A/N – I hope that you're all well. I'll share a quick experience with you that I had. I was in the company of an old man the other day, whilst buying food. The man turned to me, smiled and said, 'pretty young one, live every day with a smile on your face, because tomorrow, that pretty face will be gone.' I was like, what the fuck? Is he telling me that I'm going to die or something? There was me being all paranoid. It kept bothering me as I sat there and he got up, took up his cane and said, tipping his hat, "every day changes us. We don't wear the same face every day. Good evening." And he left. Well obviously I knew what he meant then, that we change every day. Take it how you want. Happy reading!
Excerpt:
I planted myself right where the situation made me feel so dominant and when she lowered herself onto the red carpet, the distance was closed even further.
"Emma." Eyelashes fluttered when she gazed up at me, dark hair fanning out.
"Can I kiss you?" Our lips were half an inch apart and parted, warm breath kissing my face.
Her chest heaved uncontrollably and we fitted so perfectly together, legs entwined already. "Yes."
Moving in, I captured her mouth and tasted the sweetness of Bourbon.
X
X
For fifteen minutes, we moved through traffic as the A.C cooled me down. Playing the boss of me, huh? Well I'd show her. Having me abducted? I had rights and we weren't talking to each other. So why was I obligated to meet her anywhere?
The Grand Piano
Seriously, that was the name of the place. In gold letters plastered across a red sign on the fifth floor, the restaurant was really grand. I counted more than fifty floors before my eyes began to turn and then Mario patted me on my arm. I was shown the interior, lighted with gold and containing red cushioned chairs, food being served by waiters dressed in black.
I remembered that much about the place and the fact that it was really cozy looking from the outside, very cozy looking. But from the time Killian's face beamed at me from the inside, something changed inside. It was like wave swallowed me up when I caught him sitting there, dressed in a simple red and black plaid shirt and black jeans. The presence of a friend can work wonders for certain situations, can't it? But the fear of not knowing where she was or what happened to her, it kind of made me jumpy.
When he came out to greet me, I was washed over with worry and couldn't stop.
We embraced and I inhaled his Old Spice aftershave.
"Mate, what took you so long?" my face was studied as I was held back within his arms.
"I kind of took my precious time coming."
"Emma," he carefully brushed my hair behind both ears and sighed. "Why all the unnecessary strain and bouts of silence?"
"I guess she didn't fill you in then?" I still checked for any sight of her behind him.
"No, she didn't. I was invited here only without elaboration."
It wasn't a problem to me, in fact, it was totally okay because whenever the two of us were together as of recent, the conversation ended up somewhere hurtful. And to have someone else there for a change, I could feel myself becoming relaxed already.
"And as it seems, you two still have trouble in paradise."
"Yeah, yeah," I shrugged. "You don't know the half of it."
"I'll tell you this before we venture inside," he leaned in, the wind swirling around us was cool, "she means well. All of us are flawed. In her situation, the past has altered a beautiful angel. Now quite broken, she still puts her heart back together to love you, most entirely."
I stared up at his face and said nothing.
"I don't know what happened but believe me, everything will unfold nicely."
Hoping so, our footsteps led indoors. Just when it was confirmed by me that a table would be taken downstairs, this old guy dressed in red gestured for us to enter an elevator. Up, up we went, approximately fifteen floors above, and when the doors rolled open, my eyes had to be given time to welcome in the change of setting.
This new floor was dimly lit and colored in darker tones of red and black and the darkest of gold that appeared brown. Leather covered most of the seats and tables and the atmosphere was tranquil, the glass walls displaying a skyline that was sprinkled with lights from other buildings. Every now and then, I could hear the melodious tunes originating from a grand piano and craned my neck to detect a young man seated gracefully at a pianoforte. Just by the eastern side, dressed in black.
The high back wooden chairs gave the place a sense of having important people welcomed in there.
It made me think of a scene from one of Jane Austen's books, especially the oil paintings on the walls just by the bar. There was this particular one of a swan that captured my attention and held it. A swan in a pond, all by itself, chest puffed out and appearing very proud. Killian had a hand rested on my back and even though I felt under-dressed, he was as well. We both were still drinking in the scene when she came into view.
"Fashionably late," I was offered a smirk and realized that she had slipped off her tailored black jacket. That was enough to make me stare. What remained was a tailored red dress that hugged her hips and those black high heeled shoes matched impressively.
"This place is quite beautiful," Killian remarked, "do you come here often?"
"The last time I frequented this establishment was close to two years ago. We rented the entire floor just for a board meeting. And might I say that it has always left a lasting impression on me?"
I wasn't supposed to dwell on the argument we had that afternoon, was I? When she asked me if I wanted us to be glued together. Why the hell was I bothering about this so much? I needed to get high and blank out this anxiety and heaviness around my heart.
"I'm glad you came," she nudged our shoulders together and whispered. I smelled the wonderful scent of her White Diamond perfume and my mind moaned.
My lips were licked and I inhaled deeply.
The table selected was one to the furthest corner, just where the pianoforte was set up. I chose the chair that gave me a view of the skyline whilst she moved to sit in one that blocked that view. Intentionally. So much for an easy distraction. Noting the flicker of passion in her gaze, my body burnt up whilst Killian took his seat to the right of me and the left of her.
