How Will I Tell Him
by Sandra Cormier
Travis leaned against the rough bark of the willow tree and ripped through a chicken thigh with gusto.
"So…" He wiped his lips. "What turns you on about me?"
"That's a stupid question." Shelley poured a glass of Cabernet.
"Not so stupid. Don't you want me to keep myself up for you?"
"You always keep yourself up for me, you horny bastard."
"I don't mean that. What special thing floats your boat?"
She reclined beside him and laid her head in his lap, tucking her chin against her collarbone to take a tiny sip. "Nothing. Everything."
"That's a cop-out and you know it. C'mon, 'fess up." He held his wineglass over her and tilted it at a dangerous angle.
She splayed her fingers across her face and giggled. "Put that down or I'll scream."
"Not 'til you tell me." He lowered his glass anyway and resumed eating.
She relaxed. "About you? That little spot behind your earlobe."
His chuckle warmed her heart. "I guess I can stop working out if that's all ya got."
Shelley gazed across the rolling meadow. Backlit dandelion seeds floated like tiny faeries in the breeze. She closed her eyes, listening to the crisp rattle of willow leaves. The tiniest pleasures now held such importance.
She squinted up at Travis. His jaws worked the chicken like a machine – he'd easily work it off. She wished she could eat too, but the thought of food made her insides clench.
How will I tell him?