Sunflower

5 - Bittersweet

Micah

Her lips are softer than the bright flower petals that slip between each of my fingers as she kisses my skin. Her eyes are as green as the fuzzy leaves which tickle the tips of my toes, almost begging me to let loose a smile or laugh.

The sun shines bright, but never as bright as the way her hair does underneath this blanket of light.

Cath, take me away.

She giggles as I pull her closer into my embrace.

"We shouldn't be here," I whisper to her, my lips merely centimeters from her earlobe. I feel the warmth radiating off of her, wrapping around me in ways that are so unwanted, but needed at the same time.

"I know," she replies. Her smile indicates how much she doesn't care if we are caught, and that's what I've always loved about her.

Her kiss, her skin, her eyes, her everything; it's all an addiction that I can't escape. I don't want to, I never want to. I don't want to leave this meadow, I don't want to leave the little world she's created for me.

We lay on the floor of this meadow, the sunflowers shielding us from the baby blue sky, the scolding sun that could burn our delicate skin at any moment. My arms wrap around her, her face snuggles into my neck. Her lips, those sweet, soft lips, press into my neck so gently, so subtly, but I can hear her screaming for me.

She aches for me.

I breathe in deeply, the smell of nectar filling my nose.

"I love you."

Those three words have left my mouth before, but it seems so different now. It seems revolutionary, like the first time we exchanged those words is happening all over again.

The love, the security, the excitement of knowing this is real twists into me, like thorns entangled with my veins. It hurts to go back, but it's a pain I crave, it's a pain I was never used to, despite being used to so many others.

Like the hurt of rejection, the hurt of loneliness, I've always been accustomed to.

But I will never be used to the hurt of love.

I will never get used to these moments, these places she creates for me; the way time completely freezes when I find myself with her.

And I will never get used to how amazing her touch is, but how wrong it feels, how it feels as if spiders are crawling along my skin, mistaking me for their own sticky web. It feels like pulpy lemonade trickling down my throat. It has a taste so bitter yet so delightful, it's bittersweet. It burns my throat but fills my stomach, causing the constant growling of my vicious hunger to fade away.

It will return again, when it finds that I haven't had enough.

She hoists herself on top of me, my torso fitting in between her thighs almost too perfectly.

With desire flaring in her eyes, she rips my t-shirt off. It flies over my head and is gone in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, there is a new girl staring at me. She's not as pure, not as innocent. She craves things I cannot give her, and she doesn't want to take no for an answer.

I don't like it.

As the palm of her hands press into my chest, they slide down my stomach and reach the belt wrapped tightly around my waste. Her fingers creep dangerously for the buckle.

I grab her hand gently, and she looks at me, the innocence that once glistened in her green pupils gone. She's curious. She's confused as to why I've stopped her from going to the next level for so long.

"I'm not ready for that." I say, our eyes locked.

And with that, she rolls off of me. I can no longer feel her warm skin, her soft lips, her addicting touch. I can no longer see her beautiful eyes, her blonde, curly hair, her porcelain skin. I see nothing but the bright blue of the sky and neon yellow of the sunflowers. I see nothing but the colors that have somehow become too nauseating to look at. Remorse cripples me.

I know what I want, but I'm also aware of her curiosities, her longing.

Maybe I shouldn't have stopped her.

The memories of a not-so-faded-past haunt me as I think. Allowing someone to take advantage of me never helped me in any way, even if it wasn't in this form. I was right to say no, I just have to keep telling myself that.

Still, it's hard to see her so damaged by the fact that I don't want to sleep with her.

She could care less wether we have sex or not.

What bothers her is the fact that she obviously did something wrong for me to be so resilient.

But she doesn't know so many things, and I hope I can keep it that way. These secrets are mine to keep. They're the only things that make me special, interesting. Secrets keep people guessing, they make people wonder about the mysterious guy who is too quiet and always by himself. Even if they will never know what I hide, it's still nice to know people care about you enough to be mystified by you.

A few minutes pass and Cath is still laying beside me, but the mood has changed. She isn't smiling, the shine that usually follows her has faded slightly. In an attempt to trigger a even just a small grin, I reach for her hand and tie our fingers together. Something tugs at her lips, but it's not quite there.

I ask her what's wrong.

She waits a few long, silent seconds before replying.

"Is there something wrong with me?" She asks.

I sit up, startled by such a peculiar question. Of course there's nothing wrong with her, and she knows that. Cath isn't the type to doubt herself. Confidence is a trait she just doesn't lack.

"Of course not, why would you ask that?"

She looks at me, the thoughts in her head written across her face.

"You're so closed off, Micah. It's like, whenever I think I'm finally seeing inside you, your curtains close or the door is slammed in my face again."

I'm sorry, I want to say.

At that moment, all the secrets I've held in start to bang at my closed door, desperation soaking each like a sponge. I don't want her to feel as if she's doing something wrong, but at the same time, I'm not ready to let my vulnerabilities shine through yet.

I don't say anything to her, so instead, we lie apart in the sunflower patch silently.

Loneliness catches me in its inevitable trap all over again.

~ shi