Honey & Spice

by Bolu Babalola

I didn’t think horoscopes were my thing but his eyes really looked like stars and I suddenly wanted to be an astrologer, to learn how to read them as they flashed at me.

I regretted wearing something that showed off my middle. What if the butterflies flew too close to the edge of my stomach, so he could see the imprints of their wings pressed up against my skin?

It was a perfect explosion of sweet and savory, a sublime balance of honey and spice.

My chest had grown a hook for him to hang his smile on whenever he came around.

he caught my eye and stole a heartbeat.

“You are everything, Scotch. I like your mind. I like seeing it work up close. I like your eyes, especially when you’re rolling them at me. Yeah. Just like that. I like how you see things. Adds color to how I see things. I like that when you’re listening to a song you love, you close your eyes and let it take you places. I wanna go wherever you go to.

How something so spicy can be so sweet.

I’d been walking around like I’d swallowed a star: fiery, celestial, delightfully volatile, and beaming everywhere.