She sat and watched him. Just glances; furtive but casual. And he watched her. And then he spoke to her. And she knew she'd stopped breathing, but she smiled and laughed anyway as he walked away.
And later, with her hair down and messy around her face, brow knit together in concentration, she glanced up and caught him staring, smiling, flushed. Ducking her head, she only looked up at the brush of his hand as she walked away.
The line pulled taught keeping them bound apart, pulling her heart just beneath the surface of her skin and lighting her up; making him laugh out loud at nothing at all.
She fought day after day to keep her thoughts from searching for him, and every time the bell would ring, he'd catch his breath in optimistic anticipation, expecting to see her. He knew the exact day she'd be back, precise minute even, but still he silently hoped while she counted the days until they'd meet again, every rememberance bringing him right to her, achingly to her.
The end of eternity, seven days later. Same stolen glances, same juvenile flirtations. Waiting, distracted, he catches her alone, backing her over, bending to help her up. His hand on her waist, her heart in her throat, leaving her dumb, stealing her breath. Leaning back into his chest, she turns, embarrassed, eyes down. Grabbing her hand, he stops her and she looks up, frozen and locked and twisted in the dark depths that swallow her whole. She has no means of finding words. She doesn't know what to do, doesn't want to do anything, terrified she must do something.
Then suddenly he's there to stop the drowning rush, his breath on her shoulder, ducking his head, his lips graze her skin and she shivers. He stumbles an excuse, a makeshift apology and the demure vixen shows her face, sending his heart into his stomach.
Still holding on, he reaches and shuts the door, his eyes linked with hers, and his hand reaches for her face, searching, scanning, drinking it all in. Leaning down, he stops and stares, smiling as she smiles, he crooks his neck beside her cheek, whispering, "hello", swelling at her throaty reply.
She's laughing, whispering words he can't remember; he doesn't know their meaning, just the melody they play in his ears. He's home. They stand, tucked into one another, neither wanting to move.
She knows she can't stay, resigns herself to leaving even as his lips find hers. And then she's gone, empty of resolve and strength, melted. She wants this and this alone, his need for her is singular and encapsulating, and they lose their hold and he is melting too.
A quiet thundering wakes them from their lover's dreamy slumber, intruding and harsh in its reverent warning.
Yearning and electric, they feign passing conversation, polite and contrived, and then, as always, they walk way.
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