Page 10 of The Art of Professing Love

Carefully, I lifted his arm off of me and slid out of bed. I closed the curtains so the morning light wouldn’t wake him and slipped outside as silently as I could to watch the remainder of the sunrise.

The sky was painted in different shades of orange and pink and purple and blue, all blending into each other while the light danced over the treetops. A bird flew past, no doubt off on a journey to find breakfast for her little family of nestlings. A deer looked up from the dew-coated field, her mouth full of grass. She stopped chomping for a second to stare at me. I stared back, smiling when she returned to eating her breakfast, unbothered by her audience.

I crossed my arms as the morning chill settled into my bones. A smarter man would have put on some clothes, but I never claimed to be very clever, and I preferred spending time outside with as little clothing on as possible. It brought me closer to my roots when all faefolk stayed out of the burgeoning cities. Besides, the cold would never take me. It could make me shiver, but I was immune to its freezing death grip that caused so many problems for humans.

As the animals got on with their day and the sun breached the tall evergreens, washing the entire field in bright, yellow light, I glanced back at the cabin door. I wanted Irving to stay. I wanted to show him the beauty of my world. I wanted him to open up to me and show me his little corner of the world.

He was too set in his ways, though. He’d already made up his mind that a relationship with a fae wouldn’t work. We were too different from each other. I knew what my cousin would say: opposites attract. We were opposites, that was true, but we hardly got along as it was, and neither of us was willing to change enough to make it work.

“Maybe,” I said to myself, “just maybe I could convince him to stay for breakfast, though. And a little dessert afterward.”

I smiled again. Yes, that would be the perfect way to start the day.

8

IRVING

Istirred in bed. The mattress was softer than usual – downy, almost. The covers felt strange as well, and when my eyes fluttered open, the room was brighter than I was used to. The curtains next to the bed billowed in the wind filtering through the open window. I’d forgotten to close it last night.

Except, I didn’t have a window next to my bed. I didn’t have a patchwork quilt either, and I certainly didn’t live in a log cabin. I sat up straight, the blanket falling off the bed into an unceremonious heap on the floor, and looked around.

“Fuck me,” I mumbled, rubbing my tired eyes gently. “What did I do last night?”

The library, my date, Sylvan…It all came back to me in a harsh, crashing wave. Mysteriously, I didn’t regret my lust-driven decisions of the previous night. Sylvan and I had fun together. I didn’t plan on doing it again, but it was pleasant and I wouldn’t forget it for quite a while.

I got up, put my glasses on, and looked around the room for any sign of Sylvan. His clothes were still on the floor next to mine, the bathroom was dark and the door was ajar, and the kitchen sink still contained our empty teacups from last night.

There was only one other place he could be. I slipped my pants on, taking care to smooth out the wrinkles from the floor before they took hold permanently, and stepped out onto the front porch. There Sylvan stood buck-naked, watching the sun as it climbed higher in the sky. In the distance, fog encircled the snow-capped mountains and trees swayed in the wind.

“Beautiful,” I said, approaching behind him.

“Thank you,” he replied.

“I meant the view.”

“I know.”

We stood in silence for a few more minutes before he turned around to greet me with a kiss. I shrank away before he could reach me, eyeing him up and down.

“Put some clothes on,” I told him.

“Why?” Sylvan shrugged. “There’s no one else out here besides you and me, and you certainly don’t care after last night…do you?”

I shook my head. I had no interest in fighting a losing battle over a few pieces of clothing. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Would you care for some dandelion coffee? I made it myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay any longer. I have a class to teach in about…” I checked my watch. “One hour, which means I’m going to be late if I can even manage to get out of this labyrinth at all.”

Sylvan put his hands on my arms, dragging me closer. “Relax, Irving. Why don’t you just call in sick? I used to do that all the time when the day was too beautiful to spend inside a classroom.”

“I can’t do that,” I replied stiffly, shaking his hands off. “I doubt I’ll see you again Sylvan, but thank you for last night. I certainly won’t forget it.”

Sylvan looked disappointed, but he didn’t protest. “I’ll get the rest of your things inside the house and then I’ll show you how to get back to town.”

“I would appreciate that.”

I waited impatiently outside, tapping my foot on the wood planks of the porch. Sylvan returned a few minutes later with my clothes, which I slipped on quickly.

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