near sovereignty: ch 2 (reconnaissance)

He’d lost track of how long he’d been silently watching her, a thick row of peppers a head higher than himself providing refuge. Although her back was to him and her posture was neutral, he could tell how unhappy she was with her present chore.  She ripped pepper after pepper from the thick stalks, and threw them into her basket with disregard.  He didn’t need to check his voicemail to know that the message left at 3am was from her. Most likely she was on the mainland when she called, out and about with her otur girlfriends.  She had a tendency to call him when she’d had at least 4 rounds.  He imagined the morning’s already 87 degrees only exasperated the ire of her hangover.

As if on cue, she lashed out at a thick lock of hair that managed to escape from the abundance of curls high atop her head.  Dropping her basket, she yanked the strands up, and angrily twirled it around the knotted mass until secured in its proper place. Within arm’s reach, and close enough to catch the subtle sweet of liquor coming from her skin, he found himself enjoying the anticipation of this self-imposed restraint.  He watched with simple fascination as a single bead of sweat slid from the nape of her neck down to the valley of her back.  He resented her thin cotton dress for hiding the remaining journey of the bead.  Another bead snaked down her neck.  This time, without hesitation he stepped out from his hiding place bringing him directly behind her.

Her arms slowly dropped to her sides, posture unchanged.  He knew she was fully aware of his presence, but stubbornly refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement.  This made him smile on the inside.  When he could wait no longer, he gently caught the bead of sweat on the tip of his tongue before it traveled down her back.  She didn’t react.  She didn’t have to.  He knew what she was feeling.