Connected by Shadow

 

Adrien tried not to look at Aoife, but his gaze was drawn to her like sparkle to a star. He lowered his eyes as though he was reading his book and hoped she wouldn’t notice him watching her through the shadow of his long, black lashes.

He drank in the line of her jaw. He wanted to kiss the point where it abutted the curve of her neck. The simple gold chain she wore glinted in the afternoon light, calling him. Her crystal pendant hung just above the cleft of cleavage barely visible given her modest blouse.

Aoife raised her slender hand to push a lock of golden hair from where it had fallen on her cheek and he was undone, again, by that graceful neck, no longer shrouded by her tresses. Truly, he was stung by love, and a pleasant sting it was.

Adrien could feel the color rise to his cheeks as he thought of what it would be like to hold her and murmur into that darling, delicate ear. Would she welcome his secrets, his confessions?

Resolved, he closed his book, stood, and on sure feet, walked to her.

Aoife looked up as Adrien approached. Had he seen her watching him? Did he know that she longed to rest her cheek against his shoulder? That she yearned to feel the whisper of those long, black lashes as he kissed the tender place where jaw met neck?

Her whole village knew of him. But only she knew him, understood him. Of this she was certain, and she was unafraid.

She knew he was beautiful to behold. She knew that he was strong and faster than thought. She knew he would be gentle. And she was not surprised that he arrived without a sound. She was also not surprised that he arrived without a shadow. After all, she had stolen it when they were small children, their families passing on a rutted road. It was what bound them together. Did he remember?