The Alliances We Make (Twisted Thoughts)

More Issues Than Vogue

Without even trying, we became 'official'. I don't have any idea if that really means anything. Why do people seek to place labels and categorize things? Why can't fun be fun? Does it really have to mean anything, or go anywhere? It was like boiling an egg. Keep at it long enough, it'll crack and split. He was different, insecure and fresh. Entertaining. Curious. Good in the bedroom, malleable and eager. To be honest, he's taken it a little too much to heart. Like he was sweet and all, but did I really need a 'boyfriend'? He was more like some secret forbidden fruit I had to hide from my parents. It was fun, really fun. When I was bored, I'd let him take me to 'our' favourite places. He could pay for our dates, like my food and movie tickets. More luck me, it saved me from any irregular spending to my account that my parents could pickup on. I was just out with friends, or staying at the library late to study. He was my own little secret, why make it open and 'official' and ruin everything? It didn't need to be complicated. The best games are the easiest. – M x

Alchemy

Late. He was always late. After twenty minutes passed, I decided to order for the both of us, I knew Michael long enough to know his stomach. Turning to my jacket pocket, which I had draped on the chair, I quickly checked the time before putting my phone away again. No messages, no calls. Sighing, my arms crossed across my chest a moment. I signaled a waiter, making the excuse of my boyfriend running late, to continue serving their wonderful wine and ordered the caramelized pineapple with coconut pain perdu, the boeuf bourguignon, lemon ricotta sponge fingers with strawberries, and the zucchini patties with the side of chargrilled trout with lemon and potato salad.

We could just share the food between us, I hadn't eaten since eleven-thirty this morning, and that was just a small soup, but my fast metabolism always kept me going. Always active and on the move as well. Work is always chaotic; sewing, cutting fabric, cutting patterns, draping, and then computer work; CAD drawing, trade sketches, doing the spec sheets, writing the reports. The fashion industry never slept, and arguable neither did me most of the time. I do suppose that works well though, I loved hitting it at the gym. I always got a kick waking up to do my forty minutes of cardio and winding down with twenty minutes of yoga at night. Plus, I had my mother's metabolic rate.

Getting sick of the amount of straight, white men staring at me, and even worse, one or two men old enough to be my grandfather, it was almost like the power of my will brought a one Mr. Michael Debulter finally through that door. My boyfriend of five years lit up like the brightest light bulb when he saw me. He looked divine in his navy two piece, his white shirt was tieless and open at the neck. The autumn sun made him deeply tanned and sexy. That brilliant, gleaming white smile made me grin with his radiance of joy. "Kitten, I'm so sorry I'm late." He murmured as he leaned down to kiss me, his clipped British accent floating in the air like speckles of light. "Oh, kitten, that dress looks good on you, it makes you look slim!" His dark, slicked back hair was shiny and damp. When did he have a shower? In fact, those weren't the clothes he left the house with. Did he go somewhere and change? "I brought you flowers. They're red, your favourite colour." He bend down again to kiss me. His soft lips so warm and smooth against mine, his jaw freshly shaved. When did he shave? "The wine tastes delicious." There was that smirk I loved so much, I narrowed my eyes playfully as he winked. My brain immediately screaming; But he knows you hate flowers! before quickly shutting up in silent annoyance. You can say things a million times, that doesn't mean someone will take the hint. It is wrong of me to be ungrateful.

A light trigger lit in my mind, then a sudden rush of irritation and quite frankly fury followed. Red? My favourite colour was red? My favourite colour was green. When have I ever mentioned that I had a sudden love for red? I mean I wore red, I worked with red, but I wouldn't say it's in anyway my favourite. Plus, even if he missed me mentioning in the past that I loved green, he'd know it because of my mother. My mother had made a solid point and oath for life that whatever she's wearing, wherever she's going she would wear something green for me, purple for Florence, pink for my late grandmother, and orange for her and my brother.