“Delilah,” he crooned, hooking his fingers in her cocao corkscrew ringlets. She shook her head and he pulled away abruptly, frowning so hard he had dimples. Her tight grip on the steering wheel made her knuckles pale hite.

“Was that a yes?” he tried again, bobbing his head and opening his baby blue eyes wide; making something out of nothing. He look like a complete idiot.. a very alluring idiot.

Delilah sniffed, pulling at her earrings nervously. “I don’t know.”

“As in..” he assumed, and began visibly jumping up and down with anticipation.

She let her hands fall in her lap. “As in, no, James,” she said.

His careful composure fell with a crash and a bang. His fist, too, fell down and slammed on the dashboard. The radio skipped a beat.

As she always did when he temper boiled over the edges, Delilah inhaled deeply, as if to take in all his rage.

He swore loudly.

It would seem it had not worked—she simply had gotten two lungs’ full fill of summer’s bitter sweet evening breeze.

View this story's 1 comments.