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Shorts
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| For Katie | |
| By dante8 | ||||||||
| 03 February 2007 | ||||||||
‘So it wasn’t really my fault, was it?’ He leant over her, and with it came a slight hint of fragrance. ‘Well, since I can’t scold or threaten God, I guess you’ll have to do.’ ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, a little drunk in the rush of the moment. ‘I’ll…kiss you!’ he said, scowling fiercely. ‘Like you’d have the guts,’ she laughed. ‘If they found out, they’d tear you to little tiny bits.’ ‘Yeah, they would,’ he said, smiling sadly. ‘But I’d be able to tell everyone I met I kissed you, so maybe it would be worth it.’ ‘I don’t think you’re going to do it,’ she said. ‘You don’t?’ ‘I don’t.’ ‘I will!’ ‘You won’t!’ ‘Watch me!’ ‘There’ll be nothing to watch-’ He kissed her. He dived in under her guard and softly, hardly touching, pressed his lips to hers. There was hardly any pressure, there was just a whisper of a suggestion that her lips were being touched. It lasted a second. It lasted a lifetime. Time came back; realisation, which had been hanging around because it is always needed in these situations, hit her like a bucket of iced water. ‘Did you just-’ ‘Yes. Did you-’ ‘No! No, I had no part in that!’ ‘But you didn’t pull away…’ ‘Where was I going to pull away to?’ she shouted, finally forcing her arms into action and pushing him off her. He didn’t resist her; he was the colour of porridge and pretty much the same consistency. Where had he gone? Not two seconds ago he’d been in control, and now he looked so lost it was pitiful. No, no pity! He kissed you! He had no right! You didn’t encourage him! Alright, so you may have been a bit flirtatious, but that’s not the same as inviting open kissing, is it? Urm… ‘Look, I’m going to bed.’ She snapped at him. ‘Sleep on the floor. Sleep outside. Actually, please sleep outside. Then I can lock the door, and I’ll know you’re not going to sneak about and make another pass at me.’ ‘Okay,’ he said, suddenly meek. He received every word like a soldier receiving a flogging, quietly resolved to his pain and only praying for it to end. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, and stormed upstairs without waiting for a response. Of all the cheeky sods, she thought. Downstairs, Jonathan set out his cover and lay down beneath it. And if we watched very carefully, we might guess that he was crying-if he wasn’t a boy, and therefore above such things.
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