Moonshadows

Author's Note: I thought I should mention that the great part of this chapter was written close to the last time I submitted something (almost a year ago, yikes!), but while some of the writing might be a bit dated by now, I figured my reappearance here took precedence over self-consciousness about old writing, and finally bucked up and finished the damn thing. Anyway, if there are inconsistencies in the writing style, that's the reason. As always, comments and votes are loved. Thanks, everyone!

~~~

I heard the click and whirr of my stereo powering-up before the CD began its slow crescendo to the full volume of the morning alarm. Without opening my eyes, I fumbled around on my beside table for the remote to turn it down again, and tucked my head back into my pillow, sighing. I'd get up in two songs.

It was, in fact, three songs later that I reluctantly pushed aside my delicious cocoon of blankets and got out of bed. The air was cold, and helped clear the haze of sleep from my head a little. My bare feet slipped quietly over the chilly wood of the floors as I made my way to the bathroom, but it wasn't until I spent a few minute under the hot spray of the shower that I actually began feeling awake.

I leaned back into the spray and let the steamy water massage my scalp, feeling hot rivulets of water trickle over my breasts, across my belly, and twine down my legs. My eyes were closed as I turned to face the shower-head. It was angled so that it hit my nipples just right, tickling the pink buds. I sighed happily.

Heaven.

Ten minutes later, I emerged. I would have tarried longer in the delightful heat, but I needed to save some hot water for the shower Cara would inevitably want to take, and, besides, I had to start getting ready for my breakfast engagement.

The very thought made me giddy, so there was an extra spring to my step as I returned to my room. I unwound the towel from around my body, and wrapped it around my head, to dry my hair some while I tried to pick an outfit. Any other day, it would have been simply a matter of throwing on whatever caught my eye first, but today, I wanted to look really good.

I stood in front of my wardrobe and rubbed my arms briskly as I eyed my choices. The reflection of my cream-colored skin in the wardrobe mirror caught my eye, so I turned and looked at myself fully. I noted with satisfaction the smooth length of my legs and the gentle curve of my hips. My eyes glanced at the sparse curls at the juncture of my thighs, before rising up over my flat belly to my breasts. On the small side, but still round and well-shaped they were crowned with delicate, rosy nipples. I looked higher, examining my narrow shoulders and slim arms. When I looked up to my face I sighed and turned back to choosing which clothes to wear.

After a minute of standing there naked, I picked out a pair of my favorite panties and a flesh-colored bra and put them on. Several rejects later, I even decided on some simple black pants that hugged my hips nicely and would double as suitable work attire. But I was at a loss as what to do about a shirt.

Fortunately, my housemate is more knowledgeable about the realm of fashion than I am.

I quickly toweled my hair dry and combed it out, draping the cloth around my shoulders so that it covered my mostly-bare torso. Then I went to get Cara.

I caught her on her way to the shower, but her yawns evaporated quickly when I reminded her of why I needed to dress up. She followed me back to my room and began rummaging gleefully through my meager wardrobe.

"No... Not this one either... Hah! Definitely not..." My floor was fast disappearing under a veritable carpet of discarded shirts.

"Aha!" She finally crowed in triumph. Turning to me, she held up the object of her approval. It was a deep blue sort of tube-top thing with silvery-grey embroidery on the front that was reminiscent of India. I looked at it, surprised, and a little confused. A shirt like that was way too trendy for me to have bought.

But despite my confusion, Cara insisted I try it on. And, bless her heart, she casually turned her back to me and continued picking through the remainders of my clothes, sparing me an attack of shyness. I quickly exchanged my current bra for a strapless one, and pulled the blue shirt over my head. Thankfully, it covered my belly fully, the hem fitting snugly around my pelvic bones, but I still felt exposed with my shoulders so bare.

Awkwardly, I turned around and cleared my throat softly. Cara looked over her shoulder then let out a low whistle. "Damn, Selene!" She said in appreciative tones.

I blushed. "Don't make fun."

"I'm not! You look great! I knew when I bought it, that this shirt would come in handy some day!"

Ah. So that explained the trendiness.

"Seriously, you look hot." My blush deepened.

