Dancing with Shadows

Nine

Jasmine gave a snicker. "Oh, please you sound just like Derick." The sound of his name spoken aloud made Jasmine gasp. She stopped where she was, just two steps above Zeke.

He heard the gasp, but it didn't register that she was thinking of her late husband. No, he heard that gasp and turned thinking that she must have twisted an ankle. The look on her face, however. That look betrayed her thoughts.

What was she doing? Here she was having mind blowing sex with a virtual stranger, and Derick was probably pacing the house worried sick over the way she left that afternoon. She shouldn't have been there to begin with.

"Jazzy?" Zeke broke into her thoughts. He could see her focus on him. He felt his heart stop. He knew that whatever she was thinking, it wasn't going to end well for them. He said what he figured she was thinking of. "Do you want to go home?"

Jasmine didn't want to leave. It made her all the more guilty for wanting to stay here forever. To just forget about her whole life. To just enjoy all the new experiences that Zeke was showing her.

Zeke took hold of Jasmine's hand in both of his, and brought it to his chest. "I can take you home. It's okay."

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Zeke used the pad of his thumb to reach up and wipe it away. "Let's go home," he said making up her mind for her.

Jasmine nodded wordlessly. He attempted to lead her to the door, but she pulled her hand from his grip. "My clothes," she said.

As if Zeke forgot her attire, he blinked at her and looked down at his shirt. "Oh," was all he said. Jasmine turned around and made her way back to the room. As she lifted each foot, her legs felt like lead. Her heart ached like the universe was telling her that she was making a horrible mistake.

She stopped at the door. Her eyes roamed the evidence of their lovemaking. This was it. When she was lonely in that big house, she would remember this room. That bed. The feel of the sheets. The feel of him. Jasmine could feel her lip quiver. She pinched them together and forced herself to go in and gather her things.

Zeke was just behind Jasmine. He waited patiently while she fought whatever demons she needed to. It was bittersweet when she spurred into action. He was sad because he didn't know what would happen next. But at the same time, he watched her lift his shirt from her shoulders and hook it on one of the bed posts before bending over to pick up the bits he stripped from her over the last few hours.

Wanting to keep a little piece of her, he lifted the discarded shirt and pulled it on. Before finding a pair of shorts. Neither said a word as they dressed. They stayed quiet as they went out to the truck. Silence stretched the whole drive back to her house.

Zeke kept glancing over at Jasmine, but the whole while, he never suggested what was really going through his head. He never told her that he didn't want to take her home. He didn't want to spend another minute away from her.

Jasmine stared aimlessly out the window. The sun had already set, and she could easily see Zeke's reflection as the window acted like a mirror to her peripheral vision. She could see every time he chanced looking over at her, and silently wished he would just turn around and just tell her that she didn't have to be lonely any more. That she had no reason to feel guilty for being happy. Each time, he didn't comply.

The next turn would be her street, and Jasmine was dreading every inch they came closer.

Zeke noticed the lights, and slowed. Jasmine noticed the lights and sat up straighter in her seat. She felt like they were at her house, but couldn't imagine why. The u shaped drive was large enough to accommodate many cars. There was hers, her mother's at least four cop cars that she could see, and Zeke's truck came through on the inside bend that was still clear.