Liquid Dima

Chapter Two: Conflicting thoughts

"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same" - Emily Brontë 'Wuthering Heights'

She threw her head back in defiance, glaring at me as though I was the cause of all her frustration. Every time she was mad, she took it out on me. She would never understand my thoughts, and neither would I hers. What can I say, we are all different. Our looks, desires, our thoughts. But that's beautiful, isn't it?

Benji leans back in his mesh office chair away from his story and stares out of the window for what must be the billionth time in the space of five hours. The sidewalk red maple trees whisper soothingly to one another as the wind sways their branches, reminding Benji of Darla's gentle touch, her soft skin...

Distractions, distractions, distractions.

He blames his keyboard of course, just like any other writer in the making. Whenever a new and unique idea comes to mind, an overwhelming cloud enters his thoughts, blocking his ability to transfer them to his digital page. Today has been a constant loop of ups and downs with the young immortal. Being the stubborn 22-year-old that he is though, he has his excuses for his lack of motivation today.

Darla is the first excuse for his poor work.

She'd left Benji in a confused state of mind ever since she got home from work yesterday. She'd been acting like a kid who had had too much Halloween candy, switching her moods from positive to downright miserable faster than one could say Jack Robinson. On top of this, Benji hadn't been able to get his head around her strange behaviour this morning, so on edge, so jumpy and anxious had she been to get to work.

Wandering over to the double bed in their apartment, Benji picks up his girlfriend's abandoned cropped hoodie and brings it to his nose. Inhaling deeply, he staggers forward, lost in the floral aroma of his beloved girlfriend. Darla is everything to Benji. She's the fuel to his fire. The star in his night sky. Without her love and support Benji knows he wouldn't be dedicating hours to his passion alongside his creative writing degree. No, without her he'd still be cooped up in his parents' house, eating his way through depression and advancing in his father's set business career for him as slowly as an old aged mortal. He owes her everything. This thought guides Benji to his desk once again, knowing that the only way he can pay her back is if his writing succeeds.

'Why now?' he asks himself again. 'Why does this keep happening to me? I've just come out of a writer's block, I shouldn't be heading back in the same direction so soon!'

Wincing as he clumsily grazes his recently broken ribs against the side of the desk, he settles back in his chair once again and starts typing.

Benji is not what everyone would call a stereotypical male writer. He isn't nerdy looking, nor does he spend his writing hours hunched behind coffee shop tables, sipping brewed coffee with his glasses halfway down his nose acting like he's the next big hit film writer of the century.

No.

He is known for looking like a God. Not the type you see in churches and religious texts, but the type you find in hot romance novels. The type that makes young girls waste hours of their days dreaming of a fictional romance together. The type that glues himself to your heart, only able to get away by breaking the vital organ into a million pieces, leaving you wondering for the rest of your life what you did wrong and what made you think you deserved him in the first place.

Darla is attracted to his masculine appearance as much as the next girl; mortal or immortal. With brown eyes the colour of chocolate, they melt like lava around Darla, pooling into huge puddles of lust filled heat when staring into her eyes. His broad shoulders have the ability to make envious on-lookers debate whether he is the son of Hercules, and his rough, golden skin envelope his abs and built form in a way that makes his girlfriend drool fountains. From white glistening teeth to plump lips to his full 6'7 feet height, Benji Oleta is by far the most handsome immortal male around. Many times he has been told he gets his looks from his father, yet although they are similar in that aspect, Mike's way of thinking is as different from Benji's as painting is from mathematics.