"I don't know, Cara. I feel kind of..." I shrugged, wrapping my arms around my chest and hanging my head a little.

A look of understanding crossed her face. "Hmm, well, how about this?" She grabbed a scarf of varying shades of blue and wrapped it gently around my neck. "Does this help?"

I looked at myself in the mirror again. A foreign young woman gazed out at me, dressed in an outfit that complimented and clung to the curves of her slim body. Cara was right: she did look good. And the scarf added a touch of modesty that kept me from blushing again at the knowledge that I was looking at my own reflection. I still felt a little vulnerable, but it was a manageable feeling. I nodded my acceptance.

"Excellent," Cara exclaimed. "Now for the finishing touches..."

It took another twenty minutes to get out of the house, most of it spent convincing Cara that no amount of pleading would let her style my hair. In consolation, I let her pick out my earrings and my jacket, and at the door, I have her a big hug. "Thank you," I whispered.

"You're welcome." She replied. Then, pulling back, she looked at me earnestly. "And, Selene, you're gonna knock him off his feet."

***

He was waiting for me outside the agreed-upon café, with one hand tucked into his pants pocket. I stood off to the side for a moment, feeling a brisk morning breeze brush wisps of my hair back from my face. He didn't seem to have seen me yet. That was okay; I took the moment to compose myself, drawing deep breaths to quell the flutter in my stomach. And to drink in the sight of him. His long, muscular legs clad in jeans that were neither too baggy, nor too tight. The power of his upper body, obvious even under the simple, white, button-down shirt he was wearing. He had the same black jacket from the night before draped over his arm and stood leaning against the wall of the café. His eyes scanned the area around him calmly.

The breeze shifted, sending a few leaves at my feet dancing off toward him. The same wisps of hair now blew forward into my eyes, so I blinked and tucked them behind my ear. When I glanced back at him, he was looking right at me.

He pushed away from the wall to stand up straight, at his full, imposing height, still with his eyes on me. That gaze made my knees weak. I took a steadying breath and made my way over, my nervousness making me drop my eyes when I was in front of him.

"Sorry I'm late," I said.

He pushed one sleeve up slightly and looked at his watch. "According to this, you're right on time."

"Oh. Okay then." I still hadn't looked at him in the face.

"You ready to go in?" He asked.

"Yeah."

We walked together over to the entrance, and he pulled the door open for me. "Thanks," I murmured, pleased by the small gesture. I saw him nod as I passed into the café, then was quickly immersed in the enticing smells of breakfast.

We were directed to a small table near a window across the room, and for a few minutes afterwards, our lack of conversation could be excused by our perusals of the menus we'd been given. I ordered blueberry pancakes with a side of sausage, and he had eggs, bacon and potatoes.

After the waitress left, we sat in silence for about a minute. I nervously studied my hands, all the while feeling the weight of his golden eyes on me. I was just grateful I still had my jacket on, or his silent scrutiny might have did me in. Desperately, I tried to think of something to say, some way to launch a conversation and end this nerve-rending silence.

Once again, he saved me. "So, you said you had work today. Mind if I ask what you do?"

"Oh, um... I waitress at a little restaurant off Fourth Street. Nothing too exciting."

"That's the one next to the bookstore, right?"

"Uh huh. I go there after work a lot."

"So you like to read?"

I glanced up to gauge his expression. He looked interested. "Yeah. I do. I'm also sort of a writer, so bookstores are good places to get in the writing Zone..." I trailed off.

He leaned forward, his elbow on the table. "A writer, huh?" He nodded to himself. "Yeah, I could see that." I ventured a cautious smile.

"You don't even know if I'm any good."

"Oh, I'm thinking you probably are." He flashed me that breathtaking grin.

To my own surprise, I met his eyes and smiled back. "And what would inspire you to think something like that?"

He shrugged. "Call it intuition."

"Intuition. Right."

And just like that, the ice was broken. By the time the waitress returned with our food, we were chatting away, and I found myself becoming increasingly more relaxed in his presence. We talked about what movies we liked, our favorite book genres, –though he wasn't as fanatic a reader as I was– good music, and a whole myriad of other inconsequential things. He told me that he worked at a local sound-equipment store. It apparently served as not only a store, but a rental shop and a place where people could bring their broken gear to have it repaired. As a result, he knew a lot of people who were involved in the local music scene, and we talked about that too.

