His back was drenched in sweat. He could feel it trickling down his spine, coating his shirt till it became sticky with it. He was alone with her, truly alone. His fears were ridiculous. He knew this yet he couldn't stop his body from vibrating with it. Fear was tangible in all its forms, regardless if it was real or imagined.
Saudah was unaware of the thoughts running through his mind. She didn't see the way his hands shook as he wiped his palms on his pants nor the way his breathing had shallowed, ever so slightly, as soon as he closed the door. She didn't know the tumultuous thoughts terrorising his very being nor the way he shut his eyes as he turned around, searching for a second light switch he knew was not there.
He took a deep breath, tapping his leg in time to the countdown in his head.
Ten
Nine
Eight
Seven
Six
Five
Four
Three
T-
"Riyaadh?" he turned around, startled that her voice sounded from right behind him.
"Ya." He had to resist a smile as he took in her tussled hair. It was short- as short as a boy's haircut and right now it stood on end as the static from her scarf still ran through it.
"The hair throws you off a bit, hey?" she ran a hand through her hair, causing it to stand even more, huffing in annoyance at her hair's theatrics.
"A little." He watched as she lifted the thin silver alice-band off her head, pushing it back roughly into place, taming it into submission.
"Ya it threw me off too when I saw it..." she mused, her nose crinkling in memory of it all. "I need you to help me a bit, please." She shook her head, getting back to the task at hand.
"With what?"
She turned slowly, her many skirts brushing softly against the soft wooden floor. "I can't reach my zip." She gestured to the tiny white zip hidden beneath a small fold of material at the base of her neck. "My sleeves are too tight." She shrugged uselessly, turning before he noticed the red tinge to her cheeks.
"Ya, sure..." a sense of déjà vu racked through his entire body. He had been here before... pulling down the stuck zipper to a wedding dress except the woman before him was not Saudah. She had long, brown hair- her curls running wildly down her back reaching the base of her spine. He remembered pulling down that zipper, slowly, savouring every second of it as he exposed more and more of her creamy white skin to him. His fingers could still recall the way her skin felt beneath his touch and the goosebumps that erupted over-
He shook his head, ridding himself of the poisonous thought before he reached for the clasp above the zip. He pulled it apart gently, unhooking the hook from the eye slowly before he moved the little fold of material to the side. The zip was so thin and delicate that it was almost invisible were he not looking for it and he felt as if his fingers would be too big to pull it down. He worked it down slowly, careful not to get it caught in the silky material.
His eyes widened as the top part of her back was exposed...
She wore a white slip beneath her dress but above it, lying between her shoulder blades, was something so sinfully beautiful that he had a hard time pulling his eyes away from it.
"Do you like it?" she could see his face in the mirror before her and she could see the way his eyes kept roving over the henna stamp just beneath her neck.
Riyaadh was sure that the tips of his ears had turned red as he caught her gaze in the mirror, looking down just as quickly. "It looks nice." It looked very, very nice... her skin was the colour of ground cinnamon that glowed beneath the dim overhead light. The simple chain she wore around her neck glittered as the light caught its silver specks, lighting a path down the middle of the intricate pattern painted on her skin.
His knuckles brushed softly against the soft material of her slip as he concentrated on his task of simply lowering her zip. It was a long zip running down the length of her spine and stopping just as her back met the softer skin of her bottom... He didn't go that far though.
He stopped just as he reached her waist, taking a small step back away from her. "Is that okay?"
She turned around, holding the top of her dress to her body. She could barely look at him, too shy to admit the effect that small touch had on her body. "Yes, thank you. I'll manage the rest by myself." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him, trying to hide the nerves that trembled just beneath the surface before she turned and walked slowly to the bathroom.
He breathed out slowly, before opening the side zip of his bag...
God, he needed a smoke
...
He felt at ease as small white spirals of smoke escaped his mouth, drifting higher and higher only to be carried away by the wind. He had grown to love the bitter sting that hit his tongue every time he took a puff, trying to hold the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible. He needed this. He needed it to help expel all the thoughts from his mind. Every breath of bitter smoke took with it another memory that he no longer wanted and he had come to revel in the sensation of it.
He didn't hear the soft taps of her pretty black sandals along the balcony tiles. She had come out of the bathroom, almost deadly afraid to stand before him in what she was wearing. She had psyched herself up so much before walking out the door that she was almost disappointed when he wasn't there anymore.
