Wicked Games

Chapter 1: Indulgence

There's a moment where hope and will blur between the thin veil of each other, the lust for better overcompensates the power for greed. In this world, there isn't room for error, rather yet life doesn't see mistakes as regret, but naivety. You can't be naïve in this lifestyle; it takes one mistake for everything to turn from good to bad. No one wants to clean up a mistake, no one wants more blood on their hands than they can handle.

-

She wore crimson, unknowingly color of the river of the dead. He supposes that's what caught his attention, but if he recalled that very moment, he would say it was her skin - no no no her hair, no- her eyes. Yes, his mind hissed, they pierced straight into his soul, chocolate hazelnut swirls behind a flutter of eyelashes that made his inside flips, summersaults. He was entranced as her hair bounced slightly, he imagined if she felt as soft as she looked.

He licked his  bottom lip  as though he spent the last few years in the sandy desert instead of behind a bottle. Lord forgive him. He thought then, his few years as a child hearing the story of Jesus, how he was tempted in the desert for 40 days. He began a swear, it rolled off his tongue like a prayer.

He wouldn't last a day; he would succumb to this generous goddess if ever presented in his favor. For he felt even a god would fail in submission just to glimpse the sight of her. He wasn't religious but he felt like praying, one that shook the sky and cradled her delicate form next to his.

She sat down, pretty much all he could do was stare at her. He felt frozen, and he mentally cursed himself to get it together.

"Welcome everyone let's find our seats"

He tried to sneak a glance as he shuffled papers at his standing desk. She sat at the back, far from everyone. He frowned at that but maybe it was a good thing. He sighed, trying to find his footing for starting his presentation, for the first day of the seminar.

He was not someone that thought having a hobby would be beneficial for life, but for him, his hobby transformed his way of thinking.

People say "do what you love, and it will come back to you" he's a key witness to transformation, he stands a podium of battle and fight and other trivialities that plague one's existence.

This hobby, teaching, being a professor, has indeed proven that his other career was lacking something. And that is not saying he didn't know his other profession wasn't the way it is, because he does, he knows. He steals another glance at the back, his neck heating as if he was lounging in the hot sun.

Burn me, he thought looking at her skin, her nose... he took in a deep breath.

The time passes, quickly, more than he had hoped. He cut class short, relieving him short of a breath he didn't know he inhaled. He watched as she stood up, her skin against red; he promised himself not to memorize it, memorize the way the fabric slid up her thighs when she rose. She looked like the moon, he wanted her to bathe him in her light. He tried to watch her leave, her bag and bounce floating with her.

If he closed his eyes slowly, for a minute, he thought to have dreamt her.

-         

"You said you'd make dinner tonightttt" The slow whine pulled her out of a trance from stirring her hot chocolate. She adjusted the phone slightly on her shoulder between her ear, laughing slightly.

"If I recall correctly, I bought pizza, and I baked you a bunch of sweets last night. So, therefore, it is your turn"

She hummed against the lid of the drink, the steam wafting up towards her lips, its heat greeting her skin as she parts her lips slowly. Hot chocolate was her favorite, over coffee any day. She didn't take well with caffeine, it made her too anxious, she was grateful for chocolate instead.

Her best friend/ roommate groaned into the phone, her peace disturbed on a good Tuesday afternoon. "Okay how about a deal? I order Chinese and we rock paper scissors for the following week?" She pondered for a minute, she was craving Chinese and she had class all week so a free meal today wouldn't hurt.

"Deal!" she laughed as she heard her friend scramble around, searching for her wallet no doubt. "Okay perfect Anna, I'll see you at home" her roommate responded, clearly still tangled in bed.

The two ended the call, as she walked towards the end of campus. The weather was slightly chilly, she loved the trees at this time. Everything died... its life in a frozen state of dormancy, begging to be thawed. She checked her time, grimacing and hoping the bus is still at its spot. She knew the risk for grabbing the warm ambrosia was missing the last bus home, but she will be damned if she didn't get a cup before stepping out into the cold.

Walking the last stretch she noticed the bus stop empty, wondering if it was just late. She notices that aren't many students around, which pretty much sums up her questions.

Fuck, she mutters sipping her now really guilty cup of hot chocolate.

Might as well go back inside, I can call an uber or something...

She hesitates, to go back into the main building and ends up going back to her major's building across the street. Tightening her jacket around her she walks over the soggy branches and murky green and black leaves, making it to the parking lot safely.

Her grip tightens on the cup, its heat providing some warmth to her frostbitten fingers, almost like a sting. She almost made it to the end of the lot when she ran into something, - rather someone as her cup spills on the pair.

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okay okay yess this is short but how do you guys like the writing style? Also introduction to how each character is and what he sees about his beauty. The next few chapters will be different, in different PoV this is really an introduction from a writers point :)

the second chapter is a lot longer beauties, thanks for reading!

k