on her seat. He had forgotten to give it to her earlier.
"They're beautiful," she simply said.
He drove in silence, watching her occasionally from the corner of his eyes. Her hair fell down, covering her face such that he could not see her expression. The flowers were in her arms, slightly bruised from the fall when he had dropped them. She touched the petals gently with her long fingers, their colour almost the same as the petals in the semi darkness of the car.
"Quit the job," he spoke.
"You don't own me," was her reply.
"You need to quit because it is not safe for you."
"Come on, you can get robbed even in your own house, rich boy. Besides, I need that job."
"I can…" he could not say it out. Somehow, he knew that she was not the kind of girl who would take money from another person.
"No," she replied calmly, as if she knew what he was trying to say.
"Then find another job," he spoke after a while.
"Only that job, that convenience store."
"Why?" Fiyero asked.
"He's the only store manager who does not care what is going on. For my drug dealings," she answered lightly.
He called her bluff. "You're lying."
"Ask me no question and I will tell you no lies, pretty boy," she replied.
She hopped out of the car when he stopped in front of the long winding staircase, and then turned back.
"Leave your car at home tomorrow," she said.
He looked at her, surprised. Was she trying to tell him that she did not want to see him anymore?
"You want to see where I live, don't you?"
He waited outside the back door at the appointed time the next night. He walked beside her as she removed her masquerade. She pulled the scarf out of her shirt, and folded it lengthwise until it was the width of her palm.
"Pretty boy," she beckoned and he stepped close to her. He recognised it then. It was the silk scarf that was used to tie the poppies the day before. She smiled at him and pressed the fabric against his eyes before she pulled it towards the back of his head, securing it with a double knot. The scarf was still warm from the heat of her body, and he could smell something that was a combination of soap and air conditioning and sweat – her scent after a long day at work. And he felt like pulling her close to him and burying his face at the crook of her neck.
She held his hand as they walked, telling him to be careful when there was a kerb or a pothole in front of him. They walked through alleys and traffic junctions, and there was at least once when they cut through a household or an enclosed area, the metallic sound of a pair of rusty hinges loud in the middle of the night.
"Where are we?" he asked as they cut through a patch of grass.
"A cemetery." She laughed. He had no idea if she was lying.
The last part of the journey required him to climb a metal ladder that she pulled down. And then he went through a small hole and landed his feet on hollow wooden floor and he knew that he was in a room.
He heard the click of a switch, and the sound of a generator as it whirled to life. The vision beyond the black scarf brightened.
"Here we are," she said as she removed the scarf.
He looked around. It was a small room. It was empty, except for a couch, a badly scratched coffee table and a wardrobe without doors. Bottles of mineral water were stacked up in one corner, next to a small room that he assumed to be the toilet. Taped against a wall were the poppies that he had given her. He turned around and saw a small window.
"Did we just come in through that window?" he gestured at the window.
"The door cannot be opened from outside. It lowers the rental," she explained.
There were many pieces of paper on the coffee table. Curiosity got better of him and he picked up a piece of paper.
"Can you read them?" Elphie asked. Her tone was light, but she stood tense.
He shook his head. "Looks gibberish to me." She relaxed.
She took out a six pack of beer from her tote bag.
"Help yourself. They're paid for," she said as she placed it on the table. He opened one.
She walked to the wardrobe and curled her hands at the hem of her shirt before she looked at him. He blushed and looked at the floor, the can in his hand, a dash of green at the corner of his eyes.
She changed into a shirt and shorts and joined him.
"Like this?" she gestured around as she opened another can of beer and took a swig. He laughed, "Impressive."
"The other side of the spectrum, rich kid."
"I think you can afford a better place than this," he guessed.
She shrugged. "I like it here. There's privacy. Everyone keeps to themselves and it's near to where I worked."
He looked at his watch. Their journey had taken more than an hour.
"I said I will show you where I live. I didn't say that I will let you know where I live," she smiled at his confusion. So she had led him to a detour.
He took out his handphone. No signal. There was no way for him to lock into his location. He sighed.
She worked on the papers as he drank his beer. He watched her as he played some game on his phone – she would dig through her pile of paper for a piece of information and then sometimes scribbled something on a smaller piece of paper. Sometimes she would think for a long time before mumbling something to herself. He sat there and watched her until she realised that he was looking at her.
"You're bored," she commented as she tried to stack the papers together. She then picked up one piece and folded it into the smallest size possible and put it into the pocket of her uniform.
"Secret mission?"
"Drug locations," she deadpanned. "Ready to go?" she asked as she stood up.
He followed suit and she took the scarf in her hands and reached behind him again, tying the knot behind him. It could be due to the beer, or the smallness of the room, but he could feel her so close to him, her thighs pressing against his, her fingers brushing against his hair, her breath on his cheek. And the next thing he knew, his hands skirted around her waist, lingering for a moment before they went under her shirt and he tilted his head, seeking her lips.
She responded immediately, her hand at the back of his head as she pressed her lips full against his. She muttered something that he could not hear and then kissed him again. Her kisses were slow, deliberate, but felt purposeful, as if she, too, had waited for this for a long time, had wanted this for a long time. One of her hands buried itself into his hair while other slipped down to his chest, clutching his shirt – Oz, he wanted so much to have her hand on his bare chest instead. It was as if she could hear his thoughts and she undid the buttons of his shirt before she slipped her hand inside, resting her fingers on the column of blue diamonds that was tattooed over his heart.
He could not see with the blindfold but he kissed his way down. He kissed her jaw, and then her neck, feeling her pulse as it throbbed against his lips. His hands clumsily pulled her shirt up and over her head. He touched her, feeling the gentle curves of her body, her small waist, the way he could feel her ribcage against her skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, moulding her body against his until he could feel every single inch of her body. He slid his hands to her back and unhooked her bra before he closed his fingers over her small breasts, teasing her lightly with his thumbs before his mouth took over. He pulled her closer to him and they both fell onto the couch and he pulled down the blindfold.
She was on top, and the light from the generator casted shadows all over the place. Her hair fell across her shoulders and caressed his skin. Her skin was flushed, especially at the places where he had touched her, where he had kissed her, and he was glad to notice that he was not the only one who was breathing heavily. Her eyes were bright and he thought that she was so beautiful.
He tried to flip her over, but the couch was too small and he fell onto the floor instead.
She chuckled from her position from the couch as he lay gasping on the floor.
"Where's the bedroom?" he asked as he propped himself up on his elbows, embarrassed by his clumsiness.
Elphie tucked her hair behind her ear as she smiled slightly.
"This is the bedroom," she told him before she lowered her head and kissed him gently on his lips. The kiss was chaste, a great contrast to the earlier passion that she had displayed, and it left him dizzy and lightheaded.
He wanted more.
Fiyero sat up and she placed a hand behind his neck as she kissed him again, deeply this time. An image came to him - he was a merman, out of the waters for the first time and being kissed by a mortal green girl.
They stayed in the room for a long time.
It was a most uncomfortable night.
It was the most memorable night of his life.