By the time we had ordered, and I had no idea how to pronounce the Italian meals on the menu, the two of them struck up a conversation. It was pleasing for me to observe her fascination in poetry. They spoke of Edgar Allan Poe and his poem about The Raven and I listened the intellectual discussion on a piece that caressed deep minds. The way she thought about the poem was enough to signal to me what depth her mind had reached. Carefully pulling apart each line that was memorized and attaching meaning to those words that piqued Killian's interest.
"I should have recorded your speech," he sipped on rum and smiled. "Quite an intimacy you have with the written word."
"Each line, written by a person, is done so with intent. We engage our brains, our hands and fingers whilst merely putting words onto paper and the entirety of the process is a fundamental one."
"Which is why my approach to studying is to highlight the important parts and to rewrite them." Killian lightly tapped my right shoulder and offered me a smile. "They claim that it's time consuming but I find it highly effective."
"Nothing should be time consuming if it is done with purpose."
I watched her lift the glass of red wine to red painted lips and she sipped, eyes on me. My plate of which I would describe simply as rice, cuts of steamed vegetables and beef, sprinkled with cheese was delicious. I had a side order of potato salad that melted in my mouth. As my fork poked the food around, her scrutiny on me lifted my attention. Staring across the table, I inhaled deeply and held the gaze.
Regina's eyelashes fluttered slowly. "Love is such a beautiful thing, isn't it Killian?"
My friend considered her briefly before replying, "Beautiful but tragic, hurtful and at times shattering enough to destroy our souls. Beautiful in a very chaotic way, I suppose."
"One is made aware of how intense love is when the hurt, the pain is soothed by the other person's presence. Their eyes," she couldn't stop gazing at me. "The line of their lips when they smile. Even though anger may threaten to shake the foundation of love, we always remain fools that drown in the depths of our lover's eyes."
Wow. I stared back and wondered what was really happening. Wooing me in? I suppose that was it, to be drawn in and captivated.
"I can determine from your speech that you're quite in love at the moment," Killian smiled.
"I've never been this deep and intoxicated by any fashion of love," she said to me from across the table. "I've never been so…eager to see a distinct shade of emerald or to anticipate a simple touch."
"Emma, you are quite a lucky woman," he remarked, turning to me and smiling.
"I've taken some time to sit Chad down and speak with him," she said suddenly, her eyes turning to Killian. Just when I was drowning in them. "His priorities were tangled up into a mess. He held certain affairs as more important than others."
"Like mother, like son," I muttered, reaching for my glass.
Regina's eyes were on me again. "Our talk was quite stimulating to say the least. Two hours of in depth soul searching that unearthed the weaknesses we both were tormented by."
"That sounds like quite a conversation," Killian noted, chewing on his food.
"It was. We are so alike, my son and I. He managed to show me what was lacking on my part as I pinpointed the very same thing in his attitude. His attachment to a social life, seeking out the rush of the moment is quite equivalent to my workaholic ways. To him, settling down with someone is quite the scare. Therefore, whilst he didn't see it as a barrier, I highlighted that he was escaping purposely into clubs and the arms of many lovers to gain some kind of a satisfaction."
"That is ruining," Killian added. "We can try to drown ourselves in the alternative, but it damages us eventually. He will come to realize that we need permanence."
"But is permanence ever achievable?" she blinked at him.
"I believe that it is. When one puts one's mind to it. And it is not found in temporary thrills. Not in the rushes that originate from partying hard up to five in the morning, but the completeness that comes with constantly wanting to be in the arms of someone. To love someone and have them love you back. Knowing that they will be there, to soothe your fears."
"Intimacy."
"Yes," Killian nodded, graceful fingers clutching his knife with a red handle. His chicken was sampled. He chewed. "I want to be with someone who makes time for the existence of an US, someone who chooses to spend time with me instead of time elsewhere. Of course there are other priorities that must be met, but when you love someone, everything else doesn't matter.'
I stared at her and she did the same. Regina swallowed, and tears clouded her eyes.
"Asking for something like that from someone, asking for it as a constant thing, is not okay," I said.
"It isn't?" he turned to me and frowned. "I thought the mere purpose of intimacy and love was to satisfy the appetite for sex?" He laughed and I smiled. Killian pointed his fork and swallowed. "No, but on a serious note, we tend to have this craving inside of us to be satisfied constantly. It is until we connect on a deeper level, by bonding continuously, then is when a sense of normalcy is reached. Then again, perhaps my view differs from yours, for example." This was directed at Regina.
"Most of us are scared and yet we do not realize it," she said softly.
"Oh he's scared," Killian scoffed, neatly handling his knife and fork, never quite knowing that his words were relating to Regina and I as well. "He's scared of becoming committed to me, of allowing the thought of there being an…US…alone. Focusing on me alone instead of his social life. Chad is just..."
The tunes from the piano played on and melted my mind whilst she couldn't stop looking at me. Her plate of food wasn't touched.
"I can't believe that he walked in there with this bloke on his arm, as if feeling some triumphant vibe. Every week it is a different man that is fraternized. He doesn't text me, we never eat together anymore, I am treated as a client. It is ridiculous."
"Sure sounds like it," I said softly. The beef was delicious. No really. With every single chew, the juice squeezed out managed to drown me into this kind of half dazed feeling.
"Chad claims that we spend time together and close to an hour is enough. Forgive me but I am a man who craves intimacy, the simplest affections. I yearn to be near to someone often. Nothing is wrong with me, I know that for certain because there was once a woman I loved who yearned the same thing as me. There are others who wish for such attachments."
