Disclaimer: This work is purely a fan made, written with the intention of expanding the fanbase of Final Fantasy VIII's QuistisXSeifer and having fun, not gaining any kind of material profit.
Author's Note: After years, I finally got my lazy ass back to writing. So, here's a small attempt and will I put into my comeback. Anyway, English isn't my first language, nor did I study any form of English Literature.
Between Fine Lines
I.
She was wearing a black evening dress in the middle of a summer. Three thirteen in the morning, on a balcony. Her friend was a glass of red wine. Her golden hair bundled up, a few strands escaped by the help of the chilly wind. It was dark, but sufficient enough to illuminate her stunningly slender figure.
The thing which captivated his eyes the most, however, was a trail of sweat. It was running down her bare back, perpendicular with a string of chains dangling on the crossed straps of her dress. At the end of those tiny chains was a zirconia-a small one, resting on her plump bosom. Such a contrast.
Her face, once unmoving and serene, was suddenly distorted with a sense of displeasure. His eyes stalked her ocean-blue eyes, as well as her appealingly long fingers, which were running to her breasts. They were firm, and exposed timidly by the V cut of her dress. Strangely alluring, nonetheless, what were with those few drops of red wine spotting her chest here and there.
Even when she purposely let out a curse, tripped on the long dress on her way into her own room, this dawn, unbeknown to her, she had, effortlessly, become an art.
And here in Gozo, he was searching for one.
o o o
An hour later, he found himself hardly asleep. It was not cold, nor was it too hot. His single bed was not hard, nor was it too soft for his liking. There was no noise, nor any annoying sound. His hotel room was not narrow, nor was it too spacious as to make him feel like he was all alone.
Everything, for now, was perfect. An hour ago, however, was a different story. He should have had called her, said a simple "Hi" perhaps before that fucking red wine ruined his silent observatory and she had to go inside her room to wipe it off her chest. For fuck's sake, her room was right next to his. But no, he just had to stand there, on his balcony which was next to hers. And dare his mind admitted he had been petrified, by what, and by this question alone, he just had to shut his mind up.
Quistis fucking Trepe. Seifer fucking Almasy. They had been classmates in high school. And they had not got along. He had been a player, a delinquent. She had been the proper one, with those glasses and books in arms. They had not been friends, at all, they had barely talked. When they had not liked each other, however, everybody had known.
When they said time changed people, they did not lie. Look what six years had done to her, and look what they had also done to his mind.
A sigh escaped his chapped lips, joining in with the warm weather. His hands reached the buttons of his white shirt, undoing them one by one. When he was finished, he threw the fabric onto the marble floor. His left hand landed on his toned stomach, stroking gently every abdominal muscle. His right one, on the other hand, rested on his eyes, instantly blocking his vision. He was trying to get back the sleep which, according to his mind, had been stolen by the very woman sleeping next to his room.
o o o
He was roused from his slumber at sunrise. Fuck, his crotch was suffocating him. He needed to pee. After that, he wore his shirt unbuttoned, and led his steps into the balcony. And by anything, there she was, again with the red wine. He had been speechless, but he'd be damned if he let go of this chance now.
"Trepe." When his drowsy voice reached her, she had put her focus on him. Probably because the sound of his balcony doors. That was funny, considering how earlier she had paid his person no mind at all. Had she been sober and now planned to get drunk again?
"Seifer," she countered. The way she lifted her brows was the proof of how surprised she was to see him, out of all people, here, next to her, in Gozo.
The second thing after her presence which held his gaze was her fairly exposed thigh. Blame her stupidly short nightgown. "I see you've picked a habit of getting drunk in the morning." He motioned his head toward the alcohol in her hand.
She frowned first, then said, "I haven't and probably won't."
He chuckled at her. "It's okay. There's no shame in drinking, whenever, wherever."
"Right." She rolled her eyes. "So, what are you doing here?"
He folded his arms on top of the white stone rails. "Looking for arts," he answered simply as he tilted his gaze to the rising sun. "Need some for my new book."
"Between Fine Lines. That was your debut, right?"
He simply nodded.
"All my girl friends were crazy about it. It was really hot, they said." She smiled as she put a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.
"What about you?" He turned his head to her, watching her body leaning toward the sunrise.
"Oh, no, I'm not really a fan of erotic fictions." She guided the glass to her full red lips, then took a sip.
"I mean, what are you doing here?"
She laughed a little in embarrassment at her mistake. "I'm just on a vacation."
