TIME AFTER TIME

decem.

TEN:

"Love and Peace"

SALEM.

Dinner with my Vision. If it wasn't so reckless, it'd be exciting. But I suppose in this instance it was both. Tempting fate is what it felt like. I had only just peered at the face of my Vision haunting me for months and now I would be seeing him three times in one week. Once at Romeo's show. Then again at the art show where we spoke for hours until there was no wine left. I was worried we would run out of things to talk about, but when his watch beeped at eleven pm, he had to excuse himself. I was shocked three hours had passed so quickly.

If I hadn't known any better, I'd think I was altering reality again.

Tonight before I left, I saw a vision of Blake in a flower shop deciding on a bouquet. He would choose tiger lilies. It was an interesting choice, but I tried not to be so depressed over fate which lacked surprises. On my bike ride to Monet's on that lovely Friday evening, I listened to "Love and Peace" by Quincy Jones.

I wasn't sure if the title was encouraging me or warning me, but regardless I played the song three more times and hummed along. After I locked my bike and walked down the short block to the restaurant, I stopped once I smelled a burning joint. At the source of the smell was my Vision. Leaning against the dark alley's wall, head low with blood shot eyes, lost in thought, joint in one hand a bouquet of roses in the other. Roses, not tiger lilies. I relish in the feeling of being surprised. The image of him seers in my mind and I desperately want to paint this image. I allowed myself another breath, soaking in the moment.

"Blake," I called out, pausing from walking towards the restaurant, slowly slipping my headphones off my head. He looked up, eyes brightening when he saw me. Tonight his curls were pulled back out of his eyes, minus the gorgeous dark curl that fell into his eyes. He wore a navy blue blazer with slacks to match. His button down was white and I couldn't stop staring at those three top buttons exposing his chest.

He flicked the finished joint away, grinning as he approached. "Hi," it seemed like he caught himself before saying a different name before he sighed, "Salem."

I nod towards the joint he flicked, "You really do smoke too much, don't you?" When I asked him what vices he had at the party he mentioned smoking too much weed.

"Keeps the demons at bay," he shrugged, making me laugh. I notice the way his stare lingered but I reminded myself my twisted humor would not translate well. I couldn't remember the last time I spent so much time around a human. It was obvious that I would need to adjust.

He gives me the flowers as we walk together, practically shoving them into my chest. After I thanked him and inhaled their rich scent, I looked at his fidgeting hands. They either tapped his leg, flicked the curl from his eyes (which ultimately fell right back in place) or played with his watch. Finally, as we approached the restuaraunt, I gave in. "Blake, do I make you..," he watched my expression as I searched for the right word, "Nervous?"

His eyes widen and stay glued me, laughing as he nodded, "Yes, Salem. You make me nervous." Not only did I make Blake speechless, but I made him nervous, too. That realization put a smile on my face. I had never made anyone speechless or nervous.

The restaurant has low lighting, and is at half capacity. It smells like cigarette smoke and grilled food. There is a light jazz station playing which can hardly be heard over the growing conversation in the room. The floor of the restaurant is a dark wood, the walls were wood as well except for the far East wall which was made of glass. I stare at my reflection and see that I'm flushed. The host looks us over, grinning at us lightly before she tells us to follow. When I hear Blake chuckle I ask, "What's so funny?"