- Text Size +
“Tell me again,” she whispers into his auburn hair, her lips butterflies along his jaw line.

The way her eyes glisten make him want to change the world so that it wouldn’t hurt her anymore.

“You’re everything,” he responds, his lips a smile miles long as his lips press into hers.

Her fingers draw tiny hearts along his arm and she giggles. He sighs into her twisted hair and gazes into her lust filled eyes with a passion he has never known. Rain pattles against the window as the moon glows behind the sheer curtains, allowing moonlight to dance across the comforter in vertical stripes.

“Tell me a story,” she utters as the clock flickers midnight.

“A story?”

“A story,” she giggles again and he unintentionally melts.

There is a sweet, blissful smile as the moonlight trickles against his cheek, and she feels a flame burn within her fingertips as they run along his neck, shoulder, arm and fingers until this intertwine like ivy on their white picket fence.

“There was a boy,” he began, his body shifted toward hers, his nose lovely millimeters from her own and fiddles within her gleeful curls.

“What’s his name?” she interrupts with a naivety amongst her and smiles like a little girl.

“Let’s call him Tom,” he says.

“I like that name.”

“Well, Tom was just a young boy,” he says. “He never understood the ways of the world and how things worked. As he got older, he experimented with things, trying to see what was worthwhile.”

“What did he do?”

“He tried different jobs, moved to different places, made different friends. But all the while, as the years went by, he couldn’t find himself in these places and relationships.”

“Yeah?” She whispers, her green eyes intent on his. He smiles with a satisfaction this woman is his, his, his and shudders with the silent understanding that he has never felt this content.

“Finally, one day, he gave up.”

Her breath gets caught in her throat and she looks worried. He gently runs his fingers across her tender pink lips and feels lightheaded as hovers his lips over hers.

“But then, he found someone.”

Her eyes grow wide with anticipation; a newfound excitement clutches her thoughts as she scrunches closer into his embrace, her eyes on his. Her brown locks swathe her satin pillow and he twists his finger around one, looking at it in amazement.

He presses his lips to her forehead, nose, cheek, lips, then whispers, “I found you.”

The golden specks deep within her iris’s glow with delight and suddenly they envelope each other in an unhesitating passion.

Eight minutes and thirty-two seconds later, they lay in each others arms, giggling quietly and feeling as if everything they have considered their relationship to be was nothing but a mere dream.

She’s so easily convinced by his voice and the weight of his body against him and the way his breath glides over his skin. She runs her hand down his arm and pushes her forehead against his neck, sighing contently, and she almost forgets what it even feels like to be afraid.

They wake up in taut sheets, their eyes unknowingly opening themselves to a new day’s sun. They silently watch the early morning sun move, rising gracefully up and up, turning the world rose colored. There’s ecstasy in her curls catching the light and the air, flames licking at his face, promising to burn. He closes his eyes again. His arm has lost its feeling from the weight of her body, but his fingers still feel themselves all tangled up in hers. They tighten and release, tighten and release.

She turns toward him. His name dribbles off her tongue as she gently collapses on his chest, a deep breath cultivating within his slumbered lungs.

He glances out the window to a morning sky that seems too vociferous. He tightens his fingers around her small ones as she drifts away, overcome by a sleepiness she knew all too well. He peers down at her angelic form and wonders, “why?” He wasn’t known to be a lucky-kind-of-guy. He was the goofy one who tripped up the stairs. He was the brokenhearted one who drank half a dozen beers to blur the memories of an uncanny kiss. He was the guy who never had it his way no matter how many times he wished on stars or prayed for something more.
So when color rushes through her pale cheeks and her body wriggles under taut bed sheets, he aches for a reason as to why this sprig of luck was thrust upon him.

They are each other’s miracles.
Chapter End Notes:
Hope you enjoyed it! :)


Dwangie is the author of 25 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 3 members. Members who liked Picket Fence also liked 1230 other stories.


You must login (register) to review or leave jellybeans