The Unsettling Calm

Inside the Simmonds house, the air seemed to weigh something she couldn quite name. It was the kind of weight that made the floor colder under bare feet, the drapes seem heavier, and the silence in the corners thrum like a whisper. With her knees tucked beneath the desk, sketchpad opened out over her legs,

 Zelene lay back on the comfortable chair in her small home office. She had been staring at the blank page too long, pencil poised yet motionless. 

Her honey-blonde hair brushed her cheek, but she ignored a stray strand. Her brain was not in the room. Though her palm moved on instinct rather than intention, the tiny scratching sound of graphite against paper finally returned.

Strong, broad shoulders, a thin waist, the dip of a powerful jawline, the shadow of eyes she hadn't really seen but couldn't forget emerged from the lines. 

Her eyebrows united. She stopped, raised the sketchpad gently, and peered at it with delayed realization that unsettled her. damian. 

His form had slid onto the page like smoke dancing across her mental fissures. Uninvited. Not desired. Undoubtedly. Under her breath, she murmured, " seriously?," throwing the pad aside onto the ottoman. Her fingers went twitch. Not only was her new neighbor shockingly beautiful, but his presence hung on her skin even when he was not close-by. 

 A perfume. a tug. a type of gravity that made her feel unbalanced. 

Rising to her feet, she stretched her arms over her head and felt the hem of her loose-fitting shirt slink slightly above her waist. The room was dark, shadows created by the tall bookcases where dusty spellbooks she had never bothered to open relics of her grandmother's odd existence mixed with old design magazines. Her eyes flew over the window. Though it was golden and heavy with afternoon warmth, light came in and did not help to drive off the discomfort clinging to the house. 

Bare feet lightly padding against the warm wood floor, she entered the kitchen. The kettle was already full; years of brewing tea had established the habit of thus calming a frazzled mind. The switch clicked far too loudly. Everything today went as planned. From the corridor behind her, footfall sounded. The weighty air was broken by a familiar voice soft but cautions. 

You have been scowling like someone switched your sugar for salt. What is wrong with your face? Zelene turned slightly and let Dalia show through the doorway a smile flicker across her lips. Her childhood best friend was remarkably able to show up exactly when Zelene least wanted to talk and exactly when she most needed to. Dalia leaned on the doorframe with arms crossed under her chest. She donned a hoodie three sizes too big with a coffee stain on the sleeve and wrapped her brown curls in an untidy bun.

 She seemed like a walking contradiction. a chaos that was nonetheless easy. Her eyes glittered with mischievous intent. "Do you always lead with insults or is today just a special occasion?" Zelene asked after pouring boiling water over a sachet of chamomile. "Special, in my opinion. 

 You exude brilliance. Zelene deadpanned, then started to sweat. "No," Dalia said, flashing a smile You seem to have that look. That dreamy, caught-off-guard, possibly I'll borrow sugar from my hot-neighbor. Zelene choked over her cup of tea. "Oh my God, Dalia. "Do not 'Oh my God' me." I followed him. You told me your new next-door neighbor was soaked in sin and chiseled from marble. Rolling her eyes, Zelene headed for the little kitchen table. 

 You are hyperbolic. Am I? Tell it to your drawing pad. Dalia followed her in, sloppily down opposite her. The man has shoulders that give doorways a narrow impression. You sure don't want to drop off something seductive baked? You know, welcome him the old-fashioned way.

 Zelene answered fast, too quickly, saying, "I'm not trying to welcome anyone." She held her fingers around the mug and peered down into the amber liquid. It's simply... strange. Dalia's eyes grew narrow. Strange how? Zelene mumbled, then hesitated, not sure. "His passion. He seems to be silent but loud. Before you hear him, you feel him. And there is still another thing. Oh. the enigmatic broaching kind. a timeless classic. NO. Not that way. 

Her voice dropped, her eye straying toward the window. He seems to not belong here. Perhaps I not either. I have no idea. The house seems different now that he lives in it. Similar to everything moving a few degrees sideways. Dalia slanted her head, more inquisitive now. "You consider him to be dangerous?" Zelene considered the earlier meeting of his eyes with hers. Her body knew something her head lacked, and her breath had stuck in her throat. "I think... I feel not ready to know what he is. 

There was a brief stop. Dalia barely tapped her fingertips on the table. Again, you are overanalyzing. Usually. Yes. Still, the discomfort did not disappear. It stayed under Zelene's skin like fixed electricity. 

She could still sense the attraction today. Odd magnetic hum under her ribs. Rising from the chair, she carried a mug and strolled to the living room. The breeze whirling the transparent curtains revealed a break in the window. The neighbor's backyard sparkled across the short fence in mid-afternoon sun. Next door was a tidy, unspoiled yellow and brown duplex. Still, the sound of water caused her to slink closer. Her breath seized. 

Damian stripped his shirt off and dove smoothly into the pool from close to its edge. Muscle rippled on his back, tattoos like whispers over his shoulder blades. Whole, the water absorbed him, and for a while nothing moved. Zelene retreated, heart pounding. She said, "Get a grip, Zel," squeezing her mug closer. But the heat had not left her. Her fingers twitched across the ceramic. Under her skin something ancient and wild awakened inch by inch. It has a name as well. Damian