First Kiss Friday
“The only reason I was ever able to be me, the only time I could be myself,” I whispered, watching his fingers slide between the channels of my knuckles. Blinking away years of repressive tears, I met his gaze. “Was around you.”
I don’t know why I did it. Exhaustion combined with alcohol and no longer giving a shit? Wanting to break that eternal warning inside of me? Perhaps I really thought I was dead and damned the consequences.
My body slid on the chair, my knees bouncing against his. Tan tried to shift—whether to stop or accommodate me, I couldn’t say. Bouncing on my heels, I rose toward him. With my eyes closed tight, my lips blindly sought out his. It wasn’t an elegant kiss, certainly not one worth bragging about to my future cats. But as his chin bumped mine, my head swerved, and the dread pounding in my heart erupted into glittering butterflies.
God, his lips were softer than I could ever have imagined. He tasted of champagne, of course, but also the gentle kiss of rain while hiding in a bookstore. Of snuggling under a blanket by the crackle of a fire. Of every foolish dream I’d ever tacked to the hope of him liking me in return.