number one wet blanketMature

[incomplete!] Chapter _; book i.
Working chapter title: number one wet blanket 
*author note:  this is not the same chapter as was originally posted.  chapter switched out on march 30, 2011. 

Pilot found her outside, her legs swinging over the side of the dock, hunched under her loose wool sweater.  She’d thrown on her boots on her way out the door but hadn’t bothered to tie them, and the strings dangled beyond the rubber soles to sink their tips into the shadowy blue waters.  It had stopped raining, but the air was wet and cool.  She half turned toward him when she heard his footsteps behind her, not quite enough to meet his eyes. Her lower lip was plump, dark with the stress of worrying it between her teeth.

He sat down beside her on the dock, keeping his thoughts to himself.  It had taken a while, but he'd learned the subtle quirks to reaching out to her.  He knew the rules.  He cast his gaze out onto the open waters, watching the fog creep up the mountains surrounding them.

Eden looked to him then, sadness seeping into her bones.  Somewhere deep within her spiteful, beating heart, she leafed through memories; hundreds, thousands of memories.  She could see everything her life had been embedded in his skin, everything she expected her life to be in his eyes.  He fit against her, one grain of sand against a shoreline; pleasant, gradual sinking. 

She wanted to crawl inside of him, take shelter in the warm marrow of his bones, wrap herself up in the hollow of his ribs. Stretch out, reach with the tips of her very existence, deep between the layers of his skin, seep into his blood and vanish into his DNA. To lose everything on the breath that escaped his lips.

But every time she moved to reach out to him, her instincts pulled her back.  Kept her fingers on her thighs instead of his arm, glued to the safety of her own beast.  Twitching with the desperation to be nearer to him.

She hugged the sweater closer to her body, colder now that the sun had gone down.  What was she fighting?  Nature?  Fear?  Both, she thought.  The looming questions were too suffocating, too foreboding.


The End

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