Chapter 4
There were things I tried to ignore. Others that I swept under the rug.
We would never be fated to have a happy ending. Not like the one we both dreamed of. Reality was too unkind for that. I knew it the first night, and that truth never left me. I think, in some ways, Yang was sure of it too. Still, we tried to make it work. The aspects of our physical relationship blurred in the face of all that could go wrong. Emotionally, it was just too large a gamble. We made the conscious choice not to make ourselves public, and we held ourselves back more than we should have.
Yang likes to tease me for this, but I had a habit of embarrassing myself in front of her.
For example, once, on a cold night out, she tossed her coat over my shoulders. It was then that I told her she was like fire. It was a throw away comment. I'd made it sarcastically in passing. That was how we often exchanged words. Both of us offering absentminded observations, little more. The night air was so cold, but no matter what, she was always so warm.
She brushed me off. She told me that she never got cold. I was inclined to believe her. The subzero temperatures never seemed to bother her. Although I'd said it bitingly, I'd felt that way for a while.
She was like fire.
The fireplace sort, warm and cozy. A place of refuge against the otherwise insipid world around me. She had a glow about her, smile flickering a wide range of emotions all at the drop of a hat. From roughish seduction, filthy humor, even just simple glee. The blonde woman lived her life openly. A genuine honesty at the forefront of everything she did.
I envied her unabashed nature.
Among our many differences, she was from Vale. It showed in our features. Her skin had been kissed by the sun itself, and her blonde hair reminded me of a breezy summer day. I had no figure of which to speak of, and she stood at my side, a paragon of beauty I could never hope to achieve. She was effortlessly perfect in so many ways. Like a goddess out of a fantasy. She consumed me. My work suffering whenever my mind drifted to thoughts of her.
I'd concluded that I wouldn't be able to live without her in my life. She seemed to provide me with every ounce of joy she could afford to give. I wanted to offer something in return, but there was so little she actually wanted. There was even less she needed from me. In fact, she used to say that I wasn't spontaneous enough.
I decided I would be, for her sake.
The first night we made love was after one of our long walks. The parking lot that we frequented was covered in a layer of snow. It was the usual time to part ways, but when I unlocked my car, I made sure to open the rear door. Without thinking too deeply, I grabbed her by the scarf, and tugged. Pulling her down into a searing hot kiss before I slipped inside the luxurious back seat, flicking my finger, offering the most attractive come-hither gaze I could muster.
In truth, I probably looked ridiculous, but Yang just grinned and joined me.
She was much more confident than I was. As with anything, it started with a kiss that left me wondering where my sanity had gone. Inwardly I berated myself for my loss of good sense. Her hands were warm though, inviting me to hush the murmurs in the back of my mind. She wasted no time in tugging at my clothes, searching for the complicated buttons and zippers that kept my modesty locked away. The way she touched me set my skin alight, hot goosebumps making me shiver.
Her fingers gliding like fluid, almost like lava.
Her lips danced across my skin, down the nape of my neck. Her hands resting upon my bust. The modest swells were nothing compared to hers. My lithe figure was hardly the temptation I wanted it to be. I closed my eyes against the sensation as she peppered my neck in soft kisses. Her actions lacking the scrutiny I'd expected. Like all things about her, there was an intensity calling out to me.
Yang beseeching me to understand her siren's call.
I wanted to answer her, but, I admit, the thought frightened me all the same. The worst part was, Yang noticed.