MTG Salvation

Now happily seated on their blanket in a wilder style of paradise, Simon and Eva dug into the picnic basket. Out came the cucumber sandwiches, the potato salad, the thermos full of soup, the plastic cups with a bottle of orange juice, and the bags of potato crisps. They tucked zealously into this marvelous repast, quickly devouring all that they had been left with. Few words passed between the two, excepting the occasional grunt of satisfaction or pointless effort to convey meaning with a mouthful of cucumber. Soon they were into dessert, a trio of creamy éclairs. They chomped through one each with unparalleled ferocity.
“Oh man, there’s one left!” Simon declared, when they both had finished.
“I’ll be glad to dispose of it.” Eva informed him, gazing greedily at the lone pastry.
“As if!” Simon exclaimed, offended. He may have fancied Eva, but not even her infinite natural beauty had a hope of competing with the young man’s voracious fever for confections. “It’s mine!”
“I’ll show you mine!” She declared, and lunged for it. Simon anticipated this, and they collided overtop of it. In an moment they were soldiers locked in mortal combat, grappling with all their might in hopes that they might claim the waiting prize. Using every tactic at her disposal, Eva sought to get the better of Simon but for every tickle she tried, he tickled back. For every poke and prod he matched her, and it became clear to her that she could not win the contest of wills by virtue of physical prowess alone.
“Truce!” She said, panting heavily. Simon, similarly exhausted although willing to go on as they had been for hours as it was a pretext to be in contact with Eva, reluctantly agreed.
There the two of them sat, gasping for breath, both just out of arm’s reach of the éclair. Eva had a plan.
“Don’t you see? There’s a clear solution to our problem.” She edged slightly away from Simon.
“What do you mean?” He asked her, not noticing that she was moving infinitesimally slowly in the direction of the disputed dessert.
“Well, if we both want it, we could just slice it in - urf!” The end of her sentence was terminated in a snort as she snatched up the éclair from its resting spot on the blanket and stuffed it greedily into her mouth.
“Hey!” Simon said “That was mine.” Eva grinned, half of the éclair's considerable length protruding from her mouth in a far from ladylike but wholly comical fashion.
“Come and get it.” She taunted, barely coherent through sweet victory.
For a moment she simply sat there, chewing smugly as Simon stared in mute disbelief. The éclair inched gradually into her mouth, any hope of Simon tasting that perfect matrimony of whipped cream and chocolate disappearing along with it. At a speed so quick as to be almost unmeasurable, some wild brilliance flashed in Simon’s eyes.
“Fine.” He stated, flatly.
What followed occurred so rapidly that even Simon was unsure of the precise nature of events. He leaned in and snapped up the remainder of the pastry from her mouth. In doing so, though, his lips met with hers, and as the last traces of éclair were downed, instinct took over and he kissed her. In an instant she had run the situation through her mind and returned the affection. Apprehension shifted swiftly to rapture and for what seemed an eternity to Simon the pair lay there on the rocks by the river, locked in a passionate embrace by feelings too strong to be ignored at a moment of such opportunity.
When it ended, and this was after quite some time indeed, Eva rested her head on Simon’s shoulder, breathless. He was staring downstream, admiring the muted splendour of the scenery. Everything was quiet, for a moment, till Simon looked down and smiled a little smile at the girl he had so recently snogged. He made as to kiss her again, but to his surprise, she put her fingers to his lips.
“No.” She told him. Frightened by this, Simon searched in her tone and body language for an explanation as to what could possibly account for this emotional reprioritization. There was nothing in either to express hostility or discontent; only the faintest hint of what Simon was barely clever enough to recognize as disappointment mingled with longing.
“Why?” He asked, feeling precisely those things as well (although for very different reasons).
Eva sat up, and turned to face him. Looking straight into his eyes, she took his hands in hers and spoke to him in a gentle, almost mournful tone. “You seem like a really nice guy, Simon. I like spending time with you pretty well. But in case you forgot, which I think maybe you might have, we only met yesterday.”