I encourage him to tell us about it, although the story had been related to me before.
He spoke about his days when the guitar was an intimate companion, of the times when the strings were caressed with such love. Spending late nights in bars in New York, waiting his turn to play a few tunes that were written with a passionate hand. Killian used to seat himself on the stool upon a stage and play his guitar.
One night whilst the crowd was roaring during an applause, his eyes latched onto what he described as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. A brunette, shoulder length silky hair and her lips stained red. She was clutching a copy of Moby Dick and in his heart, he would always remember the intimacy that developed from observing that rather out of place object. Holding a book in the midst of a bar, her blue eyes pinched from a smile and then they were sharing drinks.
She ended up showing him how addicting drugs were to a tormented mind. A world where she grew up alone and related to him but with such a fragile heart, he could only fix so much.
"Mariana needed me as much as I needed her. We lived for each other and spent so much time together."
"And what happened?" Regina stared at him.
Killian sipped some wine and sighed. "She rubbed the wrong people, bought drugs and didn't pay back. And then one night in July, I was called by the hospital by her brother and was told that she was pronounced dead. From a lethal shot of some poisonous drug." His fingers raked through gelled hair, eyes fluttering close. "I clung on and we had the most amazing affection for each other and then life simply snatched her away."
The silence that stretched on was a painful one. I reached out, rubbed his back and felt how upset he was.
"We tend to take things for granted, don't we?" he suddenly smiled forcefully at me. "We can have everything and then something happens that ends it all. Death. So to open up again to someone, to want them, more than they want me, it is a new feeling but I still welcome hope."
"An awakening," Regina croaked, staring at me. Her fingers curled upon the red tablecloth.
"I'm clingy," I said to Killian, whilst the piano was played with a gentle touch. "People believe that it's a sign of immaturity or it's because of being young."
"It is not so. I am almost thirty five and can safely say that it is a trait that the purest of hearts are lined with. Is it a sin to constantly want the affections of a loved one? I think not. The amount of sonnets and stories that were written on such a topic, where lovers ached to be near constantly, to be the only one and were broken by the diverted attention from another. In life, what matters most isn't always about us. It is also about the other person who craves us as much as if we are their world. Attention in a relationship is never quite understood. We fight to be put on a pedestal and then when we are up there, our lovers stand back and take what they have for granted. But I am coping with it just fine. If he wishes to play about and disregard my feelings then I will do the same."
I told him that it was definite that Chad felt deeply about him, to which he flicked off as ridiculous. Leaving us to use the washroom, there we were, Regina and I, on opposite ends of the table and drowning in silence.
For such a long time, I focused on eating my food whilst she gazed at me. Regina was changing and opening a fresh pair of eyes in my regards because I could feel it. I could feel the way her passion radiated from within, her posture kinked and chest heaving. All the time, I kept thinking that nothing would ever happen to us because we wanted different things.
I thought something was still wrong with me.
Most of you most likely think the same thing, that mentally, something was really wrong and my definition of love wasn't ideal. That I was twisted in my beliefs and I wanted things a little too much. But are you ever going to fully be able to define the meaning of love? How dare you judge me because of what my heart contains without understanding that everyone wants something different in life?
I was quite aware that I had friends who were the same as me. Killian was just like me. So was Neal. So if there were two other people in the entire world that wanted things in life as much as I did, then it was okay. A cause is not effective when we stand alone, as they say, but the importance grows when additional voices join together.
That's what happened. After Killian opened up like that, I felt so comfortable with myself, and knew that it wasn't about me needing her more. It was about how strong my love for her was and what mattered to me. What mattered was dinner and lunch and laughing over silly jokes. What mattered was special moments and having her in my arms whilst we rode out and stared at the lights over the Hudson River.
What we used to have when we were still tapping into our love for each other.
Oftentimes, it is an essential part in life to observe and learn. As they say, babies are modeled as they grow, after the behaviors of their parents. A mother who whispers sweet words and is always supportive of you. A father who loves you but he never quite believed that I could really make it on my own out there. Both of them combined were so in love, up to this day, I vouched for their happiness and marveled over it. Constantly I would speak of their union because it was always an example for me. A good example.
It is not my fault that my parents raised my expectations on love because they did so in the simplest setting called a home. That bond I grew to understand was so powerful between the two of them, no matter how many times they had disagreements, mom always fought her way back in and soothed my father's heart. Dad always ended up buying flowers for her and he would cook when she was angry. He would go home early and put on a movie, luring her downstairs to watch the film with him. And I'd just be there, watching and learning.
We had family time because my parents were traditional.
Dinner time was strictly for us to eat and be with each other. The following morning, dad stopped by just enough at the table to tease me about school and boys whilst mom busied herself with the making of pastries or some other delicacy. But they were always around and the times when they weren't, they compensated for it.
Yeah, dad used to come home late but he'd sit with her and talk.
They mattered to each other. For crying out loud, both of them bought Nokia phones and texted each other all the time. And it wasn't the easy touch keypad that we use. It was the old fashioned one with like three presses to get one letter.
When we left the restaurant that night, and Killian was dropped off at his apartment, he made us agree to do dinner with him again that Sunday at his place. Back in the car, she sat on one side whilst I remained on the other side, arms folded and staring out the window.
"Miss Emma, what time should I pick you up tomorrow?" Mario smiled at me in the rear view mirror.
