Love's Magic

I came home from a hard day full of stocking shelves and delivering pizzas to an empty living room again. I knew that Blake was going to be home late that night, like always, so, like always, I decided to go take a shower. I went into my bedroom and started to undress. That was when I noticed a dim light coming from underneath the bathroom door. I didn’t think much of it. Blake leaves lights on all over the house, even after he’s gone to work. I just figured he left the light on the dim setting. I’ll have to talk to him about that, I thought. I quickly undressed in the bedroom and walked to the bathroom. I didn’t expect anything I saw when I opened the door. I didn’t expect the light to be coming from candles set up all over the edge of the tub, sink, and counter. I didn’t expect the bathtub to be nearly overflowing with bubbles. I didn’t expect the rose petals that were scattered on the floor. And I certainly didn’t expect Blake to be sitting there, naked and smiling at me.

“Blake!” I said, shocked.

“Hey, Warren,” he said, smiling and calmly poking at the bubbles.

“I-I thought you were going to study at the library.”

“I cut out early.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Not too long.”

“Why did you do this?”

“Why are you questioning me?” He was still smiling. “Would you like to join me, Warren?”
I smiled and stepped into the tub, the warm water slightly burning my skin –

I was pulled out of my memory of last night with a yawn. Not my own, but Blake’s. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how it ended anyway.

“Hello, darlin’,” he said as he woke up.

“Mornin’,” I answered.

“What time is it?”

“I have no idea.”

Chuckling, he turned onto his back to see the alarm clock on the night stand. I reached for his chest, but he grabbed my hand instead. With my fingers laced in his I noticed the scars on his wrists. The only evidence left of what had happened a year ago.

A year ago Blake had ended up in the clutches of a satyr. (A love spell, we think, as I had found deer’s tongue on him when we showered after he was saved.) He had been trapped, perpetually playing music for massive gatherings of creatures. I went in, not knowing whether or not I would come out alive. Somehow, I managed to get myself and Blake out mostly unharmed, except for Blake’s wrists. He had been tied to a stage by thorny vines that injected poison into his veins that would keep him in a drugged state.

“It’s almost noon, Warren,” he said to me. “We should really get out of this bed.”

“No,” I whined. “I’m comfy.”

He chuckled. “Alright, just a few more minutes. The we get breakfast.”

“Deal,” I said.

An hour went by and I still wasn’t ready to get up. But I had promised Blake.

I got up quietly (Blake had fallen back asleep) and silently made my way to the kitchen. I rummaged around in the fridge and ended up making us omelets and toast. I cooked everything, put it on a plate, poured two glasses of orange juice, grabbed some silverware, put it all on a tray and took it back upstairs to the bedroom.

Miraculously, Blake had slept through all the noise I had made banging plates, pots, and pans in the kitchen.

“Hey, babe,” I whispered. He mumbled something and opened his eyes. “Hungry?” He mumbled something vaguely sounding affirmative. I set the tray down and crawled into bed next to him. As I sat down, Blake looked at me and then at the clock.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked.

“What?”

“When Riley got here. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Riley’s not here…” I thought for a second. “Why would he come here?”

“He promised to bring some stuff,” answered Blake.

“Like what?”

“Just stuff.”

I opened my mouth to reply but found that I couldn’t speak through the egg that had been shoved into it. I glared at Blake who just grinned playfully at me.

“Well, for Riley, never expect him to be an time he’s always at least a half hour late,” I said once I had swallowed the food that was in my mouth. Blake laughed.

“I seem to remember hearing that once before.”

“When was he supposed to be here?”

“Like ten minutes ago,” he said as he lifted one of the glasses of orange juice to his lips. I grinned.

“That means we have twenty minutes left.” I leaned over the plate in his lap and pressed my lips to his. They tasted like orange juice.