Page 113 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
How have I been without him? How can I ever be again?
“You don’t need to be honored or grateful,” I say, holding him tightly. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
“I would wait forever, darling. You look delicious in this suit. I hope I’ll get to peel it off of you later tonight.”
Heat burns in my cheeks as I pull him in, even closer. “You can do more than that.”
“Excellent. I have to go back downstairs, but I wanted to see you. I couldn’t wait any longer.” He unwraps me from his embrace, and I take the opportunity to quickly grab and present my flowers in their brown paper wrapping.
“Congratulations on a successful run,” I say. “You did it.” I’ve kept up with some theater and entertainment magazines online because they often post articles about Aries. He’s unquestionably making his mark in the costume design industry.
He takes the flowers, brushing my fingers as he does so and sending tingles up my arms. He pulls the bouquet up to his nose and inhales deeply. “Peonies from my love. Thank you.” Aries dips and kisses my lips once more. “I’ll come back here for you once the performance is complete. Wait for me?”
He backs up toward the curtain, watching and grinning in that suave way I’ve missed. That elegant confidence.
“I’ll wait for you,” I tell him. “Always.”
Immediately following the show, Aries guides me backstage to his office, which also functions as the wardrobe closet. I wander around the romantically lit room in awe, marveling at all the intricate costumes and luxurious fabrics hanging on freestanding racks and bust forms. I also take note of the giant, impressive vase filled with pink peonies set on the table just inside the door. The room is perfumed with their sweet scent, but gently intermingled with Aries’s earthier essence. Looks like my bouquet choice was spot on.
We have dinner with everyone at a fancy restaurant near the theater, but Aries’s apartment is situated in Città Alta, overlooking the sprawling lights and sparkle of the lower city. The mountains around us are dark, heaping shapes, but there are flecks of light scattered throughout from neighboring houses and buildings. “This view is beautiful.”
“Wait until the sun rises,” he says, moving toward the double doors, which are heavily carved and laden with iron accents. “The view will take your breath away.” He unlocks one side and pushes it open. I peek past him and see an intimate courtyard drenched in moonlight.
“You take my breath away,” I admit, following him inside. It’s embarrassing for me to say these things, but it’s how I feel.
“I’ve missed you. Truly. Achingly.” He tilts his head to kiss me and I lift, meeting him and wrapping a palm around his neck. I don’t know what’s happening inside of me, but it’s almost painful, how badly I want to be closer to him.
When we were together before, I was always restraining myself. Worried, apologizing and insecure. Constantly being polite. I don’t want to be shy and hesitant anymore.
A lot has changed in the year that we’ve been apart. I know that I still have a long way to go, but I can take care of myself now—cooking, cleaning and picking out my own clothes. I’ve worked really hard as an apprentice, which has allowed me to earn more independent assignments. I’ve been able to save money so that I don’t need to rely on anyone else financially.
My nature feels as if it’s about to implode because it’s so tired of me suppressing and denying it. Can I have him and be free now? Is he still afraid of being addicted to me, or can I finally indulge these desires and this hunger I feel?
The answer feels like “no” when he suddenly pulls away from the kiss, and I sigh. He must register my discontent because his brow furrows as he cups my face.
“What is it?” he asks. “You seem restless, suddenly. Are we alright?”
“It’s nothing,” I lie. “We’re alright.”
“Hm…” He takes hold of my hand and pulls me through the moonlit courtyard full of leafy plants bowing and swaying gently with the nighttime summer wind. The sidewalk beneath our feet is cobblestoned and we pass a trickling, artsy fountain. The small pool of water reflects the stars above in the clear sky.
This place is much more picturesque in person compared with the images he’s sent me. The villa is owned by the opera house, but they’re hosting Aries here as part of his contract.
“Have you decided whether or not to renew your position here?” I ask as he unlocks a second door. This one is framed by a cluster of vines teeming with waxy leaves.
“I have not. I’m weighing my options.”
“The offer from the theater in Milan is a bigger opportunity, right? Teatro alla Scala is world renowned.”
“Yes, but as you know, I don’t do this because I wish to chase fame. There are more important things for me to consider.” He turns to glance at me as the door clicks open. “Shall we have a glass of wine? You were so popular at dinner tonight, I feel as if I haven’t had a moment to truly soak you in for myself.”
“Sure,” I say, trailing behind him. He flicks a switch and the space glows in low, well-placed lighting so that the atmosphere feels calming and insulated. Natural and rustic with modern influences.
The high-beamed ceiling is painted eggshell while the walls are dark wood. White accents and furniture brighten the room—two plush sofas separated by a round coffee table. A thick beige rug is set against the worn wooden planks of the floor. The centerpiece of the space is a fireplace made with what looks like boulder stones.
What gradually becomes more apparent to me is that there are vases full of peonies artfully but strategically placed all throughout this room, too. There’s a giant vase on the coffee table. Another on the kitchen counter, then a third on the sink, near the window. Even here, just beside the door on a small entry table, sits a fourth vase. All of the bouquets are fresh and fragrant, as if they’ve recently been replenished.
I think… I may have underestimated how much he likes this particular flower?
