Flowers of Winter
JANUARY 11th
Roo remembered the curve of Ruskin’s collar bone, the way she traced her fingers over the line of his chin, the peak of his lips, just below his eyes. She remembered how much darker his skin was than hers and the plumpness of his mouth, teeth only slightly yellow but perfectly straight. His eyebrows were thick like caterpillars nesting on his forehead.
She had kissed him. Many times, not enough times. Her body was hungry for his own, craving the sweetness of his flesh, pleading to lick the water from him dry. They made love in his car on the snowy mountain last winter to keep warm when the car broke down, snow falling heavily on the quivering white exterior. They did it again on Grace’s kitchen table after dessert at her dinner party, the other four guest watched a movie that neither Rusk or Roo were interested in.
“Would you like to be my plus one to this party?” he had asked only days after they first met, “it’s not very exciting but I’d love for you to come”
She fought hard to keep an over-pleased smile off her lips at his simple words that meant so much more. Her eyes twinkled brightly of fresh romance.
But the spot beside her was vacant. Those memories were all in the past. He was in the past, not the future.
Wanted: male to accompany in life. Must be handsome, funny, sweet and a lover of cats, named Ruskin. Six foot two, tan, long fingers, croaky laugh, favourite food: pancakes with strawberries.