I was practicing fencing. For me, that meant ruthless attacks on a dummy. I don’t sense her presence at first, and I don’t realize she’s there. She’s a DaVinci- a telekine. She raises her left hand, and my sword is thrown aside. Despite her less than living entrance, her smile is soft and bright- lopsided and dimples. I can’t deny that I like it. My shoulders untense as she draws closer, and she flourishes a bouquet of lilies. I panic- did I miss a gift-giving day, like Dios des Los Muertos, halloween, valentines day? But she lets them hover in the air next to us, and she presses her lips to mine.

Frankly, I don't know what we are. We met through The Nightshades- an infamous Nevermore secret society. She's a poison nerd- lanky and awkwardly athletic. We became friends, then something more. We haven't told people but we don't really try to hide it, and we don't have a label but I don't think she's seeing anyone else. Whatever it is, it's good. We have sex, and we cuddle, then we wake up and go to class like we weren't touching the most intimate parts of one-anothers souls and bodies.

I'm saved from further contemplation when I feel the tip of her tongue gently moving against my lips. I part them, grateful for the mental break, as she opens her mouth to both suck in a gulp of air and keep going. She tastes simple- like pomegranate chapstick and cigarettes; it's one of her many flaws, her addiction. It's the first thing she thinks of when she wakes up, and the last before she goes to bed. I wish I could replace those thoughts sometimes, but we never bring it up. She'll take whatever you put in front of her, really, just for the high. It scares me, but she makes sure I'm not around if the high is fading or she's having a bad reaction to the drug.

I can't tell where I stand- is it better for our relationship if I help her through that, or if she spares me from witnessing it? I'm undecided as of now. She bars me from that part of her life in entirety, making sure nobody will give me anything- even weed- and she never does anything in front of me. I don't need protecting, but she has still cut back on her own indulgences so she has enough cash to buy me flowers and bribe campus dealers not to sell to me. I used to smoke a joint at parties every now and again, but she's made sure I can't buy weed and growing it myself is slow going.

We go back to her dorm, and I feed her Ravens after we have sex. She goes out to smoke, and comes back in not long after. She wraps her arms around me, nuzzling into my neck. It's cold and rainy outside, but whatever she's just smoked has her all touchy, and she only leaves my side to light the fireplace. After that, she pulls me back under the covers for round two. After round two, I tug her up so she's laying on my chest. Her eyes are a little glassy, and she's panting as she wipes her mouth and chin on the back of her hand.

She refuses to lay on me just yet, fluffing up my pillow, remaking the bed around me, and making sure I have water. She rests her head in my lap, a stupid look of pure, childlike wonder crossing her face every damn time she touches me belly. I think it's just a stomach, sometimes she says she would put a baby there if she could. We don't dwell on it. She says she likes that I've got some curve to me- she's 150 pounds sopping wet, and even then most of the weight becomes muscle. She burrows her face into my stomach, and murmurs something about me and a baby I don't quite catch the first time.