Adonis wasn't who everyone believed him to be.

They envisioned him with skin of milk, hair flowing with streams of honey, and eyes full of the ocean's deepest, darkest depths. His curls of beauty dipped into every person's desires, his elated smile seeking no equivalent as it boasted broadly to all those in sight of it. Sculpted and openly adored, they refused to picture him any other way.

But to Ruth, they got the narrative wrong.

To Ruth, Adonis wasn't pictured this way at all.

No, Adonis was everything opposite of that. He was laying right there in front of her, comfortably sprawled out on a picnic bench, listening to her spew about the story she was entering in her school contest. He didn't have skin paler than the moon, hair made out of the richest of golds, or blue diamonds clinging to his irises in search of a wealthy home. Instead, he was affluent with bronze. Smooth, tawny skin, hickory eyes, and long umber hair that fell flat like a waterfall with a hint of a wave.

But never had a man looked more perfect to Ruth, looked more like an Adonis, than the one in front of her, known as Raffo Leflore.

His shaking hands were laced together over his chest, patiently listening to her storytelling and asking an occasional question. Who was William? What was Ruth changing the male character's name to? Did the love interest want to marry him when he proposed years later? How could they marry each other when they hardly know much of one another as adults? Seeing as how they're no longer children, do they have anything in common?

She answered his questions as best as she could. William was the love interest. She changed his name to Lewis for now. Yes, she wanted to marry him because we only do consent here. They talked for awhile to re-get-to-know each other. They find things in common before they marry.

Raffo was decently satisfied by the end of the conversation.

"Talking has definitely helped with the distracting," he eventually admitted, relieved. "The craving s'not so bad right now."

With her back pressed against her side of the park bench, she turned her head to look at him, but his eyes were closed in concentration. Frowning, she took out her cell phone and google searched withdrawal symptoms and techniques to help curve them. She was eager for anything that could help him handle the cravings, anything to make the process easier for him. Giving up nicotine wasn't easy, and he was really young to be dealing with it by himself. Addiction in any form was hard to handle, and she wanted to make it as easy as she could for him.

Ruth was silent for a moment too long, however, because Raffo caught on to Ruth's silence, his voice cutting through the air. There was a mixture of curiosity and suspicion layered in one, simple question. "What are you doing?"

She looked over to the side and caught his curious gaze that time. She swallowed thickly.

"Well . . . I know you don't want me to pity you," she warned slowly at first. "So, I thought I'd help you instead."

His lips thinned. "Help me?"

"Don't think of it as me helping you, if that's not what you want. Think of it as me doing this with you."

"I told you this wasn't your fault, Ruth-"

"I know it's not my fault," she quickly cut him off. "But I don't want you to have to do it alone. Besides, there's not a whole lot I can do on my side anyway. All I can do is help you make a routine on what to do if the cravings get to be too bad."

Raffo was silent for a moment. "What kind of routine?"

Ruth tried not to show her relief at not getting immediately shot down. She glanced over the steps in her phone on WebMD. "Well, it said if the craving gets to be too bad, you can chew some gum so I guess that's step 1. Step 2 is starting a new routine for the times when you usually smoke like going for a walk, playing basketball, exercise, play your guitar, that kind of thing. Or you can call or text a friend if you don't want to do anything active."

"Sounds like a lot of bullshit."

"It's not bullshit," she said, defensively. "What's wrong with playing basketball or texting a friend?"

"Talking to my friends won't help. That only makes me want to smoke more," he snorted. He wasn't wrong.

Ruth, still, couldn't stop herself. "You can call or text me, if you want. I wouldn't mind," she blurted.

Her eyes widened at her sudden boldness. Raffo turned his head to look at her, expression mirroring one of amusement. Her flaming cheeks grew hotter at the crooked smirk slowly sprawling across his pink lips and she sunk deeper into the bench, hating the flecks of sparkles in his eyes at the sight of her squirming.

"Didn't know you wanted my number so bad," he teased, his teeth glistening at her as he spoke.

The tips of her ears practically melted off with embarrassment. "Just shut up and give me your cell phone."

His eyebrows shot up at the bluntness in her question, but he reached into his front pocket anyway and pulled out his cell phone. With his long arm, he easily handed it to her without having to get up. "For the record, I didn't ask for your help. I hope you remember that."