Usually I drove to work but since he was being so sincere. "I guess you can -"
"Be there for both of us by a quarter to eight," she cut in. "And from Monday to Friday, be ready for me after work at five thirty. On Saturdays, the usual midday preference. If anything changes, well..." her eyes turned to me, "I will inform you."
I stared at her. She stared back. Then we remained silent.
The keys jingled as we walked down the dimly lit hallway. Somehow, she had taken my backpack off of me and was hugging it, trailing behind. Not a word was said at first, nothing at all. And then I reached for the alarm, disabled it. I unlocked the door.
She waited until we were safely inside then deposited my bag onto the table where the keys were kept, lit by the warmest yellow originating from a lamp. From there, I was walked back suddenly whilst she advanced on me and my shoulders were taken. My space was invaded dangerously.
When Regina crushed her lips onto mine, I was dazed at first. Her move knocked the wind out of me and my mind clouded with little stars behind eyes squeezed shut. I tasted wine and the familiarity of her warmth, how soft her lips were, parting to capture mine between. She was so amazing in that moment, pressing us together and lingering there, savoring our nearness. My eyes fluttered open and in that couple of seconds, I noted how in the still of the moment, with our lips touching, parted lips, she was completely captivated in me.
Her hands ran down my arms, squeezing and moving in further, she unearthed this passion inside of me that was burning up fast. Our chests heaved when we pulled apart. I stared into her brown eyes and saw something there that had been missing for a long time.
We lingered in that kiss, she and I. Staying there and tasting the moment, allowing seconds to slide by without separation.
"Do you want me to still give you space?" her question was really funny because even when I was supposed to have space, said space was invaded all the time. "Is that what you want?"
"No," my head was shaken. I tried to breathe. "I really don't want space right now."
"Then what do you want?" her brown eyes widened. "To break up with me? I've told you before and I'll remind you again, if you break up with me, I will not let you go easily."
I actually smiled, eyes lowered. "I don't want to break up with you. I just want to be with you. And I need hugs and I need to kiss you and be with you. I just want that."
"Then you shall have it," she said, without skipping a beat. "I don't want us to fight, ever again." Rubbing our noses together, I still felt a bit uneasy inside but returned the affectionate move.
Whilst she was in the shower later on, curiosity got the best of me.
I pawed around between the folded pillow cases and realized that more than one thing had changed. The little yellow velvet covered box with the ring inside had been moved. It was missing. Pulling a chair, I got up higher and searched some more.
It was gone.
Her black jacket was on the chair, the one she had worn to work. So I got down and in the process of doing so, the article of clothing tumbled onto the ground. There was a lump in the pocket, as I noted and frowned. Then something tumbled out.
You can imagine my astonishment when I realized that the box had been in there for the entire day. The little yellow box containing the ring. What had she been planning to do with it? All of that had thoughts racing through my head.
Hearing the crackle of the shower curtain, I quickly placed the chair back next to the vanity and slid the box inside, folding the jacket neatly over the back.
Did she plan to propose to me?
But how could she and Killian had been there?
All of this had me wondering and I couldn't stop myself.
"I'm sorry I raised my voice at you," she said hoarsely, coming into the room, beads of water clinging to her honey colored shoulders. "Before…"
I shrugged, went to the window and stared outside whilst the wardrobe was opened from behind me. It was just after nine and a peaceful night. Looking down below, I detected a slow pace of traffic, and very few pedestrians loitering about. Around twelve, the prostitutes would slink out of the shadows. I didn't believe that we'd both be up by then.
"Do you think that I'm a good kisser?" she made me smile for some odd reason because the question was just so random.
"Yep." The lining of the blind tickled my right cheek. I pushed it away.
"Am I really bossy in relation to you?" I could see her frowning from behind me without turning around. "Is that what you really think?"
"Not intentionally. But you are in a way. Telling me where to put my clothes and what to eat and what to wear to work."
"Then I will stop."
The sound of bottles of perfume tinkling whilst hitting each other met my ears.
I sighed. "No. Don't. It takes so much effort from me to decide on those things. So that when you do it, there's always good results and I appreciate it."
"I'm a control freak."
"I really don't care."
"My OCD makes me want to control things, to have them my way. Because anything else is chaotic. I must do things my way. I just can't help it."
"We've managed for so many months with you doing just that. And it's okay," I turned to her. She was standing there in her red Victoria Secret nightgown already, the one with lace trimmings. "I just have one problem and you're already aware of it."
"Am I?" brown eyes widened.
"I think that you are now."
Her chest heaved, the swell of honey colored breasts over that black lace trimming. "You're not clingy. You're in love with me," she croaked.
"See?" I smiled back at her. "You get it now."
"I learned to numb that part of me," she reached for a pillow on the bed and squeezed it.
"Then wake it up again because I want you to."
"And what if we latch ourselves onto each other so much that we grow tired?" Seating herself on the edge of the bed, Regina gazed at me.
"I don't think that you ever grow tired of wanting someone as much as I want you," I stepped towards her and tried to breathe. She watched me approach her silently. "Now all I want to do is to sleep. I'm so tired. Tired of talking, of arguing, of using up so much emotions. I'm also tired of the tension between us, so thick, I can literally cut it with a knife."
Already lying on her right side, head buried into the softest of pillows I had ever come across, she smiled in the dark. The room was dimly lit by the only yellow lamp that remained powered just upon the vanity that was littered was her cosmetics. Ranging from brushes to a massive eyeshadow case and eyeliners. It's funny but whenever a saddened mood would wash over her, the absence of makeup was something to gaze on. She would simply discard the liquid eyeliner and mascara, scrubbing her face with warm water and soap that was apple scented.
