Burning Passion: Love Never Die

The pic she sent was a selfie. She sat in front of her dressing table, in a strapless peach nightgown. Her dark, lustrous hair, which was usually tied up, fell loose around her shoulders. She wore no makeup except the Lipstick Wesley bought her.

Wesley’s hand shook a little, and the enlarged image snapped back to its normal size.

“You’re quiet. That bad? Never mind. I’ll take it down,” Blair said.

Before she deleted the pic, Wesley saved it. From NôvelDrama.Org.

“I just wanted to let you know that not all lipstick is red. This one is buttermilk with a brownish tint. You can call it a Mocha Lipstick shade.”

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Holding his phone in his Left hand, and a cigarette between his fingers of his right, Wesley leaned against the wall with his eyes closed.

The only thing he could think about was Blair. She filled his head. Her smile, her voice… the gentle Blair, the mischievous Blair, the aloof

Blair, the angry Blair… Every one of them was adorable.

His finger slid across the screen of his phone. He found the picture and stared at it, longer this time, mesmerized.

He missed her so much, he realized.

The silence from Wesley was like a slap in the face. Blair felt humiliated.

She regretted ever sending him the photo. Not even patient enough to get the makeup remover, she grabbed a cotton swab and started to remove the lipstick. She was frustrated, angrily wiping her face clean.

Afterwards, she tossed the Lipstick into a drawer and buried it deep under the rest of the detritus in there. Behind the suntan lotion, underneath the loofah, mixed in with all the other shades she rarely touched.

Then she went to bed, leaving the desk Lamp on.

But sleep seemed reluctant to visit. She tossed and turned in bed, wondering why Wesley never replied.

When her phone buzzed, she jerked up like a spring and reached for her phone out of reflex. It was a two-second message from Wesley.

She clicked on it excitedly and put her phone to her ear.

“You look very nice,” he said. He was breathing heavily, as if he was running.

‘Not “nice” but “very nice.”‘ Blair thought the world was bright and beautiful again.

“But why did it take him so Long to reply? And I already deleted it. If he just saw my message, he shouldn’t have been able to see the photo.’

To solve the puzzle, she asked, “Who Looks nice?”

“You do. In your pic,” he typed.

So he did see it. Blair didn’t know what to say. She sent him an ellipsis and lay down, but still couldn’t sleep. This time it was because of the thrill. She could almost hear her heart drumming, beating hard

against her chest.

Three minutes later, she slipped out of her blanket, took the lipstick out of the drawer, and put it in the most conspicuous spot on the vanity. Now, she was ready to sleep.

Wesley had already started his run, making good time on the track. It was important to the military for their men to have good stamina, so this was an essential part of their regimen. Sweat drenched the top he was wearing, but he still managed to glance at his phone and smile when he saw the dots Blair sent.