Life Match

Day Thirteen

Finally alone, I lay in bed, watching TV. For some reason, Riah seemed to have the largest expanse of forbidden artifacts from before the Life Accords. Television now was limited to mostly news and history shows with the occasional sitcom. But the shows and movies Riah had left me from before were full of sexual content and promiscuity and foul language. But everything was oh so good about it. I watch about ten episodes of one romance show,  nearly finishing the series before Riah knocks, and then enters the apartment.

"Hello, Love," he kisses me, "Have you eaten?"

He looks at the TV and smirks, "Have you been in here all day?"

"No," I pause the program, "Just since after school. I saw your brother today by the way. We had lunch."

"Okay," he shrugs off his blazer and tosses it over the chair in the corner before unbuttoning his shirt and pants, "Do you mind if I cook dinner? I haven't catered to you enough I feel."

"Mmhm," I'm immediately entranced in this odd strip tease, "Go for it."

Riah notices me watching him and his lime colored eyes turning a shade darker, "You'll have to stop looking at me like that Love if you want to eat anytime soon."

I turn away from him and he pulls on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a wife beater before heading out to get started cooking whatever it is he has planned. With him gone, I wrap up in his work shirt, inhaling his natural scent of musk and  his cologne. I finish the rest of the season like that, wrapped in his fragrance.

"Love! Dinner!" he calls from the kitchen and I ditch the shirt as not to look fifty shades of creepy.

We sit down to eat a meal of salad, bruschetta, and pasta, the meal lit by candle light.

"Riah, isn't it kind of weird you're eating a candle light dinner in pjs?"

He shrugs, "Love, I am the son of one of the most powerful men on earth. I'm in a suit all day. If I wanted to cook for the love of my life ass naked and still sit down to a candle lit dinner--- then I'd do it."

"Fair enough," I pause to eat another few spirals of pasta. The love of my life..., "Riah, do you ever think about yourself with other women?"

"Is this about the party because I swear---?"

"No, Riah this is about just in general. If you had to pick someone other than me-- Do you know who you'd pick?"

"You're asking if I have a plan B?" he clarifies the question and I nod. "Love, plan B's are for the losers who aren't standing on a solid plan A. So, Pretty Girl, are you trying to tell me you're not my solid plan A anymore?"

I can tell from the use of the nickname I don't like that I'm treading very thin ice, "That's not it at all. I love you. Forget I mentioned it."

He gives me a hard stare, like he's trying to physically pry off my skull and see into my brain. I avoid his eye contact, suddenly extremely interested in the contents of my plate. When dinner is finished Riah and I make quiet work of putting up the dishes, the light hearted mood from earlier having turned heavy.

As we finish and walk to the bed room I stop, "Riah, you know I didn't mean it. I don't want you to have a plan B."

"I know, Love," He reaches for me, "Come on."

"You aren't mad?" I question again. I hate that I sound like a child. That he makes me sound like a child.

"No, Love," he stretches his arms out again and I walk towards him, allowing him to take my hand. He pulls me close, bending to kiss me, his lips both somehow rough and gentle against mine.

"Are you going to be rough?" I question. He pulls away from me, "Love, are you going to let me make love to you or are you going to keep asking questions? It's like the first time all over again."

"I'm sorry it's just I've already told you I don't want you touching me when you're upset," Riah grips the back of my thighs and picks me up, "Baby I'm not angry. I've told you that."

He carries me to our bed, laying me down gently on it before making quick work of removing my clothes. He enters me swiftly, rushing, not taking the usual time he normally does, but still making sure I climax as well. By the time it's over I'm feeling something a kin to used, but Riah is fast asleep by the time I decide to mention anything to him.

***

In the morning Riah is gone as usual. I change into plain street clothes today, shoving my uniform in my back pack and sneaking out the back of the apartments to avoid having to interact with Maurice. I call a taxi, taking it as far as I can to the diner from yesterday, then walking the portion I can't ride.

"Hey," I happen to arrive at the exact same moment as Rio, "You're back? Shouldn't you be in classes?"

"I feel like I never repaid you for saving me that night of the party," I say, a bit breathless from my lenghty walk.

"You don't owe me anything, darling," he has an other worldly accent that I can't quite place, like he speaks more than one language. He probably does.

"I feel bad though," I persist, "Are you doing anything tonight? I'll cook you dinner?"

"Are you a good cook?" he smirks.

"I'm an enthusiastic cook," I dodge the question.

"Okay, I'll come by tonight maybe eightish? That sound good?"

"Yes!" I nod excitedly, "So are you gonna take my order now or what?"