"Emma, I have a suggestion," she whispered, as I felt warm fingers reaching for mine, entwining and squeezing. "Shall I continue?"
I nodded, gazed into her eyes and awaited the verdict.
"It might come across as quite silly and very immature of sorts, but..." my fingers were played with, "what if we use up an entire notepad, colorful ones if you prefer. And we write down every single thing we love about each other. Everything that brings us together, and the qualities, the moments that have astounded us. What if we write all of them down, on several notes and place them into two separate boxes. I'll put mine in one with your name and vice versa." Her eyes were the warmest of browns.
"Then when we disagree, when we are in doubt or we find something lacking, we can seek out the boxes and read what the other person has written. Coming to that warm place again, in a way." She nodded. "Becoming whole again."
Possibly the best course of action I had ever heard concerning couples. A little bit corny but I was a sucker for all the mushy bits in romance. My heart latched itself onto those activities that were labeled as intense bonding. Where two people would sit and gaze into each other's eyes and reminisce on the deepest moments that bonded them. Fingers entwined and sitting under a stretch of night sky sprinkled with stars. Therefore her suggestion seemed to be really approving on my behalf.
I loved it.
I told her this and she pulled me closer, resting our foreheads together. Fingers raking through my disheveled blonde hair that was always a tangled mess in the most special moments like these. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and lips parted. I remembered thinking that we had gone through several rough patches and somehow, somehow she had found a way to make us meet again. Whether silently or just by kissing me, trying to enact the spin of the wheel that sent love racing through my heart. It was achieved.
Somehow.
Up to this day, I really never drifted back to that place to pick apart the situation. As delicate as it may seem, the bickering had gone on too long, even for a youngster as myself and a sophisticated lady who had sailed through the hardships of life. I didn't return to that night, to seek out where she lured me in again and why I ended the tension and the feud and the fighting.
It just happened.
It happened maybe as a chain reaction, beginning from when Killian spoke about his life and his feelings. Ending off when Mario asked what time he should pick me up.
It continued for that week when she came home early and we watched television together. Moving from there, we made dinner and ate together. I helped her wash the dishes, we talked through it and not once did the past few days come up again. Not once did she bring it up, scratching at the sore and causing it to redden. Regina simply wished to move past that and it was probably the best idea ever, encouraging me to gaze forward and never look back. There was a reason why the rear view mirror was smaller than the size of the glass showing you what's ahead. What remained behind did matter but not to a large extent. What stretched out ahead was far more important.
As promised, a really amazing Sunday came with warm sunshine and a quietness that washed over New York, below the balcony like no other and it was that same day we were invited over to Killian's apartment.
She took one freaking hour to get ready whilst I sat outside on the sofa watching a Lifetime movie. I specifically remembered that there was a diary and maybe it was called 'The Devil's Diary', but I can't be sure. But whilst I became enthralled by this girl becoming possessed after writing in this beat up looking book, Regina fitted herself into a dark pink cotton dress with a black belt and patted powder on honey colored cheeks.
"It's almost six," I reminded her, rising up to close the glass doors leading out to the balcony. "What are you doing? Trying on a billion outfits?"
"No," there was the sound of perfume being sprayed. "I'm putting on my face."
Rolling my eyes, I tumbled onto the couch lazily. "You don't have to put on a face. Your face is already beautiful."
"To you it is, but to others..."
"Do you honestly care what other people think? Isn't my opinion all that matters?"
"Spoken like a true girlfriend," her hoarse chuckle met my ears. "Imagine if I spent a little too long outdoors without my foundation and powder. And my face grew severely oily. My lips grew cracked and hands dry as sandpaper, what would you think of me?"
"I'd...take care of it," I shrugged even though she couldn't see me, staring at the television.
"How?" Regina was smiling, and I could tell.
"I'd take you in a washroom, get a couple tissues, wet it, and wipe your face. I'd use some of my chap stick on your lips. That would do the trick. As for your hands, I'd probably find some olive oil in the person's kitchen and apply it."
"Emma!"
"But not too much. I know how your hands get sweaty from too much cream like mine."
"Olive oil?" she appeared at the corner of my vision and I turned to smile at her. "Is that your remedy?"
"Well if you prefer me to dig in the people's washroom drawers or slink into their bedrooms and find baby oil or something..."
Rolling her eyes, shoulders hunched, she was clutching a rectangular black purse. "You are unbelievable."
I gawked at her pink dress and the pair of cute, black, shiny high heeled shoes. "Remind me why I haven't made love to you yet since we patched up things?"
The door was opened and I pushed myself up lazily, grabbing my cheap Samsung Galaxy Mini S3 that was now nothing compared to Killian's S6.
"Because we agreed to adjust gradually after that...span of turmoil. Perhaps a few days would be enough before we lunge at each other." We were both outside now and I stared at her as she enabled the alarm. She was smirking. "Ripping off your clothes. Oh the things my dreams have been filled with these past few nights. The things I did to you."
"I'm not the screamer," I leaned into her and whispered, our shoulders bumping. "Remember? You are."
"Tables can turn." Her cheeks colored.
"You have a pair of healthy lungs, don't you?"
"Emma Swan, get a grip." Her purse was clutched tighter. "I am not a screamer."
