Fugitive Love

Waves crashed ashore a meteoric orange beach, sands glimmering as if they were made of flickering embers. The sun's dying rays reflected off the not far-off moonlight silver 1971 Dodge Challenger, casting dramatic colors over the two people perched on the car's hood. The keys jingled faintly in the ignition, the radio churned out music that was too low to be distinct.

"It's over now, isn't it?" the woman, on the passenger side of the car's hood asked, settling in against the windshield, looking up at the dwindling sunrise give way to a placid twilight.

"I guess so." Her companion, a lanky figured man, said hugging his knees closer to his chest.

The full length of her five-foot seven-inch lithe form stretched out comfortably on the car, her mismatched cerulean blue/ heather gray eyes stared up unblinkingly at the peeking diamond pinpricks of stars taking shape above her. She brushed a stubborn stray tuft of her mahogany colored bangs from her gaze and folded her arms behind her head, laced fingers together to make a makeshift pillow. Her black and white horizontal striped shirt stretched and strained against the ample curvature of her body, rising somewhat to reveal the flat, tautness of her stomach. Skinny leg denim of her jeans relaxed against the contours of her toned legs, her ankles were crossed, with one dainty bare foot bobbing against the other.

"Guessing won't do us much good. Not in our...'former' line of work." She unfolded her hands to make air quotes then refolded them, and then rolled over onto her side to face her companion.

She took in the powerfully sinewy form of her companion, her lover. Her motley colored orbs noted he combed his long fingers through his seraphic platinum blonde hair almost compulsively; saw that his strong, box-jaw was tensing up as if he were grinding his teeth. He was uneasy about something. His intense sage green eyes flickered down to her and, almost immediately, his nervous tics ceased. She tugged onto the hem of his faded red Empire Strikes Back T-shirt, dragging him towards her.

“Zion,” she said his name as if it were a question.

“I want to be safe, for both of us to be safe.” He scratched the day old stubble forming at his strong, slightly cleft chin,

“But…” She asked, knowing a “but” was inevitable.

He let out a smile despite looking slightly rattled,

“But, my dear Edin, when we signed up for this line of work, we both knew that there are people who specialize, nay, live to hunt and track down deserters.”

Edin, the sorrel haired woman, pulled him closer; she got up from her side and pressed her deliciously full lips against his. Terns squawked above circling the now darkened sands for whatever the lapping tide dredged up from the fathomless fathoms of the inky black deep. Peaceful, she thought as his calloused palms cupped her round face gently and cradled her head, their bodies pressing against each other tenderly, even if they were here, gunning for us, I wouldn’t change a single thing about this moment.

Her acute hearing caught the chorus of the song playing from the radio: Coldplay's "Spies"

♫And if we all hide here

They're going to find us

And if we don't hide now

They're going to catch us where we sleep

And if we don't hide here

They're going to find us♫

Fitting, she smiled as his thumb smoothed across her jawline and he pulled away from her kiss to gaze deeply into the contrasting gaze, as if to say: I understand, and we’ll be okay. Night fell, and the shimmering pearl of the full moon bathed them in sterling light.

“We better get going,” the pale Zion uttered, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Aww, can’t we stay a bit longer?” Edin whined, smiling sweetly at her lover.

“I guess so.” He shrugged and pulled her against his chest, his fingers interlocked with hers; Edin threw her leg over his and the two runaways sat atop the Challenger unabashed together against the world.

END