Summers really laid her eyes on Elias Montgomery, she knew he was like Jupiter in all his glory, the stars wailled and Venus bled. He was a divine form of art, but bad religion for little girls.

It was a day comparable to the summer of 89'; the warm fluffy air was walking through a cloud of soft feathers, the smoldering heat was beating down on her pale unblemished skin but there he was; sitting beneath a peach tree in the sun-soaked grass with a book she couldn't recognise and an open invitation to sin.

She watched him—his soft and full pink lips—with her acrylic nails tightly clutching her own book. She stared at him in awe, not because she thought he looked divine—she just knew he did—but because all boys like him did was kiss pretty girls and whisper sugar-coated lies into the ears of naive angels.

He had heaven in his eyes, for someone with immortality engraved on his tongue.

The sun beams peaked at him and fell onto him like spilled gold, his dark bouncy curls fell over his feverish eyes above his Roman nose, he seemed to be dipped in Ichor. And she couldn't decide if gold or crimson liquid flowed in his blue-green veins.

Lavinia only wanted a taste of that sunshine that came with him. But all he did was make girls like her sigh and cry and cry and sigh—

"Won't you come closer? You'll get a better look then."

A lump fomed in her throat and her heartbeat drummed against her ribcage violently because pretty Adonis(s) like him made the universe murmur.

Her? She was only mortal.

His voice was not honeyed or sweet and it did not sound like it was coated with deceit. Instead, it was raw and deep-rough even-from all the cigarettes he had smoked but she didn't know if it was his beamused smile or the scathing heat that was the cause of her light carnation blush. Clutching her book even tighter, she went closer to him while praying for forgiveness because she had disregarded her mama's warnings and her daddy's rules.

Pretty boy charm.

"Come sit," He spoke to her gently, gentler than the warm wind that carried the scent of peaches and levander. And perhaps she understood why he tempted nameless girls to sin.

She sat down on the soft grass beside him and he gave her his sweet peaches. And Earth cried for her as she ate, under his intense stares that set her paper skin on flames before he hummed in satisfaction and slowly wiped the sweet sap the dripped from her cherry-tainted lips to her chin. Her heart was still wild from his unholy touch that burnt her more than the scorching sun ever did. But Apollo loved him so the sun kissed him instead.

And her? She just wanted to taste Jupiter on her tongue.

And maybe he knew that, because he waited for her the next day, and the next day, and the next for that entire summertime. It was a memorable summer, the sky were intermingles of clementine, yellow and baby blues, the warm fluffy clouds were soft but his lips were softer—all he let her taste was him—the days were hot but the nights hotter and oh, so much more intense.

She was young and naive, and him older and intriguing. She grew attached before anyone could tell her of the tragedy that followed for loving a god.

Because when summer went, so did Elias Montgomery.

And Lavinia Summers understood why Icarus yearned for the sun.

...

an: this was the first chapter which I have decided to post again after much consideration. Let me know your thoughts!

_vintagehearts_xx