April's Glow

by Juliet Madison

  Before she closed the store, she checked her email. A new post had arrived from Zac’s blog, and she clicked the link, expecting another self-reflective insight into his mind or the universe or general life philosophy. But her breath caught in her throat as she read the first line …

  Her smile is a melody I hear with my heart,

  Her eyes a symphony in which I wish to take part.

  The sights, the sounds, all senses consumed,

  By being around her my soul is exhumed.

  Temptation offers its hand in a wave,

  Connection, emotion, intensity I crave.

  A synergistic dance of two souls in the night,

  Swaying, merging, ready to take flight.

  A single moment ripples the ribbon of time

  Like a drop of my poison, its sweetness sublime.

  But that moment so fleeting, so pure, so raw,

  Leaves a beautiful stain I can no longer ignore.

  The chill of July cools my burning heart,

  September’s smile promises a fresh new start.

  Like ocean waves my needs ebb and flow,

  But I’ll always long for April’s Glow.

  Her hands shook, her heart raced, her skin became warm and sweaty. Conflicted by the beauty of the prose and the inappropriateness of using her name and her store name, she stood quickly, her balance unsteady. She gripped the counter and tried to calm her breathing.

  She had to go see him.

  Not to surrender to the power of his words, or get the passion out of her system, but because this had to stop. He had to stop.

  * * *

  Zac had reread a lot of his blog over the past couple of hours, and deduced that there was a decent amount of content to make a start on a book. A book about his journey to recovery, and how self-discovery and poetry had been his saviour. The only thing he needed to work on next was his fear of not being anonymous anymore. He would have to make it known who he was, and be prepared to stand up and announce his experiences, his flaws, his triumphs, to the world. Or at least, anyone who was interested enough to listen. And, he realised, he hadn’t even shared his poetry with April yet. And he wondered why she hadn’t pestered him about it over the last several months. Maybe if she read some she would see. She might understand more, and see him for who he really was.

  He looked up from his deck chair, over his laptop, at her house, the sky darkening behind it. He’d thought he’d heard her front door opening, which meant she’d be coming out back soon to get Romeo inside before he jumped the fence for his evening rendezvous with Juliet. He got up and put his laptop inside, filling a bowl with food for Juliet, then returned to the deck to water his potted plants.

  Just as he thought, the back door opened. But she didn’t call out for Romeo.

  ‘Zac,’ she said, looking his way. That was a first.

  ‘That is me,’ he replied.

  ‘I have to confess something.’ She walked down the deck steps and over to the fence where he met her. She propped her hands on top of the fence, her pink fingernails curving over onto his side of the fence, shiny and bright.

  ‘Confess? You’re not the type to keep secrets, what is it?’ Unless, was she about to tell him how she really felt?

  ‘I’ve read your blog.’

  ‘Oh.’ He stepped back a little. ‘How did you find it?’

  ‘I didn’t. My employee, Belinda did. Sorry. I mentioned ages ago that my new neighbour was a poet and had a blog, and somehow it came out that you were in the army, and somehow she used her internet powers to find it and she did. Winning the War Within, right?’

  He nodded. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. If he’d known, he may not have posted the poem earlier today. ‘So you’ve seen today’s …’

  ‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Look, you’re really good. I mean, really good. They’re beautiful. But you shouldn’t have used my name, or my store’s name.’

  He slipped his hands into his pockets. ‘It was used in a symbolic way. April’s Glow, you know, the month, and the glow of autumn colours, that sort of thing.’ And her name. And her glow.

  ‘I get that, but anyway, it’s not just that. It’s the others too. I’ve read them all. I’m flattered, I think they’re lovely, but … please stop, Zac. Please.’

  ‘Why, April?’ He removed his hands from his pockets and propped them up on the fence aside hers. ‘Why should I stop doing something that brings me joy? Something that helps me express things I’m clearly not allowed to express with you?’

  She diverted her gaze, but kept her hands on the fence as though she might fall over. ‘Because … because it’s uncomfortable for me, knowing you’re thinking, feeling, those things, when you live next door.’

  ‘So don’t read it then.’

  ‘That doesn’t change the fact that—’

  ‘That what, April? That I have feelings for you? Yes, there you have it. Out in the open, laid out in simple terms instead of my fancy rhyming words.’

  She caught his eye for a split second then diverted her gaze again.

  ‘It’s too hard to be around you,’ she said softly.

  ‘We’re neighbours. We’re going to be around each other occasionally. And I thought we were also friends.’

  ‘I don’t want to be friends.’ She lowered her face.

  It was like he’d been slapped in the face. This was it, she was making a stand, and maybe one of them would have to move house in order to deal with the situation. ‘You can’t keep going hot and cold like this, April,’ he said. ‘You need to make a decision so we can both move on with our lives, you need to—’

  ‘I want to be more than friends.’

  What?

  ‘But I can’t,’ she added. ‘So we’re in a bit of a pickle.’

  ‘Can’t or won’t?’

  She managed a brief look into his eyes. ‘You know the answer, Zac. And you know why.’

  ‘So you’re judging me based on your past experience again. Assuming I’m like your father, assuming I’m not strong enough to stay sober.’