"Oh really?" I threw an arm around her and smiled as we went into the elevator alone. "Remember that one time we made love and you went to work the next day, completely hoarse. And Barbara had to buy you a pack of mints? Remember?"
"No," she inhaled deeply.
"I used three fingers and not two."
Regina turned to stare at me, eyes wide. "Emma! Must you do this to me now? I am trying to prevent myself from lunging at you, and biting your -" The elevator stopped and the doors hissed open.
A couple got in and smiled at us. They addressed Regina by her name and started to talk about some wedding they were headed to. She and I stared at each other until the elevator got to the ground floor and when we were out of it, my hand was snatched and squeezed firmly.
Killian's darker tones within his new apartment was something that my mind always marveled over. The rich, chocolate colored walls that were polished to a shine and the yellow lamps that cast an eerie glow around his quarters. It was like walking into a ship's interior, below deck and becoming lost in how secluded his abode was. Quite cut off from the street below with large windows shielded by green curtains. A sense coolness settled around the place, and I would always wonder why he had a fireplace and a heater just for when winter would come and go. Yet, the very presence of a fireplace with logs placed strategically at crisscross angles tickled my mind.
He had a very fluffy white cat with large green eyes that immediately took quite a liking to Regina.
As soon as she moved to caress the many books tucked between his shelves, Chessie wrapped her soft body around honey colored legs. Twirling this way and that, a round face gazing up and this little mewing sound originating from her mouth; she was a little angel. The price he paid for her, I had no idea but she was bought, according to Neal. She received her baths every weekend and was brushed, cuddled and fed only canned food.
"Keep distance between us," Regina scowled, pointing down at Chessie's green eyes. "Do you understand me? Not a fur must be transferred onto me or else I will choke your little -"
Killian cleared his throat and smiled at me, hands held behind his back. "I dare say, do you like my collection of books thus far, lady Regina?"
That would always work like a charm, addressing her like royalty because she would melt in the split of a second. Those brown eyes would become softer and right there and then, he was considered with a little smile that stretched wider.
"Yes."
"Edgar Allan Poe," he stepped forward, his back stiff as a poker and gestured to the bookcase gracefully, "his works are just there, as you might pinpoint."
Whilst The Raven was pulled carefully from the third shelf, I stooped to scoop up Chessie and nuzzled my face into her soft neck. Cats were kind of like my ultimate weakness. Mom hated them but dad adored the little angels. At times, I could honestly remember us always having one in the house when I was growing up. Always. We had a dog. We had a cat. It was just the way things worked in that little cottage of ours. And whilst people would cry over soppy movies and their hearts getting broken, I used to cry because of the ill-treated cats around Storybrooke, wanting to collect them all like Pokemons and train them or something to defend themselves.
It would appear as if Chessie really found something quite fascinating about Regina's ankles. No matter how many times she was scolded or how many times she was nudged away, a scornful look on Regina's face, the white ball of fur moved in bravely again. She batted at invisible butterflies and curled up, massaging her back upon the dark green carpet as if trying oh so hard to win Regina's affections.
"I hope you fancy steak," Killian didn't waste time but showed us to the table just between the small living room and his kitchen. Three places were laid out with cutlery and plates, the food, still steaming resided in the middle. "With everything else to round the meal off quite nicely. Wine or something else?"
"Coke for me," I shrugged.
"No."
My mouth was clamped shut and I stared at Regina. She stare back. "What? I haven't had one in ages!" Which was a lie because I had one just that week.
"Wine or a fruit juice of any kind or even a cool glass of water would do nicely for her," my beverage order was given without any consultation by me. I pouted. "I'll have whatever you're having, Killian."
"Ah, the finest rum I have ever tasted, and I am quite a sampler," Killian smiled at her before moving to his small collection of spirits, "it must be the fifteen year old Extra Mature El Dorado Rum. Hailing from the Southern Hemisphere and from the tropical climate." A bottle was fetched but he merely rested it upon the table and moved back to the rack.
"I really don't do rum," Regina scrunched up her face. "It was...something my ex-husband swallowed to my distaste."
She always had her picky tastes. I hope he didn't mind. "The man knows something about the ways of a sailor," he smiled and tapped his nose. "Might I suggest a glass of Bourbon for you then?"
"That would be most welcome,"
"Look, please don't give her anything strong, because when she loosens up, it takes a while to tighten up back her screws."
"I beg your pardon?" widened brown eyes focused in my direction.
"And then the problem comes with getting her back home and having her torment me for half the night. No time to sleep."
"What kind of torment?" I was winked at by Killian who neatly sat down the same time as we did.
"Ask her," I jerked my chin across the table.
"Regina?" Killian unfolded his green napkin and fixed it across his lap, eyes dancing with mischief.
She took some time before answering, red painted lips licked and an intake of breath. "I...become restless," head slightly inclined to the left, she shrugged. "I cannot stay in one place and it is like...my mind is on fire. Forgive me, but can you please...order your...pet to sit in the corner? She is chewing my right ankle."
"Probably giving you a hickey," I said across the table.
The look I got could have been hot enough to sizzle me.
"Now, now, now Chessie," Killian gazed lovingly at his darling below and smiled. "Be a lovely little flower and seek out the bedroom for a little while."
The purring sound made me adore her. Chest puffed out, she sat there looking up at him.
"I understand." Killian became so mellow. "I will reward you generously."
