Point System

“Spelunking sounds fun. And a good excuse to get out of the house often.”

He motions to the bartender for another round. “Yep. I try to go every weekend.”

Every weekend? I bet the gear is expensive, too. Buying accessories for a hobby is almost as fun as the hobby itself. All points forfeited. You lose, buddy.

I grab my purse. “Do you know where the ladies’ room is?”

He points, then picks up our drinks. “Should I get us a table?”

“Sure.” I head in the direction of the restrooms but take the stairs instead to the second floor bar. After five minutes of looking wistful with my strawberry daiquiri as my only company, a tall-blond-and-handsome elbows his way next to me against the bar and orders something on tap. The foam clings to his upper lip with the first sip, but he notices quickly and licks it off. One point. Oh, and what’s that? A tingle in my stomach from the sight of that skillful tongue? One extra point.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

He offers his hand. “Daniel Rivers.”

Another point for an easy to spell last name. I take his hand. “Rebecca Robertson.” And I could keep my initials. One more point. Plus one extra point for a straightforward greeting with no pickup line. “Do you go by Daniel?”

“Since I was eighteen.”

“Can I call you Danny?”

He smiles. Good smile. Good teeth. And that stomach tingle again. Three points. “Depends on the circumstance.” And two more points for a sense of humor. “Can I get you another drink?”

“If I have another, I might need a ride home.”

“No problem. I can take you home.”

Let’s kick this up a notch. “I might have some friends joining me. I’m usually the designated driver.”

He smiles again. Wow. Five more points. “Well, that might be a problem. I drive a pick-up.”

Oh. A truck. Even better than a sports car. He’s practical, and probably handy. And can deliver that chest of drawers I’ve had my eye on. Ladies and gentleman, we have a winner.

Rearrange Me ‘Til I’m Sane

Inspiration Monday XX. One more X, and I would have had to have added much more detail. :O

“would have had to have”? Jeez. Is there a better way to say that? It’s painful.

* * * * *

The shade of night offers no relief from the heat. I swelter against him, boil in his arms, melt into the bed of dusty earth and dead grass. Any more of this, and he’ll have to reform my body in the morning. Rearrange me ’til I’m sane.

His mouth is dry and so is mine. We’ve sweated all our moisture out. We both know there’s no water for miles, but in this moment, we could both dehydrate and die and it would all be worth it. Our bodies would return to the earth together, fertilizing the soil, this union creating life in a different way.

He pushes up on straight, stiff arms to look at me. His chest heaves. The air floods between us, pushing him an ocean away from me. A vibration tickles the back of my head, and I turn my ear to the ground. It’s just a hint. It could be anything. He puts his ear against the ground beside me. His eyes are mirrors of mine. The vibration builds into something we both recognize and we sit up simultaneously. Orange twinkles through the forest toward us.

He takes my hand and we run. We’re too dehydrated. We’re too far from water. Sound laps at the backs of my legs, stealing my death in bliss and handing out a death in fear.

“No!” I stop so abruptly I fall to my knees. He stops a few yards ahead and turns. I sit back on my heels. “No.”

He puts his hands on his knees, bows his head. Breathes. When he looks up, all I see is a wicked smile. “We face it,” he says.

“Yes.”

“No one’s ever faced it.”

I stand. “We face it.”

He comes to my side. We watch it coming toward us. Our breath slows. Our hearts calm. And we welcome our death in freedom.