"Getting drunk first hand in the morning while you're on a vacation, don't you have a tour or something later?" He snickered.
A sigh almost escaped her. Time did change people, but some things would always stay. Seifer Almasy being an asshole seemed to be the inseparable subjects she did not need. "I didn't book a tour, and I'm not getting drunk." She was facing him, and giving out the most flattened look her face could ever phase.
"Three in the morning earlier I was here but you didn't notice at all. What do you say?" He raised one of his brows in a quizzical manner.
This time, the sigh did escape her, in a forceful way.
"I told you it's okay." He brushed his blond hair back and flashed out a smile. "We should catch up later. What about breakfast? You can also tell me what made you drunk at three in the morning."
She pursed her lips together, rolled her eyes for the second time, nevertheless agreed to his invitation.
o o o
He had refused to have breakfast in their hotel, insisted that he wanted to try Coffee Break in Ghawdex. For approximately thirty minutes, they had caught up, according to him. According to her, however, he had just been a general pain in her ass, with all those same old snide remarks which had occasionally slipped out of his lips. She had admitted that she was absolutely in shock when she had learned that he had actually gone to college to study English Literature. He, on the other hand, had been the complete opposite. The idea of her getting a Mathematical degree in Cambridge was not impossible, he just had not put any thought about it. He had also learned that Karen, once one of their classmates, had gotten married a year ago. He had not been in her wedding. She, on the other hand, had just learned that Kevin, also one of their classmates, had died in a car accident. After that, all they had talked about had been trivial things, for him at least.
"So, are you here alone?" he served a new topic to their conversation, which, according to him, was getting dull. He rolled the sleeves of his maroon shirt, then treated himself with a sip of black coffee.
"Was not, but now I am." She forked her syrup-glazed pancake and guided a piece to her mouth. "I was with my boyfriend."
"Damn." It was a spontaneous curse. His eyes turned into a pair of fine slits, fixating solely on her figure which was nicely wrapped in a white frilly, short dress. "And I thought you were available."
She gulped once and returned his gaze with the same fashion he was giving her. "Available for what?"
"So, where's Mr. Lucky?" He completely ignored her question.
She absent-mindedly chewed the insides of her cheek. "He went back to New York for work." She guided her cup of tea to her lips then enjoyed a large gulp.
The muscles on his face formed a smirk, an annoying one, if she was permitted to add. It was as if God had bestowed upon him a divine realization. "I believe it's hot." His comment, topped with the smug and stupid grin, may have come out as out of place to other people-not to her, of course. Thirty minutes talking to him had granted her the ability to fathom what all of that meant.
Instead of verbally responding, she made herself busy by looking through the window beside her. Oh, how she wished she had been outside, merging with the pedestrian, and forgetting this fact. The fact that she had just told him that her boyfriend had left her here, in Gozo, to be on a vacation alone. She could just keep on feeding him lies about her boyfriend's busy schedule, but the back of her mind insisted that it would not bear even a single fruit. Her gut feeling told her that he would just find out one way or another. He would rummage through every corner of her mind; digging out truth from every word that parted her person without a plan; exhibited dominance and conquered her mind. He would just know. Thirty minutes being with him had taught her that much. Why-oh, God, just why, had she not learned to keep her trail of words better around this asshole?
"Are you feeling sour with him? Is that why you've been drinking at weird hours?" His smirk just got wider-if that was even possible at this point.
He just hit the jackpot. There was no point in lying about work and busy schedules anymore. And so, she admitted defeat by letting go of a sigh.
He shrugged as he toned down that smirk into a simple smile. "I'm all ears, you know."
"It's none of your business." She was giving her best and focusing on her meals, not bothering to steal even a single glance at the man in front of her.
"Okay, nevermind, but answer these." His muscular arms made a sudden appearance on the table, both folded neatly, and his broad shoulder leaned an inch toward her. "How long will you stay here? Do you have plans already?"
Those questions successfully granted him her attention. Their eyes met unexpectedly. Blue clashed with green. "Why?" She had to ask.
"I'm asking you first." A slight grin graced his handsome face.
Her lips parted, unnecessary words almost spilling. She prevented them, nevertheless, by biting her lower lip. "I have four days here. And no, no plan."
His grin, as well as his proximity to her, roused a centimeter. "Here's the deal: I'll be your company until you depart. We'll go to places, we can do whatever you want. All the shits in your head, name them, I'm game. You can talk about anything to me, pour your heart out about Mr. Lucky-I'll be all ears. Or if you don't wanna talk, that's also cool. We'll just have fun, spend our days here and do what's beneficial for us. But as soon as those four days end, they'll be nothing, we'll be nothing. We'll pretend those times never happened."
