Taste Buds

"Oh." He smiled and the room seemed to brighten. "You were harassing me — sexually — again," he admitted with a impish smile. "I couldn't handle it this time."
"You seemed frustrated," I breathed. "Perhaps..."
"Perhaps what?"
"Perhaps you can talk me through the dream — with illustrations... of course — obviously." I leaned into him to whisper in his ear. "I want to make sure that you really can't handle it."
He shook head, grinning wickedly. "Hmm, you sure?"
I nodded.
He sneaked a hand under my t-shirt and teased the waistband of my underwear. "That could be arranged."
I closed my eyes as he leaned into me, his mouth a mere inch from mine.
"Nice try," he said, his eyes filled with humor and he made his way to the bathroom. "I'm planning to keep you that way until —"
"Oh no." I hung my head and closed my eyes. "Please don't tell me I have to wait until I turn eighteen."
He smirked. "No actually."
I sighed in relief. "Good. So why don't we start now?"
His voice was barely audible over the sound of water filling the basin in the bathroom. "I believe we aren't married yet."
I took a breath. "What?"
I heard his chuckle over the water.
"Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work," I told him.
"I'm keeping you a virgin until we get married."
I pursed my lips. "What if I don't want to get married?"
"Then you'll die a virgin," he pointed out.
"Ugh," I groaned, throwing myself back against the bed. I pulled the pillow over my head and kicked the blankets to the floor in frustration.
I felt the bed shift as he sat down. He sighed impatiently, waiting for my tantrum to cease.
"Please don't do this to me," I plead.
He sighed again and took the pillow and threw it to the floor.
"Nuru, I've done so many wrong things in my life. I see this as a way to acute to my sins."
"Oh no," I groaned again.
I pulled his body against mine and locked my legs around his waist.
He struggled to get up.
"No!" I said, locking my arms around his neck. "I'm not letting you go until you give me exactly what I want."
He sighed. "What do you want?"
"You." My face was reasonably steady, which surprised me.
"How exactly do you plan on keeping me here?"
I pushed his body down further against mine.
He groaned and effortlessly pried my arms and legs away from him.
"I would appreciate it very much if you didn't try to make me change my mind." He spoke through clenched teeth.
Roman didn't want me. At least not in the way I wanted him. A numb, dead feeling spread across my heart and turned it ice cold.
"Please look at me at least," he said, voice unrecognisable.
I shook my head, aware of the stubborn set of my chin.
When I opened my eyes Roman was staring at me with a tortured expression.
I tried to ignore the chill that tingled on my hollow stomach.
We didn't say anything to each other for a long time. The silence seemed to intensify as the only sound there was came from the drum of my overreacting heart.
"Say something," he finally pleaded.
"You don't want me." My voice was detached. "What more is there to say?"
"Don't say that, Nuru," he growled at me. "Never say that."
My bottom lip quivered. "Why? It's the truth isn't it?"
He didn't answer for a while. He simply glared at the walls.
"I've never wanted someone as much as I want you." He explained with tense eyes.
I snorted.
He hesitated, his jaw squaring in thought. "Please understand," he pleaded. "I've never had a normal relationship. I've never wanted to kiss a girl before. You won't understand, really.
"I couldn't bring myself to kiss any of the girls I had sex with. It was really just sex. I've held a resentment towards women for so long that I find it... excruciating. The uncontrollable desire to be normal with you. I want to share, everything, even my body with you in a way I've never given myself to anyone before."
Perhaps no one could understand that better than I did. We were alike in that regard. No one, not even one, before him had managed to stir my heart. For a long time I'd feared I didn't have one.
"Please tell me I'm not pathetic," he begged.
"Relax Roman, I know you're not insane. I understand perfectly."
He frowned at me, confused but said nothing.
As we shared the shower together again in the morning, the electric current wrapped us in our own little bubble, where nothing else existed, where nothing else mattered. Just like the night before, it was silent, the only sound came from the shower overhead and my heart crushing against my rib cage.
Normally I thought he was done questioning me but the second we walked into the kitchen, he was at it again. Today his questions were a bit more difficult. He wanted to know the qualities I looked for in a friend, wanted to know why I kept my mother's secret and allowed myself to be an accomplice to murder.
"She's still my mother," I said. "No matter what, I could never ever abandon her. She is all I've ever known and even though she doesn't say it, even though most of the time she seems like a shell. I love her. And as strange as our relationship is, no bond is greater than a mother-child bond — usually. Jennie loves me... I think. In a weird Jennie kind of way. My mother loves me and for as long as I have that faith I will never give up on her."
My confession intrigued him so much that he lapsed into more probing questions, he wanted to know why we didn't bury the body, something I had always asked my mother and so I told him what Jennie had told me — if they can't find a body then there's no evidence that Carmine died and with no body, there are no complications.
The hour it took Roman to finish making me breakfast passed in a blur. He sat my food in front of me on the table and then paused.
"What would you like to drink?"
"What's on the menu?"
"Um," he hesitated where he stood. "Anything you'd like."
"Mhm..."
He watched me carefully as I tried to frame an answer.
"I told you; I'm your personal chef today or any other day you require my services," he reminded me.
"In that case... I'd like a cappuccino," I told him pleasantly.
I picked up my utensils and began eating. My eyes closed as I savoured the taste.