Rich Girl Poor Girl

Chapter 6

Sparrow knew it was him when someone tapped on her door at 5:45 the next evening; everybody just barged in around Haven.  Only Thomas would knock.

Punctual and elegant in black cargo pants and a black fitted tee, the sight of him made her senses dance as she opened the squeaky door.  "Hey," she greeted him, feeling a pulse already in her neck, and a warmth in her belly that revealed exactly how much she'd been excited for their date.

Not a date.  Friends, remember?

With his eyes dark in the late summer afternoon light, he absorbed her appearance while stepping forward.  "Hey.  You look beautiful."

He kissed her once on the cheek, softly, a perfectly platonic kiss.  So why did it explode against her skin, her needy body eagerly begging for more?  Shaking her head, she thought, I have to get a grip.  "Thanks."

His eyes roamed around the front rooms, with the dirty carpet and graffitied walls.  Sparrow remembered he hadn't seen inside Haven the previous day, and he seemed to catalogue the lack of TV and bookshelves made of driftwood.  "Your home...  It's very you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she grinned.

"Good.  I meant it to be."

"The others are already down at the beach – let's go."

"Wait, I have something for you."  He produced a bouquet of hand-picked flowers from behind his back.  "They're not bought, I didn't think you'd like that.  The guest-house where I'm staying has beautiful front gardens, and the guy next door, he grows these."

Pointing at the stunning red bloom in the centre of the bunch, Thomas said, "He saw me picking, and gave me one.  Eric is a cool old guy, actually.  We had a few beers over lunch today.  Anyway, I hope you like them."

She touched the scarlet lily, with two flowers open and two yet to reveal themselves.  Her breath hitched as she tried not to feel swept away by the simple gesture.  "Thank you," she said, her voice quiet.  "They're gorgeous."

Looking up, she saw how close Thomas was, how the final rays of the setting sun through the windows cast them both in a fiery hue, as if they flamed for one another.  Her policy of living a life of yes meant that with any other guy, Sparrow would have kissed him at that moment, to know how he tasted, to entwine their energy.

But Thomas isn't a normal guy, and I have to be smarter than that, or there's only going to be hurt in the future for us.  "I'm going to put these in some water," she said, pulling away, feeling the tug of their twisted emotions draw between them.

Racing into the kitchen, she slid the stems into an old pasta jar, then drank deeply from her own glass.  The water settled her.  She was an earth sign, and water settled earth.  Earth could even benefit from fire, able to withstand the heat, and give fire the grounding it needed.

Earth does not do well with air.  The man in her lounge room was as strong an air sign as she'd ever met; ungrounded, unattached, untamed.  I need to remember it.  She slapped the glass on the bench top and she was ready.  "Thomas?  Let's go!"

She led him through the house and out the back door, grabbing her long canvas bag from beside the back door.  They picked their way along the ragged garden path, trying to avoid looking at the swing where they'd kissed the day before, and through the tired wooden gate in the corner of the yard.  As Sparrow twisted through, her short black skirt caught on a splintery paling. 

"Here, let me get that."  Thomas reached out and deftly loosened the fabric, his fingers dangerously close to her upper thighs.  Beneath her simple black tank, she could feel her body reacting at his nearness, her nipples hardening.  Thank God it's almost dark.