For the second time, her lips parted, but now she made no effort to close them at all. She was sure that she possessed a great deal of intelligence. That intelligence, however, had just lost its functionality to establish a tangible response to his offer.
He took her silence as a chance to initiate more offer, "We're two people, alone in an unknown place. Why not make the best out of this heaven?" His grin still insisted, but it softened by a fraction. Their proximity, however, did not. It just grew more intense, with his lips next to her ear, and the soft, low whispers, "I don't know how you've lived your life these past few years. But I'm willing to bet that you need a bad guy once in a while."
She gulped. Hard.
o o o
She was standing in an open hallway, in the middle of statues on low railways which were carved to look like humans. She fished out a phone from the inside of her brown sling bag, then took a picture of the Neo-Romanesque building standing tall in front of her. As she was about to hit the capture button, however, a face with a hint of grooviness popped into her screen.
"Go away, Seifer." She snorted and rolled her eyes.
His laugh echoed. Nevertheless, he let her take a picture of Ta' Pinu and all of its glory. When she was done, they were walking side by side into the church. The outside of the church was beautiful, she noticed. In front of the open hallway, there was a circular terrace with four sets of benches. Behind each of the benches was one big and wide board which was made of stone. Each board projected images that they did not understand the meaning of.
The inside of the building was even more majestic. It was breathtaking, with many well-carved statues adorning every arch residing on each side of the church building. The first thing he noticed, however, was a souvenir shop on the left of the enterrence. They walked past the place and continued forward.
A few steps ahead, they reached a small room with an altar as the centerpiece. A few seats occupied the left and right sides of the room in silence. To the right of the altar, the painting of Saint Mary held her gaze. In that picture by Amadeo Perugino, the virgin was standing on what seemed like clouds, with angels and people around her figure. Two of the angels were holding a crown, an intent to place the big jewelry on top of the virgin's head. "il-Madonna ta' Pinu," he said suddenly, in an instance stealing her once unmoving gaze from the painting. She held no response, only silence, as her eyes trailed his figure exiting the room and turning right.
Her steps followed through the path that he had just taken. She was greeted immediately with a sign which read "CONFESSION" and an arrow pointing to the right. He led them into a small hall. The left part of the hallway was adorned with so many framed pictures. They were the ex-voto of Ta' Pinu.
Her eyes were imprisoned by the frames. She did not even realize when he brought his steps to a stop. As a result, she collided face first with his broad shoulder. Her blonde brows wrinkled and she looked up at the man.
He turned around and looked down at her face. "What do you believe in?" The question was thrown with a straight face.
The crease on her brows deepened. "Things that can be proven with empirical data? Why?"
"I simply wanna know what you trust," came his modest response. His body rotated a hundred and eighty degrees. His sturdy back was the only thing facing her confused facade. "I wanna go into the confessional. You can wait or walk around, up to you."
She had never expected him to be the religious type. Nevertheless, she sounded no protest.
o o o
They skipped lunch and went to Azure Window instead. They climbed their ways to the upper part of the cliff. The small number of people accentuated a nice touch, as it made the view of the cliffs and bright sky clear. It was an amazing sight, with the sunlight gently blended in with the yellowish color of the cliffs, albeit the collapsed limestone. And even when the blazing sunray attacked her unprotected eyes, the little waves crashing on the bottom of the cliff soothed her with their music. It would be a perfect day had she eventually agreed to his idea to buy sunglasses before coming here.
"Let's take a pic together."
She turned around to look at the tall man beside her, a hand shielding her eyes. "What?" She squinted and grimaced, hard.
He knew damn well that those beautiful blue eyes were under attack. His green ones, on the other hand, were not, as he had always forced upon himself a small mental note to always accompany his journey-wherever that might be-with sunglasses. He took two seconds to counter the look she was giving with his more relaxed one, a hand in the pocket of his white, pleated shorts. "I said, let's take a picture together," he repeated as he uncovered his eyes and offered her his sunglasses.
She received the black glasses in silence and put them on. When she looked up, he was already standing at the edge of the cliff. She led her steps and reached his side.
He fished out his iPhone from his pants' pocket, opened the camera application, and held out the device above their heads. "On three," he said as he put his free arm on her shoulder. And on three, he snapped exactly three pictures.
