Look But Don't Touch

by Olivia Hayle

But… if Ada was here, under my command, she’d have to heed me. I didn’t think she’d ever taken orders in her pretty, manicured little life. Perhaps this could even be fun, tormenting her at her own expense.

"‘Well-arranged time is the surest sign of a well-arranged mind.'" I hadn't even finished before I heard Grant's laughter. It was deep and rich, and I knew instantly that I would need to hear it again. Find a way to spark it, somehow.

I hated that I liked the way it sounded, the two of us, spoken in her voice. This inane infatuation needed to stop.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle! Parlez-vous français?” “Un peu.” Ada laughed. “Alors, nous voudrions une bouteille d'eau plate et une bouteille de vin blanc, le Sancerre, s'il vous plaît. Je prends le magret de canard et il aura le même. Pour ce monsieur, le poisson du jour. Et pour l'homme à côté de moi"—here Ada indicated me with a grin to the waiter—“steak avec des pommes de terre.” “Super,” the waiter said, scribbling on his notepad. “Comment le monsieur aimerait-il son steak?” “Medium-rare. Il a des normes très strictes.”

“Bon soirée, mademoiselle et monsieur,” the waiter told us as we left the restaurant. “Vous faites une tres beau couple.”

Grant's eyes sparkled, and I felt like the champagne, all bubbly inside.

“I’m not a precious artifact,” I whispered. “You can both look and touch.”

“No one can hear you but me,” he said, and I felt the warm breath of his voice against sensitive skin. “I want to hear you scream.”

Somehow everything circled back to her, like she was the Rome all roads lead to.

The idea that she might turn those luminous, shining eyes on someone, to lean in and whisper in their ear… They didn't deserve her. None of us unlucky sons of bitches did, and I least of all, but I wasn’t about to let her go off with one of them.

“I haven’t been able to think about anything else but you, not since the storage room,” I murmured. “Me neither. It’s been bad for my productivity.” He smoothed my hair back, moved closer, and then he was kissing me.

Instead, it stirred within me a desire to be consumed entirely by her flames. A madman, that was what she had made out of me. Delirious and desirous.

It’s an odd thing, when a storm has passed, leaving the weather once again calm. But it’s wrecked everything in its path. Moved things around, rearranged trees and rocks and fences until the landscape is the same but the features forever altered.

Sometimes you had to hurt in order to heal. It would undoubtedly be painful.

you had to reach out and take what you wanted. The world would never give you anything.