After a while, I felt myself getting warm, thanks to the coffee and my pancakes, so I shrugged out of my jacket. When I looked back to Rafe, I found him watching me with an intense, almost predatory look. I swallowed nervously, even as a heat kindled low in my belly. He blinked, and suddenly smiled.

"Sorry. Spaced-out there for a minute."

"That's okay. I do that all the time." I didn't comment that his look hadn't seemed even remotely spacey.

We finished our food, and payed the bill. He offered to pay for me, but I declined, not yet feeling quite familiar enough to have him buy my food. I shrugged back into my jacket and we walked together out of the café, him holding the door open for me again. Since I didn't have anywhere I needed to be right away, we strolled around downtown for a bit, and continued our conversation.

After a while, our talk turned to the events of the night before. I paused next to a short stone wall and leaned against it, thanking him again, somewhat shyly, for his rescue.

"And what if I told you I wasn't exactly being selfless?" He was looking at me with that predatory intensity again.

I eyed him askance. "The way you're saying it... it sounds a little creepy, actually."

He laughed and idly brushed a few leaves off the top of the wall. "That's not how I intended it."

"Maybe you'd better clarify, then?"

"Well, I've kind of been watching you for a while." My eyes widened, and he held up a hand in an attitude of self-defense. "But before you start thinking I'm a stalker, let me explain what I mean." Leaning against the stone wall next to me, he resumed pleasantly. "I've noticed you in the park before. You like to sit at that one bench and write in your notebook. I go running through the same park, and I kept thinking about heading over and starting a conversation, but..." He shrugged.

He noticed me? And I had been oblivious all this time. I felt both astonished and confused. "Why didn't you?"

He smiled crookedly. "You seemed so focused that I always felt like an asshole for even thinking about interrupting you."

I didn't know what to say to that, because it was true that one the one hand, I didn't go to the park to be hit on by strangers. But on the other, I would hardly have objected if he'd been the one hitting on me. So I just smiled cautiously.

"Anyway, when I was walking home last night and I saw those guys messing with you, I figured that getting rid of them would not only be be the good-citizen thing to do, but it also seemed like an opportunity to finally talk to you." He shrugged again. "That's my story. Less creepy this time?"

I laughed. "Yes. Much better." When I looked back at him, my breath caught in my throat. The intensity was back in his eyes, in full force, holding me rooted in place.

"You have a gorgeous laugh. You know that, Selene?"

"I... Uh..."

"I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?" He softened his expression with a wry smile.

"A little." I shrugged self-consciously.

"You could always tell me to shut up, you know."

I glanced at him, thinking he was joking. He looked serious enough. "Maybe I will next time."

"Next time... Implying you'd see me again?"

"Is that an invitation?"

His hand which had been hanging next to mine, deftly caught my fingers and raised it to his lips. The heat of his breath on the back of my hand left me dizzy. "Just name the time and place."

Head spinning, heart aflutter, I did. And so began our relationship.

***

Our next date was, in fact, the very next evening. My boss had given everybody the day off in order to do some repainting in a few of the rooms, so Rafe and I decided to see a movie. I recruited Cara again to help me gussy up; a task which she accepted just as gleefully as the first time. It seemed like she was almost as excited about the concept of me dating as I was. For this evening, she had me clothed in my tightest pair of jeans, and a simple, green blouse, though she fussed about the lack of options.

"If you weren't so damn tiny, I'd just lend you one of my shirts and that'd be that." She said, pouting humorously.

The expression made her naturally rosy lips curve in an elegant frown, and her perfect eyebrows lowered in feigned displeasure. But her long-lashed blue eyes were still sparkling with playfulness, and she couldn't maintain the frown for long before a corner of her mouth curved up in a little smile.

I wondered if she was fully aware of just how gorgeous she was. Because not only did she have a movie-star face, framed by amazing blonde hair that you just couldn't get in any salon, she had the effortlessly perfect figure that curved generously in all the right places, and made anything she wore look good. If she wasn't such a wonderful human being, I might have disliked her out of sheer envy alone.