She was grinning as they looked at the pictures. They were great pictures. They both had smiled, side by side, head to head. Other than one fact, she was willing to admit that his height and long arm helped a great deal in capturing the breathtaking background of the ocean, sky, and cliff. "Why did you close your eyes?" she finally asked after a while.
"You're wearing my sunglasses," he deadpanned. Bewilderment masked by a straight facade, by something which had to be so obvious. "But, I don't want the sunlight to hurt those beautiful blue eyes, darl'. That would look bad for the pics." He snickered, put his phone back into his pocket, then walked away.
For an instance, and in his sentences, she sensed something gentle. She quickly shoved that feeling deep in the corner of her mind, however, as she thought that gentleness and Seifer fucking Almasy just did not quite make a perfect duo. Her feet made a little run as a mean to catch his large and long steps. "Thanks," she said in between their silence as she approached him. She was handled no response, but it was just enough that the word had reached the man.
They wasted a few minutes in silence, wandering around the stone, taking pictures of the scenery with their phones, just enjoying the view, the people. The silence, nevertheless, soon departed as they set their feet on the edge of the collapsed arch of Azure Window.
"We came too late," she said beside him, looking down at the sea beneath the rocks.
"But I heard that the collapsed stone actually makes a great diving spot." His gazes mirrored hers.
Her head rotated ninety degrees, attention now landed on his face. "You dive?"
"Once in a while." He snapped a picture of the sea and the sky which were spanning in front of his horizon. "My friend died while diving. He was in a poor health condition," he told her suddenly, out of the blue, as the slit of his eyes distantly penetrated into the clear sky.
Her brows raised by a fraction. "Oh, I'm so sorry." And she gasped a little.
His first response was a Gallic shrug. "It's okay. We weren't close and he was just an acquaintance anyway." Still grimacing and squinting hard, he turned to look at her and asked, "Do you dive?"
"Never done that before."
"No? I thought you were real good at swimming." Now, his focus was a hundred percent assembled in her person. Then, slowly, he put his lips next to her left ear, carefully crafting a bridge just a centimeter in length between the two body parts. "You were always in oversized blouses and long skirts at school. All the guys were talking about you when they saw you in that one piece. You remember, in swimming class? Now, I wasn't excluded." His sentence ended with a light chuckle.
"Gross!" She landed a light blow on his chest, which only escalated his chuckle to a laughter.
o o o
They were on a boat when it was almost evening. It was purposely rented to go around the cliffs and enjoy the sea, with a guard as their company. First, they traveled through a dark and short tunnel. It was brief, and as soon as the light grazed them, she was blinded by how blue the ocean actually was. It rendered a deep blue color, much like the one found in a lapis lazuli, if she had to conclude.
Their guard, whose name they had learned was Dean, was navigating the boat to a cave-like spot. He told them that there were corals protected here. After that, for approximately fifteen minutes, their boat journey continued and he told them about how Azure Window had lost its Tieqa tad-Dwerjra to a storm in March 2017. How the Maltese had grieved upon the descendant of the limestone to the bottom of the sea, seeing as it was one of Gozo's popular tourists' attractions. However, he also bore upon them good news that the fallen body of Azure Window would soon get its modern makeover by a Russian architect named Svetozar Andreev.
It was nice, chatting up and getting information from a local. The wind, the serenity of the sea, and the beautiful view of the cliffs made perfect companies for a chit-chat.
Dean was leading the boat through a small tunnel. It was the same first tunnel they had gone through, but now they were going back through it. The two people behind him were silenced by an awe of mother nature. "Are you guys a couple on a honeymoon?" He turned to the said couple and stole their attention.
Seifer was quick to answer, "Yea. Got any recommendation on romantic places?"
Quistis made no response and no significant change in facial expression. She was rolling her eyes inwardly, nonetheless.
"Have you guys been to Ta' Pinu?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, it was gorgeous," Seifer briefed simply.
"Well, if you guys like that place, you might wanna visit The Citadel in Victoria and St. George's Basilica. And if you guys want beaches, you can try Ramla and Hondoq Ir-Rummien. Ta' Frenc is a great restaurant. Oh, and don't forget about Xwejni Salt Pans."
"Thanks, we will look into them."
"Anytime."
