5. And what of the heart?

“I’d love to see you in the moonlight with your head thrown back, and your body on fire.”

–  Petra, When Night Is Falling

The sheets twist around my feet as I turn onto my back. I feel the comforter brush my breast and goosebumps creep onto my skin. He turns on his side to face me, starts tracing my left nipple with his finger.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

I roll my eyes and laugh.

“No! Don’t do that. I’m serious.”

His eyes are hazy, “It almost hurts to look at you. Like the fuckin’ sun.”

I can’t help but smile, despite my discomfort from compliments.

I sprawl onto him, my breasts pressing into his chest.

A long hard kiss. I move to straddle him.

The covers fall away from me, and with the blinds wide open, he stares at me wide-eyed.

I imagine the sunlight showing my imperfections: the stretchmarks on my thighs, the scars on my knees, the veins sprawling from my hipbones, like blue rivers streaming endlessly under my skin.

He places his hands firmly on my hips. His eyes flick toward the window.

“But the neighbors might see.”

“Good for them.”

His thumb pushes under the band of my purple lace thong, where it slightly traces my hipbone.

“I want to look at you, just like this, until the end of time.”

I reach my hand under the covers, place it over his boxers.

I don’t hear him gasp, but I feel it.


I squeeze gently, and he reaches toward the nightstand for his phone.

He points it at me, and I instinctively wrap my arms around my chest.

Flash. He laughs, heartily, like a God.

The light from the blinds fills the room with pink and he places his hand under the lace, and I let go, like a flower blooming in the Spring. The flash shutters again and he smiles, teeth like a wolf.

“This is the one.”

My blood is hot and he flips me onto my back, towering over me.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”



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