Discover Top Posts Tagged with #jantor

It was hotter than Hell and she was laying across the top of him because she had forgotten her beach towel. He could feel the heat radiating off her, but he didn't nudge her off, even when a small shift in her position caused her hair to fall across his freckled face and tickle the end of his nose. He could smell the cherry blossom essence of her shampoo and her heartbeat steadily thumping against her rib cage, hard enough for him to feel it; everything about her was comfort. He turned his head slightly, pressing his face into her hair, pale eyes drifting shut as they lay there in the sand. This kind of contentment was rare now a days.

He had almost drifted off when he felt her shift, nose brushing against his jaw, and heard her giggle. He slowly cracked an eye open, unable to keep from grinning when he saw her face mere inches away from his own. "What's so funny?" He was sure he knew but he never passed up a chance to ask her questions, even when the answer was very obvious or incredibly simple.

"You smell like bananas." He rolled his eyes, slender fingers tapping out a rhythm along her spine, as if each bone were a piano key.

"I, unlike someone who shall not be named here, do not tan, hence the truck load of sunscreen I put on when you insisted we explore the beach." He also had a particularly worn hat he wore that he hardly ever left his room without, but that wasn't the focus of their conversation so he didn't mention it. "Curse of being ginger. Not only do we have no soul but it's very easy to get roasted alive too." He wrinkled his nose, the freckles bunching there to momentarily create a small blotch. She kissed his cheek and he knew there was a faint blush there beneath the small dash of pink on his cheeks from the sun.... and they stayed close together, relishing the comfortable silence between them.

He wasn't sure how much time lingered there between them where nothing can touch them but, when he opened his eyes again, it's cooler, the sun's inching down behind the watery horizon, and she was staring at him... He could see the sadness in her eyes and he knows his own blue orbs mirror it as he reaches up to brush a wayward strand of her dark hair out of her eyes. "Are you happy...?" He was taken aback. His mind jumped of the boy who made him think of sunshine when he smiled, how hard it was to even raise his head off his pillow some mornings, of how he was so scared to be who he should be, of the scars on his arms; hidden by his shirt which would give way to more blood and deeper scars when he couldn't handle it anymore and nobody was watching...

"I'm trying to be... It's not as easy as I thought it was going to be when we were younger." It was the most honest he'd been in a long time. "And you? Are you happy...?" She looked confused and he realized she hadn't expected him to ask her. She didn't know how to answer and he knew she felt like she shouldn't be sad if for no other reason than she really didn't have a reason not to be happy. He knew. He felt the same way, selfish in his unbridled sadness with no way to reign it in where he felt it should be.

"I'm trying to be..." She repeated his words as she pressed her face into the sharpness of his collarbone and his heart hitched painfully. "That's not fair... right? Being happy shouldn't be something you've got to TRY for..." He shook his head in response, not speaking because he didn't trust his voice then. It wasn't but he had heard his mother say one thousand and one times that life wasn't fair. He reached for her hand which rested over his shoulder, laced fingers with her, and brought it down to rest against his heart. It was a silent promise to be there. He knew she could read it as such, no words needed.

#tantor bing #jane porter #jantor #story