Dean's last word became the end of their conversation. Soon, they exited the short tunnel and were immediately greeted with the warm sunlight.
o o o
After the boat ride, Seifer had successfully persuaded Quistis to swim with him. In her mind, however, the jerk had forced her. But he insisted that he had convinced her instead by saying that the waves were tame and just too inviting to be missed. She had protested about having no bathing suit, but he had made quite a valid point that her underwear eventually made little to no difference with a normal pair of bikinis. Her last excuse had been their stuffs, like phone and wallet. He countered it by suggesting that Dean was trustworthy and they could ease their worry about their belongings by entrusting them to the guy. In the end, she had let out a defeated sigh and trailed along with his plans. They had swum through the tunnel and were now in the middle of the ocean, still near the cliffs.
He dived into the ocean and she was just watching him from above, not having the slightest interest to join the man. A few seconds later, he resurfaced. "Can't really see what's below, but I think it might be quite beautiful."
She responded simply by giving a brief shake of head. "This is a pretty pointless activity as we don't have snorkeling equipment nor did we bring an action camera," she retorted, still rejecting his whole swimming idea.
"Goddamnit, you ice queen, stop killing the party, will ya?" He paddled through the water to reach her and planted a strong grip on her wrist. He led her further away from the cliffs, to the spot where the ruins of Azure Window resided.
She sounded no protest, she resisted no more, although for the second time, a sigh escaped her lips.
He stopped right after they were close enough to the ruins. He shifted his body to face her, and just stared a hole into her eyes. He saw her face distorted just a tiny fraction with a frown.
"What?" Confusion radiated from the blue of her eyes.
His hand held out ever so slightly to grab the clip pinning her hair together in one bun, then released its grasp. "You look so much better with your hair down, honestly," he said it so casually. One would detect none of his face muscles had ever moved, only his lips. "I've always noticed how golden your hair is. Actually, the first time I saw you, all I could see was how the sunlight shone through your locks." He continued his act by running his fingers through her released strands.
Her eyes rotated and she removed his hand from her head. "If I didn't know that you are a writer, I would be deeply flattered."
He responded with a light chuckle. "You may say that I'm just flirting with you, but I'm being honest here." When she responded with silence and a flat face, he seized the opportunity to continue, "Let's dive a little and see what's under here."
This time, she followed suit with no protest, because, in all honesty, she was curious what the Azure Window looked like now that it was in ruins. She went under but could not keep up much with his pace as she was no diver herself. He dived some meters, while she could only manage a few. She was not sure what he saw, but she was definitely capable of making out the shape of the crushed stones, albeit blurry. The rest was an endless blue, the color which mirrored her own eyes.
After a few seconds, he swam towards her. He was face to face with her when he intertwined his fingers with hers. One free hand was tracing along her dancing strands of hair. He flashed out a wide grin. Before she could even frown, he had pulled them up towards the surface.
"What did you see?" It was her question when their heads were free from the water.
He looked at her still catching oxygen. That same smile below was persistent above. "A mermaid with golden hair." He let out a laugh, then, "Just stones, you know, and little fishes swimming around the rocks."
"Good diving spot?" She was still out of breath.
He provided the answer with a simple nod. He planted his forehead on hers, instantly eliminating any distance between them. She was appalled by the proximity, but knew better that he meant to help adjusting her ragged breath when his regular breathing, in and out, touched her face. Her shock was now completely subsided, even as he locked her hands with his. And now, their breathings were in rhythm. They rhymed. At this very moment, they synced.
o o o
It was already close to five o'clock when they were done swimming. They went back to the hotel and agreed to have dinner at Ta' Frenc. When they were seated at its herb garden, the time had hit eight past thirteen.
The garden, though beautiful and cozy, lined with an array of bushes and dotted with a few palm trees at the right side, was pretty much vacant with only two tables available. And tonight, they were the only guests in this garden.
A special fragrant, a mixture of mint, basil, and sage fused together with lemon balm, had been the first thing she noticed as they had walked through the stone archway. He, on the other hand, paid no mind to the herbs fragrant as his sense had been numbed by the sweet scent of strawberry rousing from her body.
The garden was dimly lit with only a few lamps resting their little lights on the grass. The glitters on her sleeveless dress seemed to twinkle brighter under the illusion of the lack of lightning.
His eyes had been glued to the front of her dress which bared half of her chest with a V shape.
"Jerk, my eyes are up here." She snorted as she pulled up the not-so-loose spaghetti strap of her black dress. Somehow, in an unspoken way, the back of her mind told her that he knew it was an absent-minded act to cover her tardiness under those green, predatory eyes.
