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XENIA
Hobo kisses me likea wild man. He doesn’t show off. He just presses his mouth against mine and claims me completely.
I don’t help slow things down. Instead, I throw my arms around his wide shoulders and knock him back onto the grass. With anyone else, I’d be embarrassed by my clumsy lust. Hobo doesn’t waste time judging me. He just wraps his arms around the back of me and deepens the kiss.
All my life, I’ve felt self-conscious. I’ve never really known how to be myself. I’m in my head too much.
With Hobo, I don’t think about what I look like or how I’m behaving. I can’t judge my kissing skills or wish I had worked out more.
As an earthy scent fills the Valley, I hold on to Hobo and think of nothing more than the comfort I find in his arms.
His tongue hungrily probes my mouth. His fingers wrap themselves into my clothes, locking me in his embrace.
In the distance, a rumble of thunder threatens to ruin what is a beautiful, tranquil day.
The noise awakens Hobo from his lusty stupor. He rolls to his side and rests me on the grass. Our lips break apart, yet our bodies remain pressed together.
His blue eyes hold such a peaceful mood when the kiss first ends. He isn’t thinking about anything beyond how good we feel together.
As if awakening from that relaxed splendor, he rapidly blinks until building up to a frown.
“What do you think happens next?” he asks as if I’m sucking the fun out of his life.
“I don’t know,” I admit as my palms soak in the heat of his chest. “That’s the best part. All my life, I’ve wasted the present by focusing on my dreams of the future. Today, with you, I can only see right now.”
“Who do you think I am?” he asks, all snarly frowns and hurt feelings.
“I think I’ve shown I don’t have a clue who you are. I don’t think I care, though. I just want to know you.”
Hobo flashes me a nasty frown as if I’m lying to him. Somehow, I don’t flinch. Men usually intimidate me. Eventually, I created a hard shell around myself, so the staff wouldn’t know they rattled me.
With Hobo, my shell is gone. I’m laid bare. Yet, I don’t fear his angry expression.
I probably should. I don’t know him. He could hurt me.
However, I choose to believe he won’t. I’m certain if I’m patient with Hobo, he will reward me with the warmth I crave.
After watching me for a bit, Hobo’s angry gaze shifts to a blank one. Finally, a smile cracks through his icy demeanor.
“You’re a wacky chick.”
“Not really.”
