Toxic

Toxic: Chapter #70 | What's in a Name?

Zach's Past

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⚠️ Warning: ⚠️

This chapter contains discussions of past suicide attempt, guilt, fear, mentions of past self-harm and more. Please take care!!

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Giana would come and watch practices as often as possible, just like she promised she would. So, it only seemed right for me to go see her at work a few times. After all, I only had practices on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Unless I was studying, I had the time.

The first time I went to see her was to be a surprise since I hadn't told her ahead of time that I would be there. When I got there, Mrs. Douglas greeted me with a smile and a nod. I went over to the desk and kept my voice down as I asked, "Which aisle?"

Subtly, she gestured to the second floor. "She's shelving up there."

I grinned. "Perfect. Thank you."

Mrs. Douglas nodded, turning back to her work and I then headed not upstairs to where she was but to the aisle where we had met almost two years ago. I knew that she would still go to that spot sometimes during her shifts. I looked at the books, running my fingers along the copies of Romeo & Juliet that I had looked at then. It was so crazy sometimes to think that it hadn't been more than a little over a year ago that I met her. I lost myself in the memory of our first meeting and that meant that I didn't notice her coming until she was only one aisle over from me.

This time, I was able to do the scene the way that I wanted to since she was now my wife. I leaned against the shelf and waited patiently until she came around to the aisle, I was in. When she did, she saw me and tilted her head, a soft and pleased smile taking over her face. "Hey you. I didn't know you were coming."

As always, when her face was adorned with a beautiful smile, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I took her hands in mine and sighed softly. "I fear I've defiled your hands, which are like a holy shrine to me, by touching them with my own unworthy hands. But I have an agreeable way to make it up to you. My lips are ready to smooth over that rough touch with a tender kiss, like two devoted pilgrims before a holy place."

Immediately, Giana knew exactly what was happening and held my hands, her own voice taking on a softer tone and volume. "Good worshiper, you're too harsh on your own hand, as it shows a perfectly polite devotion by holding mine. After all, pilgrims touch the hands of saints, and the hands kiss when their palms are brought together."

Without an ounce of hesitation, I went fully into the character. "Yes, but don't the saints and the worshipers have lips, too?"

She glanced around us, and then found my eyes again. "Yes, pilgrim, lips that they should use for prayer."

I leaned closer, the two of us sharing the air, sweetened by the taste of each other's breaths. "Well then, dear saint, let our lips do what our hands are doing. They're praying for something after all, a kiss, so their faith doesn't turn into despair."

Mirroring me, she leaned closer and continued. "Saints don't act first, although they may respond to prayers."

My lips hovered a bare inch away from hers as I spoke. "Then don't move while I get my prayers answered." I kissed her passionately, cupping her jaw with one hand yet didn't let go of her hand when I did so. I relished in our kiss before pulling back and speaking once more, my voice hushed, meant only for the two of us to hear. "Now all the sin has been purged from my lips thanks to yours."

She inhaled sharply and met my gaze. "Then that sin has passed from your lips to mine."

I let out a gasp and searched her face. "A sin from my lips? Oh, what a sweetly suggested trespass! Give it back to me." Once more, I leaned in and kissed her, this time slower.