The cream curtains swayed gently with the breeze, dancing to its soft melody along the white balcony tiles. She walked towards the sliding door, peeking behind the curtain, catching sight of him leaning over the railing. She knew he was a smoker. The dark tinge along his lips bore testament to it but it was interesting watching him actually do it. He looked at peace as he smoked. He always looked as if he had the weight of the whole world on his shoulders even if he pretended not to. But to see him like this, his whole stance was relaxed as he gazed down into the empty blackness. His movements were almost mechanic. She was sure he hadn't even thought about moving his hand to his lips before he took a deep drag nor think about the way his hand moved away as he kept the smoke in his lungs for as long as he could. He simply lived in the moment- lived in the temporary peace that had shrouded around him as if it were a blanket.
He only turned to look at her when he felt her arm brush against his own, before turning his gaze back down to the darkness below.
He hadn't been expecting that.
He hadn't been expecting the hint, the barest hint, of the line between her chest nor the way her thin silver chain ran along that same line. Her deep black nightie was low cut and the bell sleeved gown she wore above it was sheer, baring her arms and shoulders to him.
"You look peaceful like this."
His lips tilted up, before he took another drag, blowing the smoke away from her. "You don't mind." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. If she minded, she would have stayed by the door.
She shook her head, rolling her shoulders as if just realising how stiff they felt. "My dad smokes."
"Really?"
"Almost three packs a day." She felt a pang of sadness wrench her gut at the thought of her home. Her home wouldn't really be her home anymore... her room wouldn't be her room. Her parents would be locking up tonight. They wouldn't have her to do it anymore. They'd go to sleep without kissing her on her cheek and they'd forget the combination to the alarm because they could never seem to get it right till she switched it on for them. She wouldn't walk into the cloud of smoke that descended upon her father's study when he sat to work- his pen in one hand and his cigarette in the other neither would she wake up to the cluttering of dishes as her mother went about making breakfast for her and her father because she would forever be too late to make it herself.
But she had cried enough tears for one night as she left the safety of her home one last time- as she left as just their daughter. She was still just their daughter when she left and watching her father tear up had only caused the ache in her heart to grow and fester until it had culminated into little droplets of water that had run down her cheeks are rivulets.
"Marlboro or Stuyvesant?"
"He's a Marlboro man, through and through." She liked his voice. It was soft but scratchy as if he needed to clear his throat. But she liked the way he spoke even more. He was gentle and polite and never rude nor condescending.
"I guess we have something in common." She could hear the smile in his voice. He hadn't turned to look at her since the first time yet she could still make out the hint of red along his neck as he continued to look down at the darkened garden below.
"He'd be thrilled to hear that." She stood up straight, making her way to the large wicker chair before the door. "Do you want to sit with me?" she asked, shifting up to the side. She saw his hesitation, noticed it in the way his back tensed and his shoulders stiffened. She waited, biting her knuckle as she lifted her right foot to rest on the edge of the seat.
"Is there enough space?" he asked, turning his head only enough to look at her.
"Yeah, more than enough." She shifted even more till her thigh pressed into the side, leaving it's criss-cross imprints on her skin. She watched him walk slowly, almost cautiously toward the chair with his cigarette and ash tray in one hand. He sat down, on the other side, leaving enough of a gap between them for the little squared marble bowl before he raised the cigarette to his mouth, inhaling almost desperately. "See, more than enough."
She smiled slightly as she saw wisps of smoke escape the side of his mouth as he tried not to laugh, his lips turning up into a proper smile this time.
She looked at him, really looked at him this time, beneath the soft glow of the outdoor light. She knew she liked his voice but now there was one thing about him that she liked even more.
She hadn't seen it before, but when he smiled, a dimple carved its way into his left cheek. It was so deep and cute that he looked boyish in his smile. She didn't want to tell him that she liked his dimple just yet... She didn't know him well enough but it didn't mean that she wouldn't think of a thousand different ways to get him to smile again if only to see it a thousand more times.
She didn't mind if he didn't know what to say. She was just as lost for words as he. She was content just to sit with him, listening to the soft sounds of the sprinklers below and the happy tune of the crickets as they sang crazy love songs to their beloveds.
She actually didn't mind it at all.