"She kind of looks like you," I said to Regina, as she helped herself to some rice and steamed vegetables. "All Queen-like and confident. But a big softy inside."
"I am no softy."
The faint instrumental tunes drifted from his Bose speakers and placed me in such a relaxed mood, my toes curled inside brown leather boots. "Yeah, you are. Just like Chessie, you're a mush ball. A big, mushy mush ball. Curling up like a cat most days and purring."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you've been living here for three months now?" I was cut off gracefully, like her graceful manner of cutting the steak, any time she had to use cutlery would always astound me.
Killian chewed around a mouthful of food and nodded, eyes lowered.
"He leased it for a year," I stated, remembering that much. "Had to pay down in advance for four months though."
"Really?" she frowned at him whilst I felt Chessie kissing my right boot repeatedly. "How strange. Four months."
"It is, isn't it?" Killian cleared his throat and took a small sip of rum, the liquid appearing golden in the lamplight. "It was quite a catch, this place. In fact, I had my eye on it for a few months now and after browsing other potential spaces, this one warmed my soul. It came fully furnished. Of course the green carpeting was done by me and I added a few extras. But the interior is quite marvelous. Very cozy. And it is not too pricey."
"Impressive," she stared at him, fork poised in midair. "Well I shouldn't speak any different because in relation to my condo, it was practically hauled off the market in the blink of an eye by me. The second it was up for grabs, I made the snatch. Well...Chad helped as well."
"I see," he studied her face and I chewed. Whilst they marveled over living spaces, I marveled over the juiciness of the steak and vegetables.
"It was a friend of a friend of a friend who informed him about the place," she elaborated, the hoarse quality of her voice melting me. "From there, it was placed alongside three other options and I visited all three. And made the selection."
"There were three options for me as well, but the other two are fairly further from here. The views aren't that...captivating and I was seeking out a sense of tranquility."
"Of course," she nodded because that was understood.
The peace and quiet.
"That's one thing about living in Maine," I said to them, easing myself into the conversation, "not so much vehicles and noise and foot traffic. Just the crash of the waves and birds chirping at nights."
"Ah," Killian was intrigued. He always was, by nature.
"I must say that I had the best sleep within a span of...give or take twenty years whilst we stayed at your parents," Regina agreed with a small smile. "Such quietness and the freshness of the air."
"And that's another thing about living in the city," Killian pointed out whilst Chessie's paws batted my knees, "the air is quite toxic. If I had the income set aside to do such a thing, I'd rent a cabin, even in Maine and spend time up there. Just to manage a lungful of fresh air."
"Something I used to take for granted," I muttered. "It's like everywhere you go out here, someone's always blowing cigarette smoke in your freaking face."
"That's disgusting," Regina screwed up her face.
"It is," Killian agreed. "And worst of all, the mentality of many people in this city has this...stench. Such impurity that is bitter and uninviting. I'm not referring to immorality alone but the corruptness of minds in relation to drugs and prostitution, sex."
"Neal loves New York," I reminded him, savoring the yummy broccoli.
"Of course Neal would love New York," Killian said warily, "he loves women who are modernized and the thrills of life. Yet he finds the mere smell of old books to be severely intoxicating." He shook his head. "Quite a complex man."
"A hopeless romantic, more like," I smiled.
Regina was suddenly gazing at me and when caught, I was drawn in by force. "I'm a hopeless romantic." She blinked slowly, sucking me in. "I love the smell of books and poetry. Candlelight dinners, cuddling and so much more."
I swallowed and lowered my eyes. "You made me forget for a while."
She did manage at some point to bury those parts of her deep down into a pit of absence and silence. Many times when our eyes would latch upon each other and we'd share the depths of our souls, two people that understood the raw feeling of love. Our bond that was so strong, had begun so warm and did continue to burn inside chests that contained beating hearts. Love that was so passionate and the warmest kind. A romance that was rare and yet at some point, we had lost our way.
"I hope to remind you then," and there was a small smile, but this time, her eyes were lowered as I gazed into a face that suddenly grew flushed.
Killian was marveling over our secretive moment. "You two," he said, quite amazed, "you're the perfect match in every way possible way. Your chemistry is such a delightful thing to observe."
"Careful," Regina's husky voice curled my toes, "you might just force Emma to lose her appetite."
I watched her use the green napkin to dab at those red painted lips. "Too late."
Somehow we managed to control ourselves for the rest of the evening in the company of a man who was so much of a gentleman. When dinner was over, he showed us to the living room and we sat upon his set of caramel colored leather chairs. Even though I selected a single seat just across from where she curled up, my eyes couldn't latch onto anything else. Not Killian, not even Chessie who showed herself again, only to curl up just near Regina's chair.
How could someone be so beautiful?
How could she always continue to astound me like that, to make me lose my breath and chase every single thought away? How could she? The way she sat was to exactly match a Queen, royalty, with the poise of a woman who contained so much confidence within, confidence that would always envelope the insecurities and destroy them. When her back remained stiff as a poker, legs crossed, she still could never appear rigid and intimidating to me. Not in this lifetime and not in any other, I suppose because my love for her would always soften the way everyone else saw the person sitting before me.
She wasn't just glorious, her beauty was so captivating, I could gaze at the flutter of eyelashes for such a long time. The way those brown eyes appeared as always like melted chocolates, drawing me in more and more. Bending me to her beck and call. I would do anything for her. I would stop myself from feeling wrong about our disagreements just to make things right again. I'd shut the storm away just to see her smile again and I honestly believed every single word in Michael Bolton's song titled 'when a man loves a woman', because those words were so true.