He reached for his wine glass, smirked, and downed a sip of the red liquid. "I'm just admiring how your mini dress seems to make you more beautiful tonight."
She rolled her eyes and flashed a sarcastic smile. Her composure slowly built up.
He simply smiled in response. He fell into a silence then, more or less less than a minute, as he was eyeing her taking a few pictures of the herb garden. "You gonna post them?" His question became the end of the concise tranquility.
She tittered then flashed her camera in front of his face, which resulted immediately in his "What the fuck, Trepe, what's with the flash?". "I'm gonna post this." She flipped her phone towards him to show him his cringing face and closed eyes, much like someone who just tasted lemon for the first time.
"Where, Instagram? Yea, I dare you." He snickered, wider than her previous one. Oh, he was referring to the consequence that her little boyfriend might find out she was dining with another guy, alright.
"That was just a joke. I don't even have any kind of social media."
He took a gander at her face knowingly. "Yea, those things are stupid. I only use them to promote my books." Another sip. "But I do have many dating profiles."
"What, single for too long?"
"I just like fucking around and dislike commitment." Again, another sip. "Besides, I have the look the ladies want." He swung his glass in front of his face and his wide grin coruscated in a playful manner.
Her eyes were scrutinizing him: blond, short hair, brushed back; thin lips and sharp-edged nose were neatly proportioned; his body was sturdy, a build one would call strapping with broad shoulders and height at least above 180 centimeters. She would be sentenced for being a liar if she called him ugly. He was good physically. The only thing evil regarding his external physics was his eyes. They were green, reminding her of those of a wretched dragon's: daring, mischievous, manipulative even. Her mind suddenly tapped her and whispered that she was beginning to frisk too much on the inside.
"Why are you looking at me straight in the eyes with the kind of expression like I just killed your puppy?"
Did he realize what she had been doing?
"Fuckboy." Good thing now her brain was on her side. At least, she had been able to quickly hurl a retort to his question and not stay agape like the one occasion she had in Coffee Break. Even better, he did not seem to realize that she had got lost in his poison. Yes, she regarded the green of his eyes as something toxic.
"Aren't you a little too quick to judge, Little Quisty?" He sank back in his chair and folded his arms. "I like fucking, but I do it with consent and respect."
Albeit the fact that casual shit, as he had phrased it before, was not exactly her cup of tea, she was not an uneducated bimbo when it came to sex. Still, she needed to ascertain a few things. "Elaborate," thus she requested.
"First of all," he began as he leaned forward. His locked arms were now free and on the table. The left one was laying down while the right one stood straight with its elbow, it's little finger protruding. "I'm a say-what-you-want type of man. I don't do mind games, which translate to I say what I'm looking for at the very beginning before any unwanted expectation arises." Now, his right ring finger mirrored the previously jutting pinkie. "Second, especially when it comes to sex, everything is a matter of consent. Even if you agree on a casual fucking with me in the beginning, but when the time comes you refuse to fuck, that will be okay. Third." A pause this time, which was also the time for his middle finger to show up following the preceding present fingers. "Casual shit doesn't need to involve fucking every goddamn time."
His third point brought an increment to her brows position.
"As long as there's some kind of romantic or sexual attraction, what you do doesn't matter, I guess, as long as you don't do shits in a serious relationship, like having to call your casual partner everyday or loving that person until death does you apart." His right arm was joining his left one now. This time, his face beamed with a smirk. "Besides, anybody educated in this area knows that sex isn't only about fucking. Fact and point aside, it will be too fucking boring if it's just about fucking."
He was a fuckboy, alright, a fuckboy with a concept. He did not just go around flinging fancy words. He conceived them. Albeit his attitude, she had to force herself to credit him at least that much.
"So you're saying that what we're doing now can be categorized as something casual?"
"Well, that depends." He reached for his glass and put his lips to its brim. And, before taking a sip, he made sure to deadpan her in the eyes while he enquired, "Do you feel any kind of romantic or sexual attraction towards me?"
She swore to the Mathematical theory that governed this universe that she was putting all her energy into amassing the best are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. "None." Her gaze and voice were deflated of any tone.
"Maybe not yet. I'm pretty confident that I can charm you. But beware, when I know that whatever-floats-your-boat still applies, it takes more than nice hang outs and dinners for me to consider something as a casual shit. I mean, I would very much love it if we can proceed to something more than nice dinner, kissing, or making out-" His chains of words were abruptly dismissed as his eyes caught a sight of a waiter coming towards their table.