  ‘It’s not just that, it’s … I can’t … If I ever lost someone again, I don’t know if …’ She returned her gaze to meet his.

  He moved his hands on top of hers on the fence, holding them in place with assurance. ‘Who says you’d lose me?’

  He thought something glimmered in her eye, a subtle flicker of possibility, a sign that he was getting through to her. Until she said, ‘I can’t risk it. I’m sorry.’ She removed her hands from beneath his.

  ‘So if we can’t be friends, and we can’t be more than friends …’ he mused.

  She shrugged.

  ‘April, you’re thinking too much about the past and about the future. And you don’t know what the future holds. What about the present? What about living in the now? The moment? You can’t live in regret and fear. You can only live right here, right now, take your next best step.’ His voice became urgent, impatient.

  ‘Oh yes, live in the moment,’ she said, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘That’s what everyone says. But what about the consequences?’

  ‘And what about the good consequences?’ he replied. ‘So what if things get messy, or uncertain, or we make mistakes. That’s life. That’s how we learn. But not embracing something you feel out of fear of what may or may not happen? That’s not living.’

  She rubbed at her arm.

  ‘You have a life, April. Live it. Do what you want.’

  She looked at him, returned to the fence and gripped it. ‘And what do you want?’

  ‘I want you,’ he said. ‘Plain and simple.’ There was no going back now. ‘Whether it’s for a night, a week, a month, or years … I want you.’

  He was done being patient, if she didn’t reciprocate now he’d leave it alone. Move on.

  A loud exhalation escaped her mouth. She was silent, her face tense, her hands white at the knuckles. ‘I can’t,’ she said, then released her grip and walked up to the
deck, Romeo following her inside, and the door to her house, and heart, closing with a snap.

  Chapter 21

  April’s body trembled when she got inside. She dropped the cat food all over the floor, then picked up all the pieces one by one, cursing herself. She paced around the living room, then the kitchen. Her body buzzed with unused energy, potential that had failed to be realised, desire that had been building up too long. The constant battle between yes and no and head and heart was waging its own war within, and she didn’t know if she could win it.

  She should feel better, having made her decision and openly declared what she was unwilling to do, to settle for. But she felt worse. If this was what doing the right thing for herself and her mother was like, then what would risking it all and being proved right feel like? Surely it would be worse. Which meant, she had to stick to her guns. Temporary pain for long-term gain.

  She checked her phone and was about to call Zoe when she found herself on Zac’s blog again.

  She reread the poem about April’s Glow …

  Temptation offers its hand in a wave,

  Connection, emotion, intensity I crave.

  Oh, she craved it too. A relationship was a no-no, but she couldn’t deny the fire between them.

  Live in the moment.

  What if the world ended tonight?

  If the world ended she wouldn’t be here at home pacing the house and worrying about things that hadn’t happened yet.

  She would get out there and live.

  ‘You can’t live in regret and fear. You can only live right here, right now, take your next best step.’

  She recalled Zac’s words.

  The house seemed devoid of oxygen. She flung open the front door and sucked in a breath, washing her lungs with the salty night air. In the distance, a couple walked arm in arm towards the town. They were living. Doing something. Together.

  She was here. Doing nothing. Alone.

  She placed her hand on her waist, at the side, where Zac had placed his when he’d slow danced with her. She tried to recall its firmness and warmth. And the touch of his hands on hers before, on the fence. She could garner a glimpse, a hint, of the sensation, but no more. She strained to remember, to feel, but the sensations were fleeting and just beyond her reach. She needed to feel it again, him again. Even if once.

  Hell, she needed more than that.

  Maybe living in the moment was exactly what was needed. She needn’t worry about getting deeply involved, she’d made it clear to Zac where she stood on that. But now, right now, she didn’t know how she could go on without expressing this part of herself that was burning inside.

  She looked over to his house with its calm facade.

  Each step she took towards it lit a trail of flames, desire building momentum and propelling her towards him.

  She reached the door and knocked hard and fast.

  It opened.

  He stood there, shock and surprise on his face.

  ‘I want you too,’ she said. ‘Right now, I want you too.’

  She flung her arms around him and pressed her lips against his in one sudden, urgent, all-consuming kiss. His arms flew around her back, hands moved up into her hair, delving and embracing, pulling her as close as humanly possible.

  But it still wasn’t close enough.

  She kicked the door shut behind her with her good leg, then they moved further inside, lips teasing and tangling, hands everywhere. She pulled up his t-shirt at the back. The heat of his skin, and the curves and firmness of his muscles delighted her hands as they moved up his back. Oh God, this would be the end of her. She couldn’t get enough.

  She yanked his t-shirt up and moved back a tad to let his arms up as she pulled it over his head, his inked upper body a piece of art right in front of her, urging her to appreciate and explore its beauty. She ran her hands along his chest, looked deep into his eyes; raw, needy, exposed. Mirroring her emotions in this moment.

  ‘You sure?’ he whispered.

  ‘I’m sure,’ she breathed her reply.

