Kiss

by Francine Pascal

  A Real Kiss GAIA WAS DREAMING A BLISSFUL dream. Surrounded as she was by the smell and feel of Sam, by his place and his things, it was natural that she should dream of him vividly. In the dream he was there beside her, sitting on the edge of the bed. He was so close, she could feel his warmth and smell his smell more intensely. An alive smell now. He took her hand so gently and held it. Just held it. Making her safe. Consciousness was tickling her eyelids, summoning her. Please, sleep, stay with me. Don't make me go back yet. But it was happening. She couldn't help it. She was waking up in spite of every effort to fight it. She flicked open her eyes. No. She closed them again. How could it be? She opened them again. Was the dream still with her? . . . Or was it . . . "Sam?" she whispered, her heart filled with awe. He was still holding her hand. In the dream and . . . here. He was still holding it, one of his hands cupping her fingers, the other holding her wrist. His beautiful hands

  Siren Song "I LOVE YOU," SAM WHISPERED against her neck. "I love you." He'd always wondered what it would take to say those words, how much he'd have to push and prompt and coach himself to utter them. He didn't realize it wouldn't require any intention at all -- that the words could come without thought or plan, as naturally and passionately and irreversibly as a kiss, without waiting for his consent. Suddenly he felt her weight sink into his arms. "Gaia." He pulled her up to him, finding her face with his lips, kissing her eyelids. They were closed. "Gaia?" Her eyes didn't open. She breathed a sigh. Her head fell forward, resting against his chest. "Gaia?" He cradled her head in the crook of his elbow and tipped her back gently. "Gaia? Are you all right? Gaia?" She had fainted. She was motionless in his arms. All the feelings whirring in his chest changed directions, from pure exultation to surprise and fear. He picked her up in his arms, cradling her against him. "Gaia. Gaia!" He jo

  Heaven GAIA WAS FLOATING. SAM WAS there, holding her hand. There were unfamiliar people, sounds, words, things she couldn't make sense of, but there was always Sam. He held her. He gave her his warmth. "I love you." The words came to her in Sam's voice. She wanted very much to open her eyes and see if it really was Sam, and if so, to see if he was talking to her when he said them, as she fervently hoped he was. And if he was saying those words to her, and maybe even if he wasn't, she wanted to say the same words to him. But she couldn't. She couldn't open her eyes or make words. Was she alive anymore? Was Sam real? Was he really there with her? Maybe it was him. More likely it was heaven. But if this was heaven, if this was what death felt like, then it was okay with her.

  HEATHER I've been trying to figure out why I don t have any tears for Sam tonight. I do hate him at the moment; that's true. But I thought I loved him. All this time I figured I haven't been able to cry over him because I'm too numb. I'm too bottled up and confused to feel things very well. I never imagined the possibility that I didn't love him. Because I do love him. I mean, I'm pretty sure I do. I mean, I do. Don't I? You know what's really retarded? An hour after Sam left, I called Ed Fargo. Then I remembered he was in Pennsylvania. He was there for Thanksgiving with his weird, obese grandmother who called me Feather.

  hunger Then the memories fell into fragments and shards that didn't make any sense at all.

  More Disappointment ELLA ROLLED HER EYES AT THE emergency-room doctor in St. Vincent's Hospital. This was a night of highs and lows, currently stuck on low. The doctor was talking about Gaia, bleating words like concussion and subdural something and hematoma something else. But he wasn't saying anything about "slashed to ribbons," which was what Ella really wanted to hear. She was jubilant when she d first gotten the call from the hospital, sure that her plans had gone off without a hitch. Then she entered a period of confusion after she arrived at the hospital, during which it appeared that Gaia hadn't been slashed at Penn Station. Gaia, she was told, had spent several semidelirious hours before a doting Sam Moon brought her to the hospital, unconscious, from his NYU dormitory. The girl who'd been slashed (Ella had followed the story excitedly on the eleven o'clock news) was not Gaia, and yet Gaia had found her way to the hospital with some grave problem nonetheless. Ella perked up wh

  One Witness SAM WATCHED GAIA'S EYELIDS for signs of her waking. Just in the last five minutes she'd opened and closed her eyes three times, once almost focusing on his face. His heart soared. Dr. Sengupta said she was going to be okay, and he was starting to believe it. Sam ran his thumb from the tip of her index finger up her hand and wrist to the soft underside of her forearm. Her eyes flickered. He leaned over her and buried a gentle kiss on her neck. That was more for him than her. He hoped she didn't mind. The hint ofa smile seemed to pull at the side ofher mouth. Or did he just imagine that? What he really wanted to do was to climb into the narrow bed and press her close to him, to hold her with his whole body until she woke up. And after she woke up, too. But you weren't really supposed to do that in a hospital, were you? Most people hated hospitals, and in theory, Sam did, too. But this hospital, on two separate occasions, had brought him closer to Gaia. It was the site of some

