The cicadas buzz in the distance, and I listen to their silence.
The night air was thick, and sweet, a musky sweetness, serving only to cloud the mind instead of clearing it. The cicadas were calling. They had been calling for some time now. Their rhythmic clicks rang loud and sharp in my ears. The calls had started late spring. It was mid-summer, and they hadn't stopped once. The noise they made would drive you mad if it weren't for sleep.
Sleep. Something that I just can't seem to do anymore. The heat nearly overwhelms me as I sit on my window ledge, and have the laces of my shirt open as far as they will go; they stop just above the swell of my breasts, and I am grateful for their small size. I have all of my windows wide open, the hope of tempting in a non-existent breeze to strong. I am restless. I cannot stay here. I close all my windows and leave the room, taking care to lock the door behind me. I head down to the practice courts and try to forget the pounding in my head as the smell of the night air collides with my nostrils.
I pad down the seemingly endless corridors and stairs before I reach the practice courts. I head indoors, in desperate need of a punching bag. I found a rather strong looking one, and began to hit at it. Softly at first, as though testing out an old bridge, not too much at once, slowly, easily, before I really start to attack. I bring my left leg round in a sweeping kick, connecting my right fist with the punching bag before it can swing back. Left, right, kick turn, thwack…on and on, tirelessly, until I hear a voice.
"Watch out Mindelan, girls shouldn't strain themselves now should they?"
I spin around and glare. It was him. How dare he. What right did he have to waltz in and out of my life as he pleased? He was arrogant, vicious, and merciless; he went against everything I believed in. He was also the most beautiful man I had ever seen. The flickering torchlight played against his face, casting shadows across the plane of his cheeks. His hair looked almost silvery, it was so fair. Those beautiful blue eyes, frozen, cold. But where I had once seen an almost feminine boy, a man had definitely taken his place. He was taller that I remembered, and even through his shirt I could make out the definite, hard lines of his physique.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice steady, my face blank, emotions safe behind my mask.
He sneered, it might have looked graceful had his face not been contorted with rage at the same time, he looked none to pretty now. "Honestly, you'd think you would have understood it by now. You can't possibly last the whole way. You may have fooled Wyldon, but you can't fool the Chamber. It will eat you alive Mindelan."
My mask slips. I am tired of it all: the barbs, the lies, all the pain, all the discrimination, and all the hypocrisy. I want it to end now. "Don't concern yourself with my well being, Stonemountain. You have no need to feel threatened; I am not here to steal the limelight. But I know I can hold my own in any fight, so bring it on. You don't scare me." I spit these words out, these words that I have buried deep inside of me. What I say wasn't half as rude as I wanted it to be. But I have certain standards to keep.
He takes a step towards me, then another, then another, 'till he is far too close for my liking. "So, you can show emotion, you can lash out when provoked; how very…feminine of you."
"Please, don't tell me you're so thick that it's taken you this long to realize that I am a girl." I shoot back, more than a little stung by his comment.
He takes a step closer "Oh, no…I have noticed."
Suddenly his arms are around me, and his lips are on mine. At first, I am too shocked to do anything, but the call of the cicadas wakes me from my reverie. I try to push him away; I open my mouth in the hopes of being able to yell, but only allows him to slip his tongue past my lips, pulling sensations from me that feel too good to be even remotely moral. I breathe in sharply through my nose, and respond. My tongue darts into his mouth, tasting quickly, before retreating, and leaving his own to give the chase. My hands stay locked tight around his neck, fingers buried in his hair, as he groans softly into my mouth, and pulls me closer, evidence of his desire pressed against me. His hands begin to explore the planes of my waist, across my belly, sliding teasingly up my ribcage until-
The cicadas give a particularly shrill yell, once again pulling me away from my dream. I push him away, and see that he looks just as flushed as I feel. His hair is tangled, his lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and shirt already half open. I spare a quick thought as to how it got like that before the sheer magnitude of what we had just done hit me.
I stare at him, and see that he didn't expect this either. So I do the only thing I can. Run. I run fast into the night, hair streaming behind me, up the stairs and down the endless lines of corridors, before I arrive at my room. I slam the door behind me, and memories hit me in full force. The kiss had…awoken something inside of me. A lust, a need, a yearning for… him.
I breathe in and tell myself, it will all be over. Conquer it. You are strong…and he means nothing to you, and is only worth your contempt. I say to myself. But the fire in my body burns ever brighter. I lie down on my bed and think. I lie there for a long time; listening to the buzz of the cicadas. I try to blame it on anything: the heat, my exhaustion, the thick, musky air…his lips, his touch.
An hour before dawn break, I finally feel the arms of sleep slip around me. Just before I fall into its embrace, I send a silent prayer to whatever god that may be listening, that my lust, love whatever it is I feel for him will be gone long before the cicadas stop calling. I pray harder still, that it will be gone, before he kisses me again…even though I don't want it to be.
The cicadas buzz in the distance, and I listen to their silence.
A/N Please Review