dark side of the moon; antonia

[Antonia]

Few thousand miles and an ocean away,
but I see the sunrise, just like the other day.

  The wayward wind has already begun to churn the sea, stirring it from its once quiet serenity – pulling it up, and drawing it back, creating a friction that produces a thick, frothing foam, which envelopes her skin, dampening it with the salty brine of the ocean. A shiver traverses the length of her spine, but she is uncertain as to whether it is because of the soft mist draping over her, or if it is because of the way he seemingly traces her faintly feminine curves, or the dark plane of her features – until his two-toned gaze is settled onto her own, a deep hazel – speckled with gold.

  A faint, yet self-assured smile pulls at the corner of her mouth – dark, but there is a glint of mirth within the shadow of her eyes. Quietly, she presses past him, encircling him to come around to his right-hand side, aligning the slight curve of her hip in with his, with her petite shoulder lined up with his own. Her teeth gently tug and pull at his tangled tresses, which lay haphazardly against the thick muscle of his neck – undoing a taut, wiry knot with careful precision, before laying it still against where his pulse is heavy and loud from the steady rhythm of his heart.

  ”You don’t have to be anything more than you are right now,” she murmurs, casting a glance out towards the darkened waters that lay ahead – a plethora of dense, folding clouds looming off somewhere in the distance. There is a gentle rumbling in the sky, but she does not recoil against him – instead, a thread of excitement thrums within her wildly beating heart, yearning for the promise of heavy rain, for a powerful tempest to take hold of the too-still, too-quiet volcanic island.

  Then, softly, ”My name is Antonia. What is yours?”

Antonia