Wrong. This is not a kiss. It’s a lesson.
The thought was like a mule’s kick to the gut. She’d asked for a second lesson to help her with other guys. I was losing my head, and she was probably being analytical.
This time I let her go, and she fell back onto the sofa beside me. The only sound was of both of us panting. Neither of us moved, both facing forward.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I cursed myself for losing my head in something that should have been more clinical. Impersonal. Something she was going to pick apart in her head and apply when she kissed other men.
I pushed to my feet without turning to face her, refusing to let her see how badly I’d been affected by the kiss.
“I hope you remember that one,” I said over my shoulder. “Because our lessons are over.”
I headed for my room, having never been more grateful for her silence.
Scarlett
I was eating my salad sandwich in the staff lunchroom the next day, but not feeling particularly hungry. And not just because I was a touch hung over.
The first time I’d convinced Finn to kiss me, there had been a fair bit of naïveté involved. Not knowing how good it would be, I hadn’t thought there would be any danger involved.
I’d been wrong. Incredibly, outrageously wrong. Kissing Finn was most definitely dangerous to our friendship, not to mention my sanity.
Luckily, we’d had some awkward moments and moved past it, reclaiming our friendship. My sanity, however, was still in question. Especially after last night.
Knowing how sublime kissing him would be, and how it could jeopardize the most important friendship in my life, why, in the name of all things sparkly, would I instigate it again?
Alcohol had played a part. A big part. Note to self: stop making kissing decisions while fueled with alcohol.
But it couldn’t take all the blame.
Part of me had been desperate to know if our first kiss had been a fluke. I’d had high hopes for Peter—thinking I could put my kissing lesson into practice—but he’d been such a disappointment that during the date I’d started to wonder if Finn had really been that good, or if I’d exaggerated it in my mind.
At least now I had an answer.
My body temperature went up even thinking about it…
Maybe Finn was an aberration—a kissing savant—and he’d ruined me for all other guys. Now there was a depressing thought.
I dropped my salad sandwich onto its wrapper just as Cathy rushed in, a container of sushi in her hand.
“So,” she said, her eyes alight. “How did it go with Peter?”
I had to remember he was her friend. Well, her boyfriend’s friend, and that was close enough. Diplomacy was key. “I don’t think we’re a good fit for each other.”
“Was it the eye makeup?” She scrunched up her nose. “Because he’s only been doing that since he joined the band.”
“No, there was just something missing. I don’t think he was into me, either.” And the kisses had been awful. “Thanks for trying.”
“I owe you from when you set me up with Mike, then fixed things when we had that big fight. I’ll probably owe you until you’re with the love of your life.”
That was sweet. It hadn’t been much—I’d just invited them out for a drink at our local bar, The Three Beers, without telling either of them the other was coming, then made them listen to each other so all the misunderstandings could be cleared up. The fact that I’d been the one to cause the misunderstandings in the first place was something we didn’t speak about anymore.
“You were right about this plan, though,” I said. “I need to supersede the memory. Who else have you got?” We had to get this show on the road and find someone who kissed better than Finn. Surely there was a man somewhere in Australia who could?
She crossed her arms as she regarded me. “Have you considered that this might be about something else?”
“Like what?” Did she suspect that the kissing problem was all on my side? Maybe Peter had said something?
“I don’t know. It’s just that you seem…a little too eager. What if there’s a hole in your life that you’re trying to fill with dating?”
A hole in my life? “Are you saying I’m empty?”
“Not empty, just maybe missing something.” She dug into her sushi container and pointed an avocado and seaweed roll at me. “You think it’s about dating because everyone tells us we should be hooking up at our age, but what if it’s not?”
A missing piece? I chewed the inside of my cheek as I considered her point. “I already have a job, a home, a half-finished degree, and friends. What else could I need?”
“A hobby, maybe?” she said as she squirted soy sauce over her lunch.
“I have painting. In fact, I do it all the time. Finn gave me the attic to use just as an art room.” It had been the nicest thing he could have given me—my own little space where I could lose myself in my art.
She frowned, thinking as she chewed. When she swallowed, she said, “Okay, what about a puppy?”
My insides went gooey at the idea. We’d had lots of dogs and animals when I was growing up. Strays and those in need seemed to find us, and my parents would never turn someone in need away, whether they were human, dog, or chicken. In fact, I was missing having a pet, but it wasn’t an ideal time.
I shrugged as I pulled a piece of mushroom out of my salad sandwich and flicked it onto my plate. “Finn and I have talked about a puppy, but we’re both out all day, so it doesn’t seem fair.”
“Another hobby?” she suggested, undeterred. “I’ve heard skydiving is fun.”
A shiver raced down my spine. “And very high in the air. I’d probably faint from fear before I reached the ground. Besides, I spend most of my spare time painting.”
We sat in silence for almost a minute before her eyes flashed. “I know! What about knitting? You don’t need extra time for that. You can do it in front of the TV.”
I thought about celebrities I’d seen knitting on movie sets. They always seemed both Zen and hip at the same time. Of course, I’d tried using chopsticks once and failed so spectacularly that I’d ended up using them as a hair accessory instead, so my optimism wasn’t high that I could master any skill that used two straight sticks. But I was willing to give it a go.
I took my blue glasses off and gave them a quick wipe with my silky top. “That could work. But do you really think knitting can replace dating?”
“You won’t know until you try,” she said brightly, but I had a feeling she didn’t believe a word of it.
I checked the time—my lunch break was almost up, so I screwed the salad roll wrapper into a tight ball and threw it at the bin, making it by the barest of margins. “Okay, but in the meantime, you’ll still set me up with someone else, right?”
“Sure. And you can wear your new knitted scarf out on the date.”
As I headed back to my desk, I tried to picture myself knitting like a movie star, but couldn’t quite imagine it. Maybe if I bought some movie star sunglasses…
Finn
My cell rang as I was walking to class. Juggling the books in my arms, I dug the cell from my pocket and checked the screen—my youngest sister, Amelia. I thumbed the answer button.
“Hey, Amelia. Great to hear from you but I have exactly three minutes before I reach my class.” I called her at her boarding school every Sunday night and tried at least once during the week, too, but she usually called me at random times, and was used to catching me at awkward moments like this.
“Are you teaching them about rubbish piles today?” She giggled but it sounded a little fragile.
“No, this is a first year class. They dream of learning about ancient rubbish piles. They’re only up to pyramids.” I adjusted the books in my arms and moved the phone to my other ear. “So how are things?”
“Well, I have some news, and you have to promise not to get worked up.”