Hues of Love

Salmon

SALMON

Blush crept into peach cheeks. Marya did not even notice the warmth return. It quietly slipped in, was barely hinted at, only noticed at times such as when he had her chocolate chip java ready at their table, or that time when he brought two straws instead of one (and she had embarrassedly declined).

Peter did not press. He just smiled when salmon blotted her face, and produced a back-up java for himself. Some nights he read to her, and his voice was like a melody.

She didn't know what she was thinking about when those thoughts entered her head. Marya did not realize that despite closing up her heart, she had left the door unlocked.

But Peter did not just walk in with a brusque knock of the door. No, he tested the door knob. It twisted under his hand, but he did not enter. In fact, he backed further away. He set up a campfire outside and waited for a day when she would invite him in.

It was final's week when he shocked her. Peter confessed, in fact, Marya almost did not notice - for he had slipped his declaration in between two rather ordinary snippets of conversation. But while he spoke almost dismissively, he had held her gaze.

Marya turned salmon.

He smiled and told her he would wait for an answer, and continued to drill her in calculus.