John Irvin: Pochatok

There was a desperation there that pleaded to him.

“Please stay with me,” she whimpered. “If that’s okay.”

His thoughts raced. There was only a little protesting from his mind. He realised, he was just too worn out to do anything so what harm could there be?

Nodding in affirmation, he sat down on the side of the twin-sized bed.

It was going to be a tight squeeze, but both occupants didn’t seem to care. The end of the world had just happened above. As far as they were concerned, they were the last survivors of the human race. They needed each other. So they clung to each other as they plunged into a deep slumber, their bodies taxed and ready for a good recharge.

After what seemed like ages, Gideon finally woke up, his eyes opening to the vision of the most beautiful face just inches from his own.

Those baby blues, he’d never forgotten over the past several years, were wide open studying him.

“Good morning,” she smiled, revealing cream-white teeth.

Breathing in deeply, Gideon stretched as he smiled back.

“Morning.”

She smirked at the thickness of his voice. She held her head propped on her left fist while she stroked his jaw with her free hand.

“How long did we sleep?”

“According to that clock on the wall,” she motioned with her chin to an old grandfather clock someone had stashed just a couple feet to the side of the still-open doorway leading into the den. “I slept for about twelve hours. You’ve gone past thirteen hours.”

Gideon raised his eyebrows.

“You’ve been watching me sleep for over an hour?”

Lynda laughed, the sound was angelic music to his ears.

“No, crazy boy,” she responded. “I had to go to the bathroom when I woke up…” Her voice trailed off as she stared deeply into his brown eyes.

He finished for her by saying, “Then you stared at me the rest of the hour.”

She giggled and shook her head.

He loved the flutter that stirred in his chest at that sound. Reaching up, he cupped her cheek with his hand and pushed a strand of that copper-coloured hair behind her ear.

A gasp escaped his lips when she suddenly bent down and covered them with her mouth.

Gideon’s wrists felt like someone had sent a jolt of electricity up his forearm. His toes tingled.

The warm puffs of her breath warmed his upper lip sending a steady flush of blood to his face.

He felt dizzy, but in a good way.

Her lips were moist and bore the smoothness of coconut oil, gliding over his.

A gulp froze in his throat when he felt her tongue knock on his front teeth.

Running her tongue over his teeth in a gentle caress, Lynda was already breathing heavily, her own pulse racing and sending waves of heat across her body.

Gideon smiled and opened his mouth wider, inviting her tongue in.

Once given permission, Lynda’s tongue plunged into his mouth and found his tongue.

Certain he would die from pleasure, Gideon wondered when was the last time he’d been kissed—not to mention, with such passion. Then a depressing thought decided to jump onto this train of musing.

Did she want him? Or did she just want comfort?

He wouldn’t blame her if it was just for comfort, he would totally understand and admit he too would like some comfort. But, for some reason, deep down, he really hoped this was an act of her wanting him for him.

Lynda must have read his mind or noticed a sudden lack of focus on his side of the kiss because she pulled away and opened her eyes. Studying him, she questioned.

“What? Something wrong?”

“No,” he stammered, his head still feeling light and his heart nearly failing to keep up with his pulse. “I just had a thought.”

“What about?”

“Well,” he hesitated. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t do that, Gideon,” she playfully swatted his arm. “Tell me.”

He smiled back at her, brushed another lock of hair out of her face, then sat up with a huff.

“I have a better idea,” he threw the blanket off and swung his feet over the side of the bed before continuing. “How about I make you breakfast? You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

Lynda wore a pouting face as she sat up and crossed her arms. Then, with an exasperated sigh, she shook her head.

“Good,” he grinned. “I’ll make you some.”

“No,” she suddenly yanked on his arm and pulled herself out of bed. Standing up, she pointed at him with her right index finger.

“I’m going to make you breakfast.”

“But I want to make you breakfast,” he frowned, standing up next to her.

She giggled and shook her head.

Before she could leave the room, he grabbed her and drew her back to him, into his arms.

“Let me go,” she struggled to break free.

“I have an idea,” he chuckled as he held on. “How about we both make each other breakfast?”

She paused. Then turning her head to look up at him, she gave one of those heart-melting smiles and nodded.

“Sounds splendid!”

“All right,” he nodded back. Then, letting her free but taking her hand in his, he led her out of the room and down to the kitchen.

Finding several boxes of pancake batter in one of the cupboards, Gideon took one down and started the mixing process. He glanced over to the other side of the kitchen and smiled, watching her was simply breathtaking.

She was making French toast.

“How did you know?” He asked as he poured several spoonfuls of the batter down on a skillet.

“Know what?” She looked up from her work.

“That French toast is my favourite.”

She raised her eyebrows and remarked, “I actually didn’t know, they’re my second favourite. You were making my first favourite already, so I figured I’d make the second.”

“Oh my word,” he blurted out. “Pancakes are your favourite? I didn’t know that either! Did we step into the Twilight zone or something?”

Giggling, Lynda shrugged as she grabbed a spatula and flipped one of the toast slices onto a waiting platter.

Gideon did the same with the first pancake. While he poured the next load of batter on, he piped up.

“So, we have favourite foods down. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Blue, not the common, more like a…”

“Baby blue?” He finished for her, a grin spreading across his face as he met her gaze.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” She raised her eyebrows again.

“Because, weirdly enough, that’s my favourite too,” he chuckled.

“You’re just saying that,” she shook her head, staring back at the French toast sizzling in her skillet.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s all thanks to my having a crush on you in high school.”

She glanced at him.

He cleared his throat, but kept his eyes focused on the pancake turning brown.

“You had a crush on me in high school?”

“Yup,” he smirked. “It started when I sat behind you Freshman year in English class. The way your red hair tumbled down your back. Anyways…” he cleared his throat again, he could feel his blood racing at breakneck speed through his veins.

Lynda tossed the last few toasts onto the platter and picked it up. Setting it on an island counter in the middle of the large kitchen, she stared at nothing in particular.

Gideon joined her, setting his own plate of pancakes down next to her platter. Grabbing two more plates and two sets of knives and forks, he handed her one set then took his seat. Studying her face for a moment, he waited.

She was processing something.

Finally, she cleared her throat and reached for a couple pancakes. Slapping them down on her plate, she asked.

“So,” she paused, her breathing was rapid. “Would you say you still… had this crush?”