"Your pigeon and sea bass, lady and gentleman." The waiter served pigeon to her table and sea bass to his. "Is there any other thing you need before I go?"
He answered with "no, thank you", and she muttered a "thank you" before the waiter excused himself.
"Anyway, back to topic-"
She suddenly cut him short with, "You do realize that if we continue with your casual shit, that will count for me as cheating?"
He did not need a pause to answer her question. "Who cares? We will only have four days, nobody will know. I also know that your relationship now with Mr. Lucky is problematic. I'm not taking care of that for sure, but I'm just offering you a short getaway from that shit. If you continue with my casual shit, we're doing what's beneficial for both of us. I'm not pressuring you into anything. Hanging out and dinner like this are amazing, too."
"Right." Her eyes dodged his, and her lips dragged an abbreviated smile, as her hands busied themselves with the dinner wares for the roasted fowl. "Let's just agree on nice hang outs and dinners for now and enjoy these meals, shall we?"
"Right," he concurred instantly, because, what was the point of arguing further when he had all night and his fish just looked so goddamn mouth watering?
o o o
They concluded their dinner in Ta' Frenc with its hazelnut parfait as the cherry on top. It was his idea, he loved hazelnut, she liked honey. Ta' Frenc's parfait was perfect for the pair. They agreed later on to go to Cafe Jubilee for drinks. It was her idea, he loved alcohol, she wanted to drink. They took a cab. It was a silent ride, he loved some sightseeing in a foreign city like Victoria, she just needed some time to think.
Cafe Jubilee conveyed a vintage vibe. If she was asked, she would say that it was probably the yellowish lights. He, on the other hand, accorded to the idea that it was perhaps the picture frames which barely gave the walls little to no empty space, and do not forget the Maltese antiques. Nevertheless, the combination of the two and a strain of live music felt like a rush of home and comfort.
She requested a table with two sofas facing each other. A pony wall was preserved behind each of the sofas, dissociating their table from another's. When they were seated, a picture behind his head scrounged her attention. It was of a person with brown hair, basked in plain, sapless, red background.
He looked upward and was immediately greeted with the sight of many antiques on top of each of the pony walls: a giant glass bottle, an old briefcase, and a China bowl, were some of the things which were captured briefly by his line of vision. His attention then diverted to the many picture frames on his right.
She followed where his stare had landed. Over the fourteen picture frames, one captivated the blue of her eyes: a black and white, rectangle picture depicting two persons almost touching each other's lips.
"Hello, do you guys want to immediately order or would you like to have the time to see the menu first?"
He was quick to answer, "We would like to take our time, please."
The young woman handed out two menus then took her leave.
"So, you wanna drink?"
She looked at him briefly then nodded.
o o o
She ordered Cosmopolitan and California Cocaine. He did Screaming Orgasm and Sex on the Beach. Cocktails, they were. Or cocktails as he preferred to call them, with the emphasis on the cock. He just needed to make everything sound so dirty and vulgar.
He superintendent without words as she stole his Screaming Orgasm. She dunk the leftover alcohol in one, big gulp.
"You're gonna get drunk faster if you drink like that."
"Duh, I came here to get smashed, not to play fucking monopoly." She put aside the glass and lined it up with the other two empty ones, which were all hers.
"I'm flattered that you actually trust me enough to get drunk around me." He issued a wry smile. "And it's the first time I hear you curse."
"Shut the fuck up, Almasy."
"Twice tonight." He sipped his drink. The sneer refused to depart his lips. "I like Sex on the Beach."
She leered at him. Her mind was weighing down the probability of him declaring that he was fond of the idea of having sex on the beach.
He knew that her mind was scrambled, hence the confirmation, "I do like sex on the beach, tho."
"Gross," she simply commented.
"Have you ever tried it?"
"No."
"What have you tried?"
His previously persistent smirk finally departed when he caught a sight of hers, newly surfacing on her plump lips. Her body inclined toward his, her face waded over the distance on the table, and her whisper-although barely audible-swept through him: "Do you really wanna know?"
Was that a challenge?
"Why, of course." His face turned into a sneer.
"Well then, come here, Almasy." She retreated back into her seat, back abruptly thudding with the red cushion. Her right hand patting the empty space beside her. "I can't say it out loud because it's controversial."
He was obedient this time. Without further protest, he located himself next to her, left arm resting on top of the sofa, just behind her shoulder.
When she fully captivated his interest, she lugged her lips close to his left ear, then, "BDSM."