"I know. But friends help each other, right?"

There was another moment of silence between the two of them. She could feel the weight of his stare on the side of her face, roaming in confusion. They never established that they were friends before. They were just- kind of, almost always around each other. Existing in the same places periodically. They had talked for awhile on multiple occasions, so that made them friends. Right? Or was it just all in her head?

"Right," he eventually muttered, his voice quieter than before.

Ruth didn't question the weird drop in his voice, and instead put all of her focus on typing in her number. She wasn't sure if she should put her last name or not, so she left it at Ruth Marjorie with the word tiny in parenthesis. After sending herself a quick text on his phone, she turned to him and passed his phone back. On cue, as soon as his eyes read over the dimly lit screen, his lips curled, a light touching his features once again. Ruth smiled, relieved.

"There," she said. "Healthy snacks for the cravings, gum for the chewing, and when playing your guitar doesn't work or you're in need of a basketball partner, just shoot me a text. I'll be there."

He looked over at her again, hesitating. He tried his best to appear serious enough to be completely honest with her before she agreed to anything. "I won't be the best person to be around for awhile," he warned. "I'm already an asshole, so it only gets worse from here."

She tilted her head up defiantly. "I can handle it. I'm not afraid to tell you when you're being an asshole. And if it gets to be too much, I'll leave you alone. Simple. Deal?"

Raffo rolled his eyes at her terrible plan, but Ruth wasn't going to be deterred. She could easily handle attitude. She lived with Shantelle for nineteen years and she was the queen of attitude. Shantelle didn't care who she was talking to; she demanded respect everywhere she went. From bosses, to her husband, to her daughter, to the little old white lady in the grocery store clutching her purse, to the security guards who were never far behind them in Targets and Walmarts, Ruth could name them all. If someone didn't show the woman respect, she'd take it from you.

And if Ruth could live with that for her entire life before college, she could handle anyone.

"We really need to stop making deals with each other."

"Deeeaal?"

Raffo eyed her one last time, giving her space to back out if she needed to, but Ruth was stubborn when it came to caring about people. Ruth knew what it was like to feel alone, she felt alone most of her life before she moved to Oklahoma. Sure, she had a best friend back home like most people when they move to college, but her and Diana always had a limited friendship. Shantelle didn't trust sleep overs and never wanted Ruth out passed 8 pm and she couldn't go out unless her homework was done. Ruth and Diana still saw each other periodically, but there was still a loneliness there that she hated.

"Fine," he murmured, rubbing at his temple from a possible oncoming headache. Another withdrawal symptom. "Deal."

Ruth's grin was blinding.

And it didn't go unnoticed.

Raffo looked at it for a moment too long, his eyes lingering on the fullness of her lips surrounding her teeth, and roaming along the shy corners of her elated face. A warmth of crimson danced to an invisible drum across the soft melodies filling her cheeks, gliding like the finest tune across the tip of her nose. She hated that all she could do was blush around him like some embarrassing school girl whenever he stared at her like that. Her stomach always tricked her mind into thinking it was going to explode with a plethora of butterflies, and her heart was one beat closer to giving out from the intensity of it.

She couldn't take the diamonds in his eyes and the luring smile curving at his devilish lips, taunting her need to stare at them. Because she did . . . much too often, might she add.

But she couldn't help it; just like she couldn't help doing so in that moment.

The lump in her throat grew the longer they stared at each other, their smiles gentle. Nothing else mattered but the comfortability developing between the two of them, the ease of both of their souls co-existing in their ancestors' dreams. They whispered in the wind, brushing their words across their listening ears, humming in a language only Ruth and Raffo could understand, despite the centuries of assimilation between them all.

Ruth even heard her grandfather; her Amafo.

Something about that moment just felt . . . magical.

So neither of them left it just yet.

They stayed wrapped up in their enclosed bubble; staring at one another without saying a single word. The wind howled in their listening ears. The sun beamed in slits through the branches of the trees like a peeking child, striking strips of warmth along the plains of their cinnamon skin until they melted into molten gold. Laid out on a bench, staring at one another across the way with their long hair pushing across flushed cheeks, a renaissance portrait was painted by the ghosts of the past.

And it wasn't society's version of Adonis and Aphrodite that was painted.

It was theirs.

*****

notes: translation (from choctaw to english)

♡ amafo - my grandfather