Petal [h.s.]

THIRTY-FOUR - MOTH TO A FLAME

"What are you running from?"

He was staring at the ceiling, laying on his back. I studied his features-his dark wavy hair, unruly from our previous activities; his long, straight, strong nose; his rose colored lips. He didn't look at me when I spoke the words, he just blinked and parted his mouth as he sighed.

"Everything." He whispered, "Everyone."

I lifted a hand up and reached it over toward him. I ran my fingertip down from his forehead, along the bridge of his nose, over his lips to his chin. His eyes fluttered shut as I did this, a soft humming sound releasing from his throat. When I got down to his chin, he tilted his head toward me and his eyes opened. All I could see was a gorgeous shade of sea glass green. I let my hand rest on his bare chest, right in the center as he searched my face.

"Why?" I whispered.

"I did something really bad." He whispered with a sigh, "Something I don't talk about with anyone."

I moved my hand up over his chest until it was resting over his heart. It was beating rapidly, as if he were nervous. I rubbed in gentle circles to soothe him, "Your secrets are safe with me."

His eyes flickered down to my lips, "Promise?"

"I promise." I nodded firmly, keeping my eyes locked with his.

"I've been a spoiled, egotistical, drug-addicted brat since I was a teenager." His nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath, "My father is obsessed with image. Everything always had to be perfect with my family, but especially with me. He wants me to take over his business, he wants me to become him-to have a perfect family, a perfect image, a perfect life. My future has always been laid out for me. Every step that I take has been carefully calculated by my father. I can't mess up. I can't let anyone see me as anything other than calm and happy, but I developed a drug problem. Mostly pills... anything that would get me high and feeling numb."

I listened patiently. I didn't want to tell him, but this was nothing I hadn't heard before. A lot of men came here with similar stories, used me as a therapist for the night and then disappeared, never to be seen again. They had all done horrible things and they were all running from something. They generally volunteered the information to me willingly, but he hadn't. I had to ask him.

Everything felt different with him. I didn't know how to explain it and I didn't know why. I wanted to hear what he'd been through. I wanted to hear what made him come here. I wanted to know why he picked me out of everyone that was here. I was intrigued by him, drawn to him-like a moth to a flame that would eventually set it on fire. That was me. A dumb moth, fluttering blindly, getting too close, ready and willing to burst into flames for an ounce of his warmth.

He turned his body toward mine, until our faces were lined up perfectly. He wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me in close to him, almost like he was scared I'd get up and leave when I heard his secrets. He didn't know that I couldn't move if I tried. I was glued to him. His hand drew lazy patterns against my bare back as he looked over me.