Her skirts were silk, her waist corseted into submission. Her hair, styled perfectly, was long and blonde. She had skin like buttermilk, like porcelain. Her hands were dainty and her nails clipped.

He wore pants cuffed at the ankles. His skin was a light brown with freckles along the lose, sandy hair unkempt. His grin was lopsided and sloppy.

It was forbidden. It was impossible. It was terrifying, exhilarating. It lit her up and burned her from the inside out.

They met at night, at the market. She kept her head down, and he placed his hand under her chin. He smiled at, and she felt fireworks explode in her chest. She did not hear his words, only the soft hum of his voice, better than the greatest composers. She did not speak, lest it would break the spell that encased them. When she blinked, she saw the people, saw their eyes, watching and pretending not to.
?She bolted.

The next day she saw him, she said nothing. He tried to speak, and she pretended not to hear- pretended that every fiber of her being was not pulling towards him. She just lowered her head and kept walking.

The temptation was like a flame, growing, feeding on itself, destroying her. ??She broke.

They met in secret. At first her words were clipped, her face guarded. He looked at her and saw a wall, impenetrable. She would not let him touch her, lest he leave marks on her skin, proof of the unspeakable.

One night, he held her hand in both of his. She tried to pull away, but found she could not. She leaned towards him, hungry for his touch. She felt like she had been starving, and now, she was being fed.

Words passed through their first kiss, unspoken.

I love you,

I want you,

I need you.

When it was over, she did not speak. She stood, shaky, and she ran away as fast as she possibly could.

After that, they did not see each other for a long time.

One night, late, she went to their old meeting place. He sat there, half illuminated by fading moonlight, smoking a cigarette. The flame danced brightly.

They both saw each other and pretended not to, he watching the soft sway of her hips, she the cloud of his exhale. She walked over, her feet crunching over the grass, and sat down beside him. They did not speak for a long, long time, but they were so close they could hear each other’s heartbeats.

She shattered the silence, “Let’s go away.”

And so they did- left without a trace. She left a book open on her bedside table, he left a deck of cards splayed out across his floor. Her apartment remained undiscovered for centuries, pristine.