  He led her down the hallway and into his room, and as she stood near the entrance, he walked to the corner and turned on a small salt lamp, giving the room a fiery orange glow and an otherworldly ambience. He turned around, the lamp’s colour accentuating his tanned, sculpted body. As they slowly moved towards each other across the room, she lifted her slim-fitting black top up and over her head, surprising herself as well as him.

  Zac smiled, a delicious, appreciative smile. He brought his hands up to her bare arms, sliding upwards and curving them over her shoulders like he was lathering her with warm oil, then trailed one hand delicately across her chest.

  Her skin tingled, every nerve on high alert and hyper-reactive to his touch. When his lips touched her neck, she leaned her head back as the tender warmth softened her, made her crave more. His kisses trailed across her collarbone, to the centre of her chest, to the other collarbone, and up to the other side of her neck. Warm hands travelled from her waist to her back, his fingers lifting and teasing the straps of her bra. He pulled her closer, and as their breaths collided in front of each other in a whirlwind of need, she looked into the endless sea of his eyes. Right here, right now, this was where she was meant to be. As though everything before had been only practice, preparation, leading her to this moment. Nothing else mattered but their primal, inexplicable connection. Their need to be with each other completely.

  Holding onto her back, he moved backwards with her until they reached the bed. She touched his chest, moved her hands up and over his shoulders, then leaned close and kissed the tattoo of an eagle that sat between his right shoulder and pec. As though following a sensory treasure hunt, she moved to the side of him, her fingers tracing one tattoo to the next, until she was facing his back. She ran her hand down his spine, following the five symbols inked on his skin. ‘What are these?’ she whispered, as she leaned in close to his ear.

  He turned his head slightly, his hand coming up and over his shoulder to caress her cheek. ‘The five elements: earth, air, fire, water, and spirit.’

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said. ‘You’re beautiful.’ She fanned her hands out across his lower back, over the skin poetry she’d seen that night at dinner, then moved to his other side and around to face his front. She sat on the bed, her fingers hooking onto the top of his jeans, as he tousled her hair with exquisite tenderness like he was a sculptor and she was his art.

  ‘There’s another tattoo,’ he said. ‘Right here.’ He led her hand to his right hip, and slid it just under his jeans. She gazed at the muscled V shape that went from his hips to below his jeans, then she unbuttoned and unzipped them. He stepped out of his jeans and she slowly lowered his underwear to just below his hipbone, revealing four words inscribed at a forty-five degree angle:

  For your eyes only …

  April smiled, leaned forward and pressed four kisses to his skin, one on each word, her fourth kiss lingering. Zac released a delicious, slow, deep sound, like a cross between a moan and a sigh. She glanced up, connecting with his downward gaze, his smile mirroring hers. He bent down and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, and his hands lowered to the top of her skirt.

  She tensed. ‘My leg,’ she whispered. ‘I need to …’ She wriggled out of her skirt, then rolled down the cover of her prosthesis. She pressed the button to release the prosthetic limb and pulled it off, placing it on the floor, then removed her sock and the silicone liner from her stump. ‘All done,’ she said, looking up at him.

  ‘You’re beautiful too,’ he said. ‘All of you.’ He stroked her left thigh and gently squeezed the flesh at the top of her knee. She quivered at his touch, at the sensation of someone touching that part of her that had felt only pain.

  Despite the dim light, her eyes were drawn to his left thigh also, where three deep, fragmented scars were embedded into his skin. She caressed the bumpy and fragile textures with her fingers.

  ‘Shrapnel scars,’ he said. His
hand came down to meet hers at his thigh and she entwined her fingers with his, their eyes and hearts connecting, bonded by their wounds.

  Zac leaned down and grasped her face, delivering a soft and luscious kiss to her mouth, and she allowed herself to fall backwards onto the bed as his body moved over hers. He helped her manoeuvre to the centre of the bed then lowered his body completely on top of her. The weight of him against her was like a whole body kiss. She revelled under his firm reassurance, as their lips shared in the ecstasy of what their souls had been longing to express for so long.

  She was transported to another realm, as his lips journeyed down her neck, her chest, and the curves of her cleavage. The subtle release of her bra clasp made her breath quicken, even more so when he delicately caressed and kissed the soft skin of her breast. ‘Zac,’ she sighed.

  There was no self-consciousness in the unfamiliarity of his touch, only pure comfort at being with him in this way, like they’d known each other deeply many times. Yet, at the same time, the moment held an overpowering sense of newness that urged to be explored and discovered.

  Zac rolled to the side and opened his bedside drawer. He prepared himself, and as his hands went to her waist, and his fingers lifted underneath the hem of her lace knickers and slid them down, heat filled her centre and she ached for him.

  He moved on top of her. She grabbed his hips, hungry for his skin. She breathed out a moan as his body united perfectly with hers, in confirmation of what had already been united deep within.

  With ease she matched his rhythm, moving together as one. It felt poetic, like their bodies had their own language … their skin the paper, their warm breaths the words, their rhythm the rhyme, as they formed beautiful prose together.

  Time disappeared, the world disappeared, it was only them. Never had she felt so all-consumed, so adored, so exhilarated.