tonight make me unstoppable. (seaforanswers) wrote in wordslikewinter,
tonight make me unstoppable.

stopwatch hearts.

The first time I saw her was at a party. She had pale, pale hair and green eyes like the first spring buds. I was never much of a poet, but I wanted to write poetry about her eyes.

She went home with me. I still don't know why.

Afterwards, when she was getting dressed and I was lying in bed, watching her (although it seems that our roles should've been reversed, her lying in bed, satisfied and sprawling, me scurrying to get dressed) I asked if I could see her again.

"Don't call us," she said with a smile. "We'll call you."

I called her anyway. She was laughing when she picked up the phone, and there were social noises behind her voice - male voices, the clink of glasses, soft jazz music.

"Yes?" she said, sounding petulantly impatient. I felt my heart sink in unreasonable fear. After all, she was just a girl.

"Hello," I said, willing my voice not to shake. "We met at that party the other night. I was wondering if I could see you sometime. Maybe drinks? Dinner?"

There was silence. She seemed to be considering it.

Then there was raucous laughter behind her and she laughed too, and I knew she hadn't been thinking about it. "No," she said, not meanly, just carelessly, and hung up the phone.


The next time I saw her, her hair was longer and paler and she was thinner, her muscles wiry, and her eyes just as green. Her name was Daphne, or maybe Lilia. I wondered if she recognized me. She had a gun trained on my back and I doubted she'd want to admit that she knew me.

I thought of making love to her, her snow-pale body stretched out in the moonlight. She was a lazy lover, she had allowed me to do all of the work as if it was a favor, her letting me make love to her. And it was, I was giddy, delirious with joy, I couldn't believe my good luck. Here was this beauty, this winter goddess, her hair finer than spun silk (not that I had ever seen any, but it seemed like a good metaphor at the time), her limbs more delicate than fine china. I was delicate with her, I was afraid to break her, to damage that perfect skin. She had laughed, I remember, at the concern that must've been plain on my face and wrapped her legs around my waist. I hadn't lasted long, after that.


"Why her?" Alec asked, in between hearty swigs of ale. "You said she was lazy, inconsiderate. She hadn't called and she didn't give a shit that you did. She was a bitch. So what was so special about her?"

I shrugged. There was no way to put it into words.
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