Raspberry Ripple

Sana was fucked.

Why else would she dream of running her fingers through Dax's perfect hair as he sponged kisses on the insides of her thighs and wake up breathless, aching? She held her head between her knees and tugged the roots of her hair. Ever since the kiss, she had been unable to stop replaying it in her head. She'd done it so much that now she was having wet dreams about him. Dammit.

It wasn't like Sana had been totally oblivious to the sexual tension festering between them. In fact, she noticed it right after he'd helped her out in her shop. The icy sizzle, which had had kept them apart, seemed to suddenly pull them together. Sana had decided the unexpected development was a hassle because she couldn't stop thinking about him. It proved to be even more annoying because Dax acted oblivious to it. He watched her with his unwavering cold, calculating eyes and kept his words trimmed to less than five syllables as usual.

Sana had thought that physical attraction was truly a pain in the ass. It had the blood of a rebel. It only peaked around men she should steer clear from.

And it didn't help that Dax was hot. It was not just his looks but the way he carried himself with a carefully measured mix of nonchalance, confidence and indifference. But beneath that and his black leather jacket was the heart of an emotional miser, an arrogant jerk and a sadist. Sana knew he enjoyed watching her get frustrated over him and the trail of blood he left behind like his crooked version of tips. The idea of conquering this personality and getting through his steel walls used to thrill her but suddenly it seemed too dangerous; her heart had begun to want a part in it.

She knew he was a bad idea, the definition of trouble and all its synonyms but she was attracted to him so much. And she was absolutely disgusted with herself for it. As if there weren't enough reasons for her to hate herself for.

But that was before he'd showed up at her truck, bleeding out to death. Her entire perspective changed after she'd panicked like she'd never done before. The thought of him dying was like a splash of ice-cold water on the delusion she'd been feeding herself to deny her obvious feelings for him.

Since then, she'd decided that she wasn't going to put up an act or fight him. She was going to give in to her feelings and be true to herself. Because the way she felt for Dax wasn't meagre attraction. She felt it in her heart --- the capacity to which he affected her and the way he made her feel seen and safe. Sana had avoided relationships because of her dream and because she was scared she'd never be good enough. She'd also never met anyone who made her want to confide in them like Dax did. Sana felt like she could tell him anything and he'd accept her for who she was. He'd never assume or expect anything extraordinary from her--- just her.

She'd felt the same in the kiss. The way Dax kissed her --- it was a plea. A plea to see him for who he was, peel back his leather jacket and understand him skin-to-skin. It was also a bit of conflict, a bit of gratitude and a bit of attraction. She loved the way she could understand him without him having to say anything. She loved how he could communicate beautifully if he chose to.

That evening when Sana had returned home, she half-expected herself to second-guess her decision of putting herself out there for a person like Dax.

But she didn't.

Not once.

Sana pushed herself from her bed, squeezed some toothpaste onto her toothbrush and went out to her balcony. As she looked at the horizon, she wondered if Dax's wound was healing well and if he was doing better. It didn't sit right with her, not knowing things like these. She would've dropped by his flat every day if not for the one request that Dax had made that day. He had asked her not to show up in his apartment again. It hurt a little because after being held in his arms, she was almost ready to move in with him. But he'd said it was too dangerous.