"You do that with Mr. Lucky?" For the first time, surprise finally found its way to his face.
She was covering her mouth, an attempt to hold back a laugh. "Why so serious?"
"So, no?" One of his brows elevated.
"Joke, joke …." She smiled, then rotated her body to face him. "Have you tried it?"
"Yes."
"D or S?"
"D."
She was drawling out an "hm" for quite a long time, and then, suddenly, "I like dominant guys."
"Well, I can-"
"Preferably outside of bed as well."
He watched her put her head on his arm. He bet all his money that the alcohol was getting into her system and she did not even notice his resting arm. Her smile was beginning to get out of character. It was silly, even for him. But he liked it. He liked this side of her.
"Is this an invitation? Am I allowed?"
Her head disclosed a single nod.
He tipped at her chin with a big thumb. With his face devoid of any muscle activity, he penetrated through the playful blue of her eyes. "Are you really sure this is not the alcohol talking?"
"Silly Seifer, alcohol can't talk." That jolly smile was still indomitable on her lips until she took notice of the level of solemnity he had put in his gaze. That green poison.
"Proof it. Sit straight up and say that you're allowing this."
She was repeatedly trying to bound her mind to the mantra that it was the alcohol meddling with her head when she, without question and that jeer now inanimate, immediately forced her head to leave his arm and straightened her position. It was the alcohol-or maybe the green poison? Perhaps. Alcohol, green poison. Alcohol, green poison. Alcohol, green poison.
"Say it," he demanded.
She parted her lips, about to do something she would probably regret later, but the chant of "alcohol, green poison" was proven to be efficacious in preventing her to do anything wacky. She reached for Sex on the Beach instead and plunged the drink down her dry throat.
o o o
At nineteen to two in the morning, they stepped their feet on Ramla Beach, a bottle of Carte Jaune, which had been previously purchased in Jubilee, in his hand. They were on the east side of the beach's hillside, side by side, hand in hand, standing, taking in the sight of the darkness of the vast sea beyond.
"I barely see shit," she breathed out. And when her voice was drowned by the ocean tide, she repeated, louder this time, "I can't see shit!"
"It's supposed to be gold and red."
"What is?"
"The sand."
Silence.
"And there's a white statue of Our Lady of Hope in the middle of the vast sand."
Another silence.
"Why are we here?"
"For a Sex on the Beach."
"We're here with a bottle of champagne, Almasy, not a cocktail."
"It's cocktail, Trepe."
"Oh, shut the fuck up."
"Cocktail. Cockroach. Cockpit. Peacock. Cockpit. Cock-"
"You're disgusting."
"But hey, wanna try sex on the beach instead?"
"Absolutely-"
"Yes?"
"No."
Third silence.
"When was the last time you fucked someone because you loved them?"
"I don't remember. When was the last time you fucked someone just for fun?"
"Never tried that shit."
"So you and Mr. Lucky have been together for years?"
"Four."
"Don't you wanna try a new dick?"
"Don't you wanna try a new love?"
"Not now. I'm still having too much fun."
"You're gonna bend for the right person. And when the time comes, it doesn't matter whether you want it or not."
More silence.
"Between Fine Lines."
"You said you didn't read my book."
"My friend was crazy about it. She used to repeat some lines for me, they burned my ears."
She barely saw shit, but she could capture the sound of rustling grass beneath, its peace disrupted by an object she assumed was quite dense and heavy. Then, a fickle of skin touch sent waves to the sensors on her hand. Before her brain could tell her what was happening, her whole, left hand had been nabbed by another, bigger hand. The latter then put enough force, adequate for her torso to rotate at least ninety degrees and compelled her to stand face to face with him.
"What if the time is now?"
She could feel the heat, their bodies caving in, and his hot breath.
"What if you're the right person?"
Her memory was swimming back to Jubilee, and it stopped, holding her breath, at: a black and white, rectangle picture depicting two persons almost touching each other's lips. Right now, they were that very picture frame.
Then kiss me, that was the line after What if you're the right person?. She decided to bail out of her part and rifle the wind below for the champagne bottle instead. She knew he had put it down on the ground, among the low grass, she just barely saw shit to find the damn thing. After brief seconds of struggling, a solid object collided with her feet. She cursed when the sound of rushing liquid washed over her ears, "Why the fuck didn't you close the bottle?"
He chuckled when his mind recited the scene where he had first laid his eyes upon her in Gozo. "Why are you so clumsy with alcohol?"