They chatted, touched each other some more, and yes, kissed. It was sweet, romantic. But Demeter didn’t know how far she should take it. The afterburner sunset was over, it was getting dark and the automatic lights turned on around the café. She bit her lip. She was mentally preparing herself for this night, but to be honest, she wanted to savour it. Then again, it was Persephone’s choice. Demeter had decided to go along with whatever she’d say.
Trip held both her hands into his. “You have no idea how much I needed this date, baby,” he said softly.
Damn, he was smooth. Demeter was not. She sniffed her nose, ended up making a sniffle of wet snot. Far from romantic. Then again, Trip was so starved of personal attention that even if she wiped a booger in his sleeve, he’d shrug it off and keep on blinking and grinning.
“I lean in, kiss him softly, then say, ‘I need this to last. It was perfect. Our date was perfect. Same time next week?”
Trip blinked at her, then shook his head and broke off the embrace. Demeter touched the side of his face and stared at his details, as if taking it all in for a faraway journey. This hadn’t been something that Persephone had told her to do, but it seemed like something that a girl in her place would do.
“What are you doing?” Trip asked wearily.
“I’m taking in the details in your face. Your imperfections, the lines. I want to remember you, on my long journey back.”
Triptolemus stood there in silence, looking uneasy, the way people do when someone is taking too long to take a picture of them.
Demeter finally smirked sideways, pinched Trip’s cheek and turned around to leave. She took a couple of steps, turned back and said, “Goodnight, Trip. Think of me tonight.” She winked, then sauntered away.