It's like you were drugged, bewitched, fed a potion or your heart was held captive. Sitting there, everything around me was muted and my heart just latched itself onto her very presence, drinking in all there was to behold. I wasn't just at a point in my life anymore where this was a simple relationship and things could be predicted. There was a sense of not knowing what would happen, but never fearing anymore what lay ahead. I knew there and then that whatever life threw at me, from then on, everything would be faced with the utmost love. We'd deal with everything together. We'd get through it. And because I wasn't afraid of what would happen to us, I felt stronger.
I felt whole again.
"Your turn," and she laughed within her throat.
I was suddenly in the apartment, realizing that we were back home and alone. There was a black and red checkered board between us. The round, plastic pieces had already been moved about several times and I was in control of black whilst she always chose red.
"Accept defeat, Emma."
"Never," I smiled and tried to focus again. My piece was moved but badly.
"Ha," and she jumped over two of my armed forces with her red piece, eating both with this little smirk, head tilted sideways. "You lose."
"Not as yet. I have a Queen." My thumb hovered over the two pieces of black sandwiched together.
"Of course you do," she was gazing at me, that husky voice curling my toes. "I'm right here."
That made me smile, cheeks growing warm.
"Say it," she reached out and brushed cupped fingers across my lips. The sound of traffic out on the street, minutes to ten in the night.
"Say what?" I cleared my throat and ate two of her pieces. My lips were licked, eyes lowered. "That you're my Queen?"
"No."
I looked at her and waited.
The left strap on that pretty dark pink cotton dress slipped off her shoulder. The lining of her black lace bra caught my attention immediately and I stopped breathing. Where there was the wonderful lace of her bra, there was also so much cleavage and more to be exposed even then. It appeared as if she wasn't even aware of what was happening when a move was made to lean forward and collect a red piece because it was her turn. I saw enough to spin my mind dangerously and a racing heart began to go down a course that would cause it to crash.
"You're my Queen," she said. "As you know already. Don't you?"
It was enough to draw me nearer. I couldn't believe my next move and it probably stunned her. Moving forward, I couldn't breathe as I crawled over the board and scattered the pieces. Brown eyes widened when she saw me coming on all fours. There was this thirst in me that could only be quenched one way, and that was to kiss her. But the meeting of our lips didn't come so fast as it would seem because whilst I advanced, she leaned back. And even when she moved back, I moved in further.
I planted myself right where the situation made me feel so dominant and when she lowered herself onto the red carpet, the distance was closed even further.
"Emma." Eyelashes fluttered when she gazed up at me, dark hair fanning out.
"Can I kiss you?" Our lips were half an inch apart and parted, warm breath kissing my face.
Her chest heaved uncontrollably and we fitted so perfectly together, legs entwined already. "Yes."
Moving in, I captured her mouth and tasted the sweetness of Bourbon. I kissed her softly and slowly, passion building up between us whilst we writhed and moaned, heads tilting, fingers raking through my blonde hair and pushing strands back. It was the moment itself that burned us up quickly. The way we positioned ourselves and the desire in our chests that licked like fire. A never-ending feeling. A candle that wouldn't ever reach its last flame. Biting her bottom lip and pulling, watching her and feeling how she trembled beneath me, I knew.
I knew that we had been yearning for something for so long. Something that tasted so sweet and strong. Tilting her head back, I grazed my teeth across her jawline and sucked on skin that was already growing damp from the heat created between us. Fingers entwined eventually, I drew our hands over her head and rested our foreheads together.
She was fighting to breathe.
We stared at each other.
We just stared at each other without moving, just staying there, chests heaving. And then I pushed myself up from the heels of my palms, took a hold of the chair, got onto my feet and locked eyes with her again. She was lying there, like a doll, that pink dress creased and slightly bunched up around shapely exposed thighs. She was just looking at me. And I smiled.
"You fool," Regina croaked, scowling. "You imbecile. You...twat."
"What?" I shrugged. "Are those my pet names now? How rude. When I liked dear and sweetheart and cupcake so much more."
"So you're going to delightfully turn the key in the ignition, then leave me panting here at your feet. How advantageous."
"We agreed to take things slow, remember?" I winked and licked my lips.
"So you shut it down."
"Yep," I nodded.
"Pull me up," her hands were lifted. She dangled them, thighs squeezed together, knees bent.
I took one step back and smiled.
"Emma, pull me up."
Another step, enjoying myself.
"Emma." She groaned. "Pull me up. Are you just going to leave me here like this? Emma! Get back here! I command it!" One of my pony holders, a black one fell from the chair and landed on her face and Regina honestly thought it was a living thing.
She batted at it and squealed, getting to her feet in a matter of seconds and darting away from the spot, hugging herself.
"It's just my pony holder," I said from the doorway.
Brown eyes turned to me and fire flickered within. "You'll pay for this," she growled.
And before I could anticipate her next move, Regina advanced on me, fists clenched. Very soon, I threw myself onto the bed and grabbed the pillows, curling up. But she pounced and came in, sending me into a fit of giggles whilst I was continuously tickled and fought with.
X
A/N – Every WEDNESDAY. I'll keep the updates coming on that day. Hope you liked it! REVIEW and let me know! Follow me on Twitter ( KarlieMaria) and Tumblr (karlitaswriter)!