Alec & Circe
She was a bottomless ocean.
The water slipping through your fingers.
A mystery caught between fantasy and reality.
She was loud, fierce, and invisible.
Her assumptions remained proven one day after one other she’d paraded in the square, stealing from three merchants without being seen. But it wasn’t because she desired the possessions. She had access to the finest clothing and jewelry and exquisite foods. In truth, she’d done these wild and forbidden things believing it would fill one void inside her.
She longed for sleepless, drunken nights and holding her breath for longer than five seconds in places she felt entirely weightless. She longed for filthy pirates with even filthier minds to take her for just one day.
She went about her long hours hoping for a fleeting moment of pleasure.
She was the siren who craved adventure.
Her name was Circe, but she hadn’t always been this way.
As she walked across an oyster shell walkway to the market, she greeted four townspeople who passed by twice. None of which heard the emptiness in her seven words, or saw the waves in her smile, or looked into her rain-soaked eyes.
Inside, she was screaming. Though, on the surface, her misery had stunned her into submission. And her heart wept, too—a horrific heaving of her chest. Like six brittle bones inside were trying to crack open so her soul could flee her, too.
Not a soul had noticed how she was always deep, distant waters.
But on this day, Alec noticed.
He rarely left the island, mostly four times a year.
He was an ancient language.
He was the anchor and the ground beneath your feet.
An islander caught between truths and lies.
He was coffee, books, and lonely nights.
Alec stood in the square, having not visited in six months, feeling as though he didn’t just live on an island but that he was an island. Nevertheless, he didn’t really need anyone. He had the sound of the ocean waves, the touch of every breeze, and the entire galaxy above. In truth, there was still a hollow in his heart and home, and a void to whisper in his ear and remind him of it.
He longed for sleepless nights inside the gentle warmth of a woman and someone to whisper carnal-soaked words in his ear. He longed for a wild soul with an even wilder heart and delicate fingers to touch him for just a day.
He went about his long hours hoping for a fleeting moment of pleasure.
He was the mere mortal who craved to be found.
On this day, he brought three months’ worth of smoked sea bass to the market. Having not seen Alec around the square often, ladies found him mysterious and handsome. They giggled and batted their lashes, but there was only Circe in Alec’s entire world at that moment. And he could not tear his eyes away from her.
It seemed that as soon as Alec noticed Circe, nothing else mattered.
Inside, his heart was a loose cannon. Though, on the surface, his isolation had stunned him into silence. And his nerves rushed, too—a racing of his pulse. His body froze from it all. So, all he could do was gaze at her in the crowded market.
He admired how the sun had kissed her skin and the color of sand in her hair. And he waited, seven seconds and more, watching to see if she would smile.
“Excuse me,” the lady at his table interrupted, offering him coins for the fish, but she was blocking his view of Circe. Alec held up a finger, stepping to the right, needing not to lose sight of her.
And Circe could’ve sworn that day she felt Alec’s eyes on her before she turned around. When the wind came, and tinkling bells from the chimes surrounded her, she paused mid-stride. Fabled love was calling her name.
Five ... four ... three ...
Circe turned, and between bodies of townspeople, a man stood across the way behind a table, a line of ladies before him. But then he looked back at Circe, his chestnut hair bouncing off his forehead and an imposing gaze arrested her right then.
Oh, how she’d never been looked at in the way he was looking at her.
His eyes, smooth and dangerous delight, held both freedom and pleasure as he trailed them over her body. She felt them, like clandestine hands on her skin.
Then Lacie, her lady, appeared. “Everything all right?”
Circe clutched the stone around her neck. It took everything within her to tear her eyes away from him. “Do you know who that man is?”
Lacie followed Circe’s gaze. “The man selling fish?” she asked, and Circe nodded. “That is the lighthouse keeper’s son. He lives on the island and only comes a few times a year.”
“Oh.” Circe all but sighed, looking back at him, sick with disappointment and the possibility of not seeing him for a while.
Lacie took her hand.
Alec watched Circe walk away.
Circe watched Alec as she walked away.
The sun reflected off colorful hanging sea glass, sending blueish-green stars to dance about the market, blinding them.
But Alec, a romantic, returned the next day.
That time, when he locked eyes with her, she smiled.
Alec clutched his chest, weak in the knees, causing Circe to laugh.
The day after that, he waved. A small lift of his fingers.
It went on like this for an entire year, the pining, the patience, the anticipation. No one knew of Alec and Circe’s silent, sacred moments. These were theirs, and theirs alone.
But that was all they were.
Silent gazes. Sacred moments. Surreptitious seconds.
Until one of them was unable to hold back any longer.