Strangely Familiar by Scott Ruby

Author:Scott, Ruby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

Jude

The soft sensation of Mariana’s lips against my own is everything. It’s as though she’s gathered everything I’ve ever wanted, hoped, dreamt, desired, to give me this one brief interlude in the chaos of life. My life. Our lives.

I squeeze my eyes shut, holding back tears, holding back the inevitable tide of change. Tomorrow isn’t here yet and I’m damned if I’ll waste what is here, in front of me, for something which is yet to exist.

Each touch is so tender. As if we make our bubble of suspension from the finest, sheerest glass. A cocoon which keeps us safe from a world that can never see us for who we are; it shields us from the randomness of perception, masquerading as truth. A world where the only truth is that you can never believe what you see.

But here, and now, as I open my eyes and look deep into the depths of Mariana’s soul, all I can see is goodness. This is my truth.

I cup the back of her head, pulling her deeper into the kiss. I feel each strand of her dark hair slide between my fingers, tangling together and pulling me deep into the weave of her love. Every move is measured yet natural, controlled yet organic, as we come together in a mutual unspoken understanding, a shared sense of fragility and brevity in the present.

My breath hitches with a flood of vulnerability as I lay everything I am in front of her. Mariana might not see my face, but I am unashamedly giving her all of me. If this is the last time I will ever get the chance to love her, adore her, then I’ll do it with every sinew of my being.

My eyes flutter shut as her lips pull away, then skim my cheek, until I feel her warm breath on my ear. The fizz of excitement bubbles up from my chest, and I tilt my head to one side to feel more of her.

“May I take you to bed?”

In another far off realm, I know the answer should differ from my one word answer of “Yes.” But I can’t conceive of a world where yielding to Mariana isn’t the only possible answer. I feel her fingers lace through mine, aware of the glorious swish of her dark hair as she turns towards the house, pulling me in her current.

“We won’t be needing you, Eric,” Mariana says as we pass the waiter, who stands inside the doorway, still clutching the bottle of wine. “I’ll take this.” Her long fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle and, with a firm, fluid movement, she relieves Eric of his charge. “You can take the rest of the night off.”

“Should we get glasses?” I murmur, glancing at the bottle.

With a slow turn she steels me in her gaze. “Do you think I give a fuck about glasses?”

No. I don’t think she does. I shake my head imperceptibly and let my eyes fall to the marble of the hallway.

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