Part 1: Vince
Grace sank into her and Trip's bed. Their designer sheet crumpled beneath her body and embraced her. 'Embrace' Grace thought. The word had haunted her for years. An "Embrace" is what Vince had asked for. A simple embrace. She closed her eyes as she remembered their "embrace"
"Grace, one embrace before you make your decision" Vince whispered
"But what about Trip..." Grace did not know what to do. She was merely a college student. She had walked into college confident that she had her life in order. She would marry Trip, become an artist, and live a happy life. But now? What now? Vince stood before her, arms open, welcoming, waiting, waiting for an embrace.
His arms wrapped around her and she accepted the move. Her hands found their own way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Just one kiss was all she needed. One kiss and she could go and lead the life she was meant to. His soft lips touched against hers and slowly moved. Her lips tingled as he moved against them. One kiss became another long and drawn out one. His tongue ran against her bottom lip and she suddenly felt his tongue against hers. His hand wrapped around hers and he gently lead her to her dorm room. The room that Trip had helped her decorate. "Modern. Tres cheek" is how Trip described it. Chic was the word he had intended to use, but he was not educated enough to keep up with his facade.
Vince pulled Grace onto the bed and his arms anchored her, making her feel safe, loved, cared for, alive.
Grace, now sprawled on her and Trip's bed, sobbed as she remembered the next day. Trip knelt down on one knee. He spewed out a clearly pre-written script and, in his disgusting version of romance, proposed to her. She accepted. She accepted as she remembered the feeling of Vince's lips on her. She accepted as she remembered the feel of Vince's arms around her. She accepted as she remembered the feeling of Vince filling her very being. She accepted and she knew that she had already jinxed her marriage.
Part 2: Melons
Trip looked at Grace from the bedroom door. She was not aware he was there. His chest fought against him as he attempted to breathe. Should he comfort her? How? She had become so distant. Hell, were they ever close? Were they ever truly a couple? Nothing made any sense to Trip anymore, perhaps it never had. He made his way to the bar and poured himself a glass of wine, swirling it between two fingers. He took a sip and grabbed his eight ball. "Does she love me?" He asked. He apprehensively shook the ball and the ball displayed "Ask again later". Trip mused that if he asked Grace that question, that it may be her response as well. "Ask again later Trip, just go" And she would once again shoo him off. He leaned over the glass of wine and remembered going to buy their engagement ring.
Trip rushed through the market place. His heart raced as he ran to the jewelry store. A giant smiled graced his face and he proudly displayed it for everyone to see. He was in love. Grace was perfect in every way, just what any man would ever need. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him from his thoughts and his running. "Melons sir? Fresh melons" Trip turned to decline the melons and as he did something caught his eye. A melon sat above the rest. It called to him. It silently beckoned him. Before he was aware, he took out his engagement ring money and bought the melon. He realized that now he was five dollars short of the ring's price and reasoned that he could come back after a trip to the bank. He brought the melon to a restroom, unsure what to do with it.
He removed the melon from the bag and caressed it. Its hard, ridged rind felt amazing under his fingertips. As he removed his hand, a slight tingling sensation lingered. He lifted the yellow melon and leaned closer. "Trip, you're going to marry Grace, why do you need anything else? Do you even want this, melon?" He asked out loud.
"......." the melon responded. This was all the response Trip needed. He closed the gap and passionately kissed the melon. The tingling sensation now making itself at home on his sensitive lips. He locked the door to the restroom and removed his shirt, stripping for the melon. His hands gently, yet firmly, held the melon and rubbed it down his body.
He had always been a little on the weaker side. Never quite as strong, or fast, or muscular as the other males. However, this melon, the melon in his hands, made him feel like a real man. It gave him its all, its rind, its seeds, its juicy center. He faltered as he realized it gave him more in these few moments of knowing each other than Grace could ever give him. Tears burned his cheeks as the melon took his virginity. He left the melon that day. He left it used, alone, and abandoned in the public restroom. Lost, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.
Trip stood up from the bar stool and headed to the room. He had to end this. For him, for Grace, for the melon. Just then a knock came at the door.