Wildfire

(06)

Kenneth Deora

Heaven. That's where I had been.

It had been two days since the gala incident and I hadn't seen or heard from Mariana since.

But I kissed her and she kissed me back. It wasn't my first kiss but somehow it was different from all of them.

It was like fear but comfortable. Like how you'd rather be abandoned on a deserted Island rather than in the middle of the ocean.

In the unnavigable life she seemed like the destination.

Her cherry and smoke still lingered on my breath and God I'd give up oxygen to never get rid of it again.

I walked into my office ignoring the murmurs behind me. God I hated having to lie.

I hated lies. Everything that wasn't said as it was. Except one. Mariana. I knew she's not what she shows.

I wanted to find out what she was. Mariana was an enigma and her meaning changed every time I saw her.

Sometimes she was the personification of the devil herself. Terrifying. Sometimes she was strength. Sometimes she was power. She was beauty. In her own twisted way, she was love. And in every single way she was going to be mine.

If I had to take a bullet every time we saw each other then so be it. I'd take a million bullets with a smile if she was holding the gun.

She was going to be mine. And if that meant I'd have to live in the fear of being killed every second of my life I'd let her kill me.

She was a wildfire and right now she was burning her name inside my heart and soul.

But the worst part was having her name on me was, in some way, peaceful. I didn't notice when my pen stopped signing papers and instead started scribbling on my wrist.

Fire.

I started calling her wildfire when she started making me feel warm.
A man robbed of warmth will set himself on fire to melt his heart and Mariana was the kind of fire that would not only melt my heart but rip it out and turn it to ashes as well.

Embarrassingly enough, the thought of her nails on my chest felt better than they should have. Get a grip Kenneth. All you want to grip is her. I sighed. I was sure that's the kind of people she kills.

These past two days I tried to find out about Mariana as much as I could. All I found out was she had concerning friends; actually just one, and an even more concerning affection for hyenas.

A raging hatred for social events and a degree. I was still to find out what degree she had.

There was almost nothing about her childhood but mafias kept their children private I guess. All I knew was that she was born and raised in Italy but a blind and deaf person could tell that.

I opened my drawer taking out the black lighter she gave me and lit my cigarette.

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Mariana Montanari

I exhaled the smoke and tossed the remains of the cigarette I was smoking.

The cheap bar music got on every nerve I had.

I needed to drink my week off and nothing screams sad and depressed like drinking in a cheap bar wearing designer.

The two major events of the week: killing a man and kissing a man. Great. What was this? High school? Who killed people in high school? You would.

I had felt so safe after killing my dad but soon realised it wasn't gonna help. Another panic attack, another hallucination, rinse, repeat. I almost laughed at the helplessness.

He wasn't gone and maybe he'll never be. I tapped my heels on the ground. I had started wearing heels just to make Camila mad.

She had always insisted on me being shorter than men. Who the fuck honestly cared and most of them were shorter than me without heels.

If I was well fed as a child they'd have stood no chance. I shot whiskey trying to get my mind off my childhood.

The second major event was my kiss.

I kissed Kenneth. Sue me okay. You didn't even believe in law. It was the stress. Yeah, kissing people in stress was so normal. So what? I kissed Kenneth Deora.

You had kissed a lot of people. No. A lot of people had kissed me. But I kissed Kenneth Deora. Oh... OH...

I kissed Kenneth Deora.
I kissed someone.
I had my first kiss.

I shot a few more whiskeys.

None of them made me forget the smell of wood and mint. The way his eyes widened when he thought I was gonna kill him.

I remembered the taste of his lips. How tenderly they tasted my lower lip and encapsulated me in his own little world where there was nothing but him and I. Nothing except his lips against mine, his eyes on mine. And his hands in mine.

I remembered the lump in his throat moving when he swallowed in fear and God I should've kissed it. Did it taste as sweet as it looked?

Mariana you were really on a DRY dry spell. It was probably the whiskey.

Still. I'm so glad no one can hear you. That is so mean. You're the one who couldn't control yourself from thinking about him. Now suffer.

I also remembered the fear that ran through me when he touched me. The way I physically forced my body to not back away.

I closed my eyes before downing a few more glasses. I was officially drunk.

Probably high too because I hadn't noticed the bar getting empty. I got up to leave when I saw a familiar face.

Broad shoulders, strong jaw, deep eyes and those goddamned curls. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want my fingers pulling on them. He wasn't close enough but I could already smell the intoxicating wood and mint.

Kenneth stared at me. Expressionless. His eyes focused on mine and his hands in his pocket.

I stared back with the same intensity not knowing why and what he was doing here.

This wasn't a place you'd expect a corporate brat to be in. He was probably too spoiled to even look at this place.

He walked towards me "Mariana, you're drunk."

No shit.

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