Monday Mouthful - Short Story Challenge

For my writing class last week, we had the challenge to write a short story no more than 400 words in length. This is not easy for me, I love words. It was a lesson in word economy and I like my end result. I hope you do as well.

Like a Moth on Pavement

“What the hell is wrong with the doors?” Jace tossed his usual Marlboro Menthols on the register belt and stared, interrupting my Friday night penance at the express register.  Most nights Jace left me alone, and I ignored that he watched me from the office’s one-way glass. 

His green eyes flicked over me, settling on my name tag. “I’m calling maintenance, but hell if I am waiting around. Neither are you.”

The stifling air seeped into the temperature controlled purgatory, making the automatic doors stick. I was melting; from the humid air or the heat radiating from his gaze I couldn’t be sure. The overnight cashier arrived, sauntering over to Jace. She leaned into his ear, and whispered. He stepped back and gave her a curt nod.

 We stepped outside after shift. The parking lot was covered with moths. Their powder white wings were stuck to the hot asphalt. I was a moth, drawn to Jace’s heat. He laced his fingers in mine as we watched another wave answering the blacktop’s siren song.

 “She’s not my girlfriend if you’re wondering.”

I shot him a look. “Who’s to say I was?”

 “Who’s to say you weren’t?”

“You don’t know me well enough to assume what I’d be thinking,” I scoffed.

“True,” he inched closer, “But, I’d like to get to know you.” He flashed a wicked grin.

His smile seemed to confirm those rumors; women dropped their panties for him on command. Tonight, I was one of those women. Impetuously I leaned in, pressing my lips against his. Jace kissed me as if he had done it a thousand times; as if I belonged to him.

“Colleen,” he whispered, touching his forehead to mine, “you aren’t anything like I expected.”

I spoke against his mouth, “You aren’t either.”

Jace’s rough cheek brushed against mine, “Aren’t moths attracted to light, not blacktop?” He breathed into my ear, “I guess they aren’t what they seem.”

I awoke to the feel of sandpaper against my cheek. “Knight! Damn it, stop licking my face!” I pushed my black kitten away, returning to dream where the moths broke routine and so did I.