Page 55 of Fly's Path

A sterile, boring man doesn’t join a biker gang. He doesn’t own a sports car and an old minivan. He certainly doesn’t kiss like a Casanova while flirting like a spy in a movie.

I could wander around the space, touching all the things and looking to find the man beside me in them. Instead, I take a seat on the oversized couch that faces the stone fireplace and a wall of windows.

As Fly settles in next to me, the lights dim until there’s just the soft glow of flickering flames and the natural light from the moon and stars.

This is why he bought this space. It’s why anyone would live in the woods. “Beautiful.”

“Yes, you are.” He brushes back a lock of my hair.

“This is the part where we kiss.”

“It could be.” His hand stops on my shoulder, idly twirling the loose strand around his finger and brushing across the nape of my neck.

Kissing him in the firelight sounds almost like a dream little girls have of the perfect kiss. All it’s missing are a few candles and some soft music. But those cars are messing with my head. I need to understand more about the man in front of me.

“But you aren’t ready to kiss me?” The strand slips from his finger.

That shouldn’t be true, but it is.

“Why?”

“Because after the girl kisses the frog, what happens?”

He stares at me for a long moment, processing words that make no sense even to me.

“Tell me something about you. Something real.” Because right now my reality feels so unreal.

That was too much to ask. Fly brought me here to his wild mansion to make out, not to have an in-depth discussion about what forms his perspectives on life.

Why did I ask?

“Do you want to see a magic trick?”

That’s the weirdest response. “Sure.”

The fingers that were twirling my hair reach up and gently caress my ear. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a quarter in your ear?”

That is the oldest trick in the book. “No. I don’t believe they have.”

“Well, they’d be wrong, because I found this one right there.” A quarter smoothly appears between his fingers.

What does that mean?

“Now you tell me something about you.”

That trick felt weirdly wild, but it didn’t feel like he was mocking me. “I can’t tie a cherry stem with my tongue.”

Fly blinks, smirks, and then his grin gets downright naughty.

Those lips of his are begging to be kissed…or maybe those are mine doing the begging. Either way, do I really need to wait to understand the nuances of this man to kiss him again?

We can talk later…much later.

Home For Kisses

Fly

Icould kiss her.