Page 44 of In the Light of the Moon
His body was leanly muscled, his shoulders deliciously broad, and I was already aching with wanting him inside me again. But I also wanted more of this—curling up into him. Maybe with him holding me as we slept.
Judging by the hard press against my lower belly, his mind was going in those directions, too. Perhaps it was more of a plausibility than I’d thought.
With a clearing of his throat, Orion’s arms began to loosen around me, and I reluctantly leaned back to put space between us. When I looked up at him, I found his gaze soft, the green color calm like blades of grass in the rain.
“Would you like a tour? Of my home.” He said it in an adorably formal tone, brow furrowing like it was a very serious task.
I nodded and bobbed excitedly on my feet, “Yes, of course! It’s so beautiful—I want to see more.”
Pink flushed his cheeks and the tops of his ears, and when he turned toward the front door, grabbing my hand on the way, I noticed that his hair looked freshly cut. He’d never really let it grow out since we met, but after seeing him yesterday, I realized that he must’ve got it cut between now and then.
It could have just been his routine, but the thought of him getting it cut for this occasion mademestart to blush while he led me toward the house.
Now that we were closer, and I didn’t have my panic flaring or his body pressed to mine, I registered the soulful crooning coming from inside.
Orion walked us slowly, which I was thankful for as I stepped carefully on the gravel and up the short stack of wooden stairs. There was no furniture on the front porch, but I noticed a ceramic ashtray on the railing that was empty. Was it new or freshly dumped out?
That question was quickly wiped from my brain, though, as we stepped into the foyer of Orion’s cabin.
I saw from the outside that it was all one level, and the small entrance area held an artisan-looking rug in a deep red color with an angular, geometric pattern. Orion closed the door behind us, and I tried to keep my eyes from bugging out and looking over every inch that I could see. I quickly slipped out of my shoes, and once he’d removed his boots, he set them both under a wooden bench.
Orion’s home was warm. Cozy. The walls and floor were both made of the same wood, and the ceilings were higher than I expected. He started us to the left, where the foyer gave way toa large, open living room. The leather sectional sofa sat before a large fireplace that was set in the same stone as the outside. Two armchairs in a dark green fabric were positioned perpendicular to the sofa, and I could just see him curled up there, reading before the fire.
He didn’t speak as we padded further into the room, and I recognized the Bill Withers song that played softly from the impressive looking record player and speakers set within a sprawling shelving unit that must’ve held…hundredsof records.
I glanced around, trying to find a television, but stopped when my eyes landed on the fireplace’s mantle. A large, abstract painting stood behind a row of photographs with mismatched frames.
My body acted almost on its own accord when I zeroed in on the little boy in one of the photos. I wanted to pick up the small frame for a closer look, but I suppressed the urge by grabbing onto the wooden shelf to lean in as closely as I could.
The little boy was obviously Orion, his pale skin and green eyes round and sweet-looking. His short curls were a bright white, not the pale, cream color that they were now. And his sweatshirt and jeans looked like an adorable version of what he still elected to wear most days.
Orion’s lips were pulled back in a wide smile that didn’t meet his eyes, almost as if he didn’t understand the expression but tried to mimic whoever was behind the camera when they commanded, ‘Say cheese!’
“Who’s that?” I asked and pointed to the man standing next to him. His brown hand was on Orion’s shoulder, and his smile lit up his entire face. They both stood before metal siding that looked like the facade of a shed or trailer.
“My father,” Orion said, and my brow lowered in more confusion. When I inspected the man’s face more closely, okay, yes, I did see that he and Orion had the same nose. They hadthe slight tilting of their eyes in common as well. But the man’s tighter curls were a dark brown, and there was the obvious difference in his skin tone.
I turned to my… boyfriend? The man I was dating? And looked at him more closely. We usually had a sixth sense about this sort of thing, so how did I not know that Orion wasn’t white? Well, in race, not necessarily color of his skin.
“You never told me that you were…” My voice trailed off when I caught the little wrinkle between Orion’s eyebrows and the flaring of his nose.Hadhe told me?
“That I was what?”
My eyelids fluttered for a moment, trying to find words that wouldn’t come off accusatory or offensive. I’d heard that biracial children often felt alienated from both sides of their heritage, so I certainly didn’t want to add to that. “Ah… that your dad wasn’t white?” But then I cringed at the awkward way I’d phrased it.
Orion’s brow crinkled more, but I saw his shoulders relax, “Oh,” he muttered with an inflection like he was relieved by what I said. He looked back at the photo, “No, he wasn’t. My mother is.”
I nodded, but then, of course, I blurted another question without thinking, “But your last name?”
This time, Orion let out a raspy snort, “My grandfather was white, Irish. Da always complained about being a black man with a last name like Gealach.” He gestured his hand in a lazy wave at himself, “My mother has albinism, and Da must’ve carried the gene, so that’s why I look like this.”
He said the words in that matter-of-fact way of his, but it made me feel bad that I’d brought it up all the same. I placed my palm on his chest and felt the calm beat of his heart. “I love the way you look. I hope my questions didn’t offend you.”
When I chanced a glance to his face, Orion looked anything but. He reached up to hold my hand on his chest, almostcovering it completely. The contrast on the skin of his tattooed arm looked even sharper in the mellow light of his home. He spoke softly, eyes hidden beneath lowered lashes, “They didn’t. I hadn’t mentioned this before.” He peeled my hand off of his chest but kept it clasped within his grip. “Shall I show you the rest of the house? Or are you getting hungry?”
My excitement bubbled up again, “Tour, please.”
Orion pointed out the rest of the photos quickly, and all of them featured him and his father. Down the line, both grew older until the last one showed a softly smiling Orion in black cap and gown, and his father, with salt-and-pepper hair this time, looking as proud as could be.
