Cryptic, I wanted to try something new.

Inevitabilities

Falling; it had many definitions.

To come down freely.

To drop or be dropped.

To give into temptation.

He had fallen.

So had she.

And it was the inevitable collision, the clash of objects that had diverted their attention.

The first year had been different, fun, careful and designed to be a challenge, a game.

Naturally, she had won.

No-one had noticed the kiss he pressed to the nape of her neck that day, the hand caressing the curve of her hip. Just to get even.

Except for her.

And he had noticed the imprint of her teeth on her bottom lip and the beads of sweat gathering on her forehead.

Later, she had gotten her revenge.

Sweet revenge, it was rather pointless but they had enjoyed it.

And there was an extra swagger in her walk that day that he didn’t fail to notice.

Define soulmates.

She had asked him that one day, out of the blue.

Of course, being commitment phobic he had given her an answer that was nonsensical; not making sense.

She had walked away, adding to the sweet torture that was his everyday life now.

The second year, they upped their game.

But the rules were still there.

Rules were made to be broken.

Even in their own heads it sounded wrong.

But they had broken them.

When early in the morning she had picked the lock on his front door and slipped inside.

Waking up and seeing her face hovering over him.

He had thought he was the luckiest man alive.

She was holding back.

He could tell.

But why?

He saw the resignation in her eyes.

But resignation of what?

He made his mind to ask her the next day.

She reverted back to her normal self before he had a chance.

Made her comeback by engaging in banter intertwined with sexual innuendo.

Just like before.

They were friends, and something more.

They both agreed to the game.

They both played the game.

So why had it changed?

The change was subtle but they both noticed it.

Neither were willing to back down, neither wanted to lose.

A year ago, he was content to let her win.

Just for the chance to make her squirm.

She would retaliate of course but that made everything seem so much better.

The third year was changed.

Their relationship was strained and the game seemed to have died.

He didn’t torment her and she didn’t torment him.

Everything changed past the point of no return.

Their game couldn’t continue.

So they stopped.

And surprisingly he missed her.

Not the teasing, not the banter, not the excitement, not the sweet torture she inflicted on him.

Simply her.

And it confused him.

Their game started again.

This time it was different, more subtle.

Like the hand he placed on her hip while at a beach party.

Her soft gasp as skin hit skin was like music to his ears.

She looks like a fairytale.

As her red silk dress rustles around her long legs, her hair smelling faintly of cinnamon.

She was an aphrodisiac.

He could look but he couldn’t touch, couldn’t hold.

Couldn’t call her his.

It was then when something in him snapped.

They were dancing.

Holding her close, staring into her eyes.

It was like something in a romance novel and it couldn’t be more perfect.

He holds her even closer if possible.

Whispers into her ear, her curly hair brushing the side of his face as they move around the dance floor.

It’s perfect for one night he thinks and tomorrow everything will go back to the way it was before.

She’s cautious like that and it causes a now familiar twinge in his heart.

But things move on.

And the next morning he finds her asleep next to him.

Still smelling like cinnamon with the sunlight filtering from the window.

He can hold her, he can touch her.

He can call her his.

Just for a while.

She wakes up and he commits the image to memory.

Tousled hair, golden skin, the smell of cinnamon, sparkling eyes.

His aphrodisiac.

How did it get this way?

They were at an airport and she was about to leave his life forever.

“I’ll miss you.”

Her lips curl up slightly in a small smile which doesn’t quite fit the moment.

And they both stare at each other, trying to prolong the moment that she would leave.

Until he can’t stand it and catches her in his arms.

She tastes like strawberries and chocolate and he doesn’t want to stop.

But the inevitable happens.

He watches her walk away into the unknown and wonders what his life would be like without her.

Falling, collision, inevitability.

He had known the day she walked into his life, all wide eyed and innocent.

And yet he had failed to do the one thing he had wanted to do the moment he met her.

I love you.

He remembers the tousled hair, golden skin, smell of cinnamon, sparkling eyes.