  Disappointment x 1,000,000,000 IT WAS HARD AND CRUEL. IT downright sucked. In her dream, hovering someplace beyond the living, Gaia had Sam. He held her and told her he loved her. Here, in reality, she had Ella. She wished she could go back to being dead. " . . . You have quite a track record, Gaia. Twice in the hospital in two months," Ella was blathering. "You're going to send George's insurance premiums into the stratosphere." Gaia exerted all her strength propping herself up in the hospital bed. It made her uncomfortable for Ella to see her lying down. " . . . And insurance only covers eighty percent of the bill, you know," Ella continued pettily. Gaia looked down at her hands. They felt cold and lonely. "Thanks a lot, Ella," she said numbly. "That makes me feel a lot better. If the photography thing doesn't work out, maybe you could get a job with Hallmark in the get-well-card department." Ella exhaled in annoyance. "And you're a rude ingrate as well." Gaia closed her eyes, wrappi

  S A M I had a terrible thought when I woke up this morning in the bed that Gaia and I had shared, briefly, last night. I had the thought that I dreamed the whole thing. I would have stuck with the thought, but I smelled Gaia's faint, sweet smell in my bed. I found more than one long blond hair on my pillow. I found a somewhat tattered red dress and shoes balled up in my garbage can. I confirmed that my undershirt and boxers were, in fact, missing. Then I had a fear that was worse than the thought. I was afraid that it had actually happened, but that Gaia wasn't there. I mean, her body was there. But she was so badly hurt and delirious, and practically comatose, that everything I imagined between us happened to me. Only to me. This fear makes me physically sick because I hate the thought of having taken advantage of her in some way. Selfishly, that's not even the very worst part. Even worse, I fear I've opened my stubborn, tyrannical heart to an event -- a girl -- so stunning and miracu

  GAIA Maybe Ella was telling me the truth. Maybe I was discovered by the cops, raving outside of Sam's dormitory, and taken to the hospital alone. But when I stepped out of the hospital bed after my night of observation and walked my bleary self into the bathroom, I discovered something peculiar. Under my hospital robe, I was wearing a man's undershirt and a man's boxers. These are things I know I do not own. I don't care how hard I banged my head. At the back of the boxers, just under the waistband, scrawled in permanent black marker are two wonderful words. Can you guess them? 1. Sam 2. Moon These pieces of physical evidence happen to fit with some memory shards I have -- fuzzy, I'll admit. I have bits of memories of being in Sam's dorm room, and putting those things on. I'm not saying Sam definitely kissed me. I'm not saying he told me he loved me or anything like that. I'm just saying, maybe Ella was wrong. Maybe she lied. Maybe. In all honesty, I don't even want to find out for sur

  here is a sneak peek of Fearless #6: PAYBACK R O M E O There was something very satisfying about hearing them scream. He usually let them get out one, good, loud one before he covered their mouths. No one ever responded to one quick scream. They wrote it off as playing. Or a spid
er sighting. Or crying wolf. And he so loved the scream. It made him feel alive. It pumped him up. It made the sex so much better. He sat down on his floor and pulled out his black lock box from beneath his bed, flying through the combination with a quick three flicks of the wrist. Inside was his prized possession. The only thing he d ever had worth locking up. His journal. His list. His conquests. He pulled out the tattered book with its dog-eared pages and cloth cover that was just starting to pull away from the cardboard beneath. Soon it would be time for a new book. But it would be so hard to let this one go. It was like an old friend. It knew all his secrets. All his successes. All his triumphs. Turning to

  Unnamed

  sideburns tim Spiky, messy hair. Sideburns. Expensive flannel. Not threatening. Definitely not asking for a beating.