But she was Cara, my best friend since high-school and housemate these past two years. My confidante, and staunch supporter in every way; I really was blessed to have her as a part of my life.

I looked at the clothes she was wearing and imagined the tent-like effect they would have on my own slim frame. Besides, the style of a great deal of her wardrobe was really something only a person like her could pull off. So I rolled my eyes. "Well, thank goodness we're not the same size then."

"Hey, don't bash unless you try it." She retorted with a wink, then looked me over with a more serious eye. "Anyway. I guess we'll just have to live with this instead."

I smiled and blew her a kiss, grabbing my purse. "Thanks, Cara."

"You're welcome, hot stuff." She tossed my jacket. "I expect a full report when you get back."

"Don't you have something better to do? Like tormenting your throngs of male-admirers?"

"Oh, they can wait." She said dismissively. "Your romantic life is far more interesting."

"Yuh-huh. Goodbye, Cara." I said, walking out the door.

"Later!"

The walk to the theatre was quick and uneventful, and this time I got there before Rafe. I payed for my ticket, then stood off to the side, scanning the growing crowd for his impressive frame. A few minutes later, I spotted him at the same instant he did me, and he made his way over, parting the crowd with ease. As he did so, I noticed more than a couple lingering and appreciative glances at him from the women in the area. I could hardly blame them; he was sinfully good-looking. Far too much so for me to ever have done anything more than day-dream about, if not for that fateful meeting of ours. But it seemed he had eyes only for me, and the realization made me nearly giddy with pride.

A girl could get used to this self-confidence thing.

It was ridiculously crowded for a Tuesday, and as we made our way to the doors, people pressed closer to funnel through. I unconsciously shrank into myself to keep from being being bumped against, uncomfortable amidst the crush of people, until I felt a firm, reassuring hand rest against the small of my back, gently guiding me forward.

I looked up at Rafe and he gave me a little smile as did his effortless parting of the human seas thing, making the rest of our passage into the theatre a breeze. My skin felt tingly and warm where his hand touched me and I edged closer to him ever so slightly, liking the contact.

Fortunately for me, the movie we had decided on had been out for while, so it wasn't as hideously cramped as the rest of the place, and we were able to get a pair of good seats close to the middle of the theatre. Rafe stretched out his long legs as much as the seats would allow, and laced his fingers across his flat stomach. He was dressed all in black tonight, so when the lights went down for the start of the movie, he blended almost completely with the darkness, except for his fascinating yellow eyes. They caught the light from the movie screen and seemed to reflect it back as gold.

The movie was entertaining; some comedy film without much plot, but with clever writing. I laughed aloud a few times, and glanced over at my companion when I heard him do the same. It was a low, rich sound, like his speaking voice, and it made a curious shivery sensation awaken low in my belly.

As the movie went on, I gathered my courage and attempted to advance things a step. At first I felt a little silly, like some middle-schooler out on their first "date," as I leaned a little closer to Rafe and let my arm press against his. My inexperience made my stomach flutter with nerves, and I dared not do anything more than that. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn his head to look at me, then he carefully found my hand in the dark, and cupped it in his own. For the rest of the film, he held on to it, every now and then tracing a finger along my knuckles or the back of my hand.

I could hardly believe it, but just that simple touch made me unbelievably aroused. So much so, that when the movie was over, I had to retire to the bathroom and just sit in the stall, taking deep breaths until I cooled down enough that I wasn't likely to embarrass myself. Then I went and joined him again.

We didn't have any concrete plans for after the movie, but neither of us was ready to go home just yet. He suggested heading over to one of the parks and taking a walk around there until inspiration struck about a better location. I agreed, but it turned out that we never did think of a better place to go, and just ended up walking around and around the darkened groves, lost in our conversation, and each other.

Despite the fact that it was summer, the night was unexpectedly chilly, and the jacket that I had brought wasn't cutting it. I began to shiver a little, and tucked my hands into the jacket's pockets to keep them warmer. The movement caught his attention and he looked at me closely.

"Here," he said, and offered his jacket to me.

"Oh," I replied, "I wouldn't ask you to... Don't you want it?"