Walls of Fire

11: The Proposal

My blush seared through my cheeks and it seemed like my face was on fire. However, the sensation lasted for even lesser than a minute.

"The silhouettes of the birds look amazing in the warm splash of colours. It appears like an artist's miraculously creation, doesn't it?"

My counter action to his hostility was faster than battering of a thunder in a race with flashing of lights at the time of a bizzare cloudburst. Inverting my head backwards, I noticed the sky and wondered how can the ugliest species of birds, the crows (as considered in Literature) can create a refined artwork of elegance, delicacy, charm and grace. A dozen of birds flying in the sky had fabricated a pulchritudinous heart-shaped pattern across the vibrant coloured blanket of horizon. The only difference was that the colour of the heart wasn't red. It was a concoction of orange, red and yellow tinge. The subsong (gratings of caws and coos and flapping of their wings) sounded like a symphony; the type of symphony which isn't appropriate enough to make a child sleep. It was not a lullaby but the chaos was pleasant in accordance with the romantic setting. Only a person whom you can workship as your lover was absent from the special scene.

Lover. The word rung the bell. I was hypothesized by James's sweetness back then. With this remembrance, my gape got hooked on him.

Mr. Black busied himself with refilling his glass with his stare rooted on me, as if the birds were flying around my face.

Rejecting his amorous (at least that is what I thought) advances, I questioned him gruffly, "And now?"

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his eyebrow.

I seized the glass of wine from the table before the raunchy guy could get his hands on them, and supped the liquor into my system delightedly. "Drinking can be hazardous, isn't it baby?" I winked at him, and waited for his response.

Poor James! He was awestruck, with eyes enthralled at my every move. Licking the last taste of wine from my lips, I placed down the transparent flagon on the table with force, which consequently generated a huge thud sound and called for his attention.

His lips curled into a smirk.

"You're very raunchy. Are you aware of this fact?"

Interlocking his gaze with mine, he positioned his hands on top of mine, and said in an assuring tone, "Aw baby! It must be a factoid because people call me a gentleman."

"You're unbelievable."

"Am I?" He fluttered his eyes and plastered an innocent look.

"Definitely you are!"

His face radiated a smile and I couldn't help myself but laugh.

It didn't take much time for the flirtatious environment to get transformed into humourless.

"Amy, this time I am serious." Even though he withdrew his hands, his piercing eye contact held me in place and provided him the assurance that I was not running away.

"I'm all ears."

"How are you? Are you feeling good now?" His question was repeated again but with a little dissimilarity this time. It, at least, conveyed me the message that he was not up for puns.