  Basic get-away-from-me signals GAIA STOOD ON LINE IN THE cafeteria on Monday afternoon between two groups of people she couldn't possibly have detested more. The F.O.H.'s (Friends Of Heather) or "foes" as she liked to call them, and the turtleneck-wearing jock-boys. If there was ever a time to cave in to modern technology and use a walkman, this was it. Words were being wasted all around her and she would have given anything for a nice pair of headphones and a lot of guitar-type noise. "Omigod!" one foe squealed. "You totally should have been at CBGB's last night. The hottest guy opened for Fearless. He was like a Lenny-Rob hybrid." "Not possible," foe number two said, sniffing a bowl of Jell-O in a perfect imitation of a rabbit, and replacing the bowl on the counter. "God couldn't possibly have blessed anyone with genes like that." "He's playing again in two weeks," said foe number three, the one with the biggest hair ever to spring from a scalp. "Come and see for yourself." "I am so

  Screw Him AS GAIA LOWERED HERSELF INTO the chair across from Ed, he plucked a little piece of bright pink paper from her overloaded tray. "Come one. Come all," Ed read aloud. "Free beer. Free music. Free love." He chuckled and placed the tiny flyer on the table between them. "Going hippy on me, Gaia?" She lifted one shoulder as she took a swig of her soda. "Some guy gave it to me," she said, jabbing a meatball with her fork. Ed's stomach turned over, and not just because she was actually consuming a cafeteria-made meat substance. Another guy? More guys? Didn't he have enough to deal with? "Who?" Ed asked, trying to keep the psychotic jealousy out of his voice. It was still there, but if she noticed, she didn't show a sign. She just chomped on another meatball as her eyes scanned the room. "Him," she said finally, pointing with her fork across the large cafeteria at Tim Racenello. Abercrombie boy. Skier. Former friend. Definitely charming. Damn. "Are you going to go?" Ed asked, pushing

  First ever Monday smile HE WAS IN HER ENGLISH CLASS. How convenient. She'd never noticed him before, but there he was. Front row, window seat. Good view and a fast escape route. And he was eating a Hostess cupcake. That was comforting. At least he had good taste in food. Gaia made her way across the room, her battered sneak-ers squeaking loudly on the linoleum floor. He didn't see her and she didn't exactly have an opening line, so she dropped the bag she was carrying on his desk with a half flop, half clatter. If he was startled, he hid it well. He chewed, swallowed, and looked up. His eyebrows arched when he saw her, but he recovered quickly and leaned back in his chair, smiling up at her. He had chocolate stuck to his two front teeth. "If it isn't Gaia the Brave," he said, running his tongue quickly along his bottom teeth to clear the sugary goo. It didn't help the top portion of his mouth, but Gaia wasn't about to point that out. "Got another one?" she asked, pushing a strand of ha

  Sick of Everything HEATHER GANNIS WAS HAVING a very bad day, and trying to keep herself from screaming in the middle of English class wasn't making it any easier. Sam was avoiding her, her best friends had all gone out the night before without her and couldn't shut up about it, and the only reason she hadn't gone was because she had fully expected Sam to call her, which he, of course, hadn't. She traced the pink line down the side of her paper with her pen, pushing so hard she tore a hole in the page. She was getting so sick of everything. Sick of Sam's avoidance ofconflict policy. Sick of her friends who dropped money on cab rides and bars like they were a necessity. Sick, most of all, of Gaia Moore. Mr. MacGregor sauntered into the room and immediately started passing out pop quiz papers. Lovely. What kind of person gave a quiz the day after Thanksgiving weekend? It was like the man lived to see students suffer. What next? Was her hair going to start falling out in clumps? Heather ad

  ROMEO Normally, I don t go in with a plan. I never know who I'm going to want until I m in the moment. I do have a special place in my heart for brunettes, though. They often think they re ordinary. Plain. Not sexy. They act like they have something to prove. And that always makes things more interesting. But I'm not averse to the occasional blonde. Redhead. Asian, African-American, Indian, Latina, etc., etc. I'm not averse to anything. Like I said, it depends how I feel in the moment. Tonight, however, I have a plan. Two, actually. One brunette. One blonde. Maybe neither will resist. But hopefully at least one of them will. It's the breaking-down process that makes for riveting reading.

  ready and willing "Come on, Gaia," Ella said, placing her napkin on the table. She was all glee. "Tell George about your little Sam."

  Ella's Salvation EVEN AFTER HEATHER. EVEN after Marco. After David. After her father. After every deranged, psychotic, evil, slimy, grime-covered, bad-cologne-wearing, midnight assailant. Even after dealing with each and every one of these hateful beings, Gaia could quite honestly say she had never felt so much rage before in her life. And from the look on Ella Niven's face, the woman was just smart enough to know that this rage was directed at her. "You lied to me," Gaia said. There was no surprise in her voice. Only the rage. Ella's face went white for a moment underneath her layers of foundation and powder. She backed away from the foul-smelling sludge she was frying into a black pulp on the stove, and crossed her arms over her chest. Gaia wondered if Ella was remembering when Gaia punched her. Remembering and fearing. God, she hoped she was. "I don't appreciate your tone, Gaia," Ella said, wiping her hands on her ruffled apron. Gaia was surprised the woman even knew what an apron w