by Jessica Roe
He makes a low growl of satisfaction in my mouth and I shiver with the pleasure coursing right through my body. An arm wraps around my waist as he backs me up against the shelf behind me. We stumble and hit it hard, boxes of cereal tumbling to the ground around us. I'm sure I hear a woman exclaim in outrage nearby, but I only care for a teeny tiny second before I decide screw her. Screw her and everyone else because Reid is really kissing me and it's more amazing than anything I could have imagined, and I imagined this a lot.
He lowers his lips to kiss my chin, my neck, my collar bone, and finally back up to my mouth. His kisses slow, until he places one final, sweet peck upon my thoroughly ravished lips before resting his forehead against mine. He still holds me tight against him as we pant hot breaths into each others mouths.
“You see?” he murmurs. “That's how good we could be.” He pushes himself away then, and without once looking back he strides right out of the store, leaving behind only my swollen lips and his abandoned basket to show he was ever here.
“Oh my God,” I whisper to myself, touching my fingers to my lips. I lean back against the shelf, numb.
People are watching me out of the corner of their eyes, and one woman is flat out staring. I would blush, but my whole body is already flushed anyway. How could it not be after a kiss like that? I've never been kissed like that before, like he was drowning and I was the very air he needed to breathe.
Blair chooses that moment to stroll back in, looking very smug with herself. She freezes when she sees my disheveled appearance and takes in the mess on the floor. One of her eyebrows arches up. “How the hell long was I gone for?”
Dahlia lays on her stomach across her bed, her long legs kicked up in the air behind her and the glasses she never wears in public perched on her nose. Books are scattered around her. Most people don't realize it, but though she parties hard, Dahlia works and studies even harder.
Every now and then she eyes me over the rim of her glasses, frustration making her shoulders stiff. She's waiting for me to talk but for once hasn't been forcing it. Obviously using all this restraint is taking its toll on her.
I'm pretending to study at our tiny little desk, but nothing is getting inside my brain. There's a big Reid shaped blockage and it's not going away. I don't think I even want it to go away. My eyes constantly drift towards the pocket watch on my desk – plain silver with an aqua colored gem in the middle – waiting for something. I just don't know what.
After an hour, Dahlia huffs and slams her current book closed. “Are you-”
“I'm not calling him,” I interrupt sharply. I already had this conversation with Blair at least eight times after she'd found me back in the grocery store. If she keeps calling Dahlia I'm really going to have to stop telling her things. The two of them are such a nuisance.
Dahlia sits up. Papers and books slide off her bed but she pays them no attention. “Why the hell not?”
“'Cause I'm just not.”
Dahlia falls silent after that. So silent I have to turn and check on her because a silent Dahlia is a suspicious Dahlia.
“No!” I screech, scrambling out of the desk chair and leaping on top of her as the sneaky bitch goes for my phone, left innocently on my pillow. We fall against my bed with a thump, our limbs tangling as we tussle.
“I'm. Calling. Him!” she snarls through gritted teeth. “Because I fucking love you, you dumb whore!”
“Well I love you too!” I practically growl. She manages to take control of the phone and holds it above her head triumphantly. I reach for it, but her stupid arms are too long. “Stop being such a psycho!”
“Nope, I-” Suddenly it rings in her hand. She squeaks in surprise and drops it on my shoulder.
“Ow!”
She waves off my pain. “Who is it? Whoisitwhoisitwhoisit?”
I snatch it up, my eyes widening in fear when Reid's name flashes across the screen. “It's him!” I don't know why, but I throw it to her like it's a piece of hot coal burning my fingers.
For all her bravado a minute earlier, she's now staring at the phone like it's about to sprout a pair of teeth and bite her. She tosses it back to me and I catch it with clammy hands.
“What do I do?”
“Answer it!” she hisses.
“I can't!”
“Why not, you unbelievable fuckwit?”
I actually don't have a reason for her, aside from the fact that I'm a humongous chicken. That's it.
Before I can even make my mind up, the phone falls silent. We both deflate in disappointment, but five seconds later it starts to ring again. This time I know what I want. Five seconds suddenly became an eternity.
“Hello?” I answer breathlessly. Dahlia bounces up and down on her knees excitedly so I glare and shoo her away. When she doesn't move, I climb up on my bed and cross my legs.
“Hey.” Reid's voice is husky and deep, yet has an element of uncertainty to it that warms my heart in an odd way. God, how I've missed that voice. “I'm outside.”
I almost sprint to the window just to check, but it's not like I'd be able to see him from here anyway. Instead, all I say is, “Give me five minutes.”
It ends up being more like ten minutes. Well, fifteen. Okay, twenty.
But I had to brush my teeth and fix my hair and change out of my yoga pants into skinny jeans and a cute, white lacy top. Then Dahlia insisted on fixing my make-up because my hands were shaking too much. I don't know why they were shaking. I don't even know why I made such an effort – Reid's seen me looking much worse and it's not like things have changed between us just because of one kiss.
One earth shattering, life altering kiss.
The best kiss of my entire frakking life.
Oh boy.
By the time I clatter downstairs in my gray ankle boots, Reid is leaning against his bike and watching the night sky. A couple of girls saunter past him, but he doesn't seem to notice the way they preen to get his attention.
He doesn't appear annoyed at my delay, or even surprised for that matter. He knows me way too well to know that five minutes is ever really going to be five minutes.
The awkwardness rears its ugly head as he stands up straight and we face each other. He hooks his thumbs into his belt loops, swinging his elbows back and forth.
“Hey,” I say to break the silence.
“Hey.” A small smile graces his lips, though it doesn't reach his eyes. “You hungry?”
I nod, though I'm really, really not. “Starved.”
We ride to Reid's favorite diner and slide in a booth across from each other. I order a questionable looking salad and he gets a burger, though for once he doesn't inhale his food like it's the first meal he's eaten in a week.
It's uncomfortable. I don't care though – it's just so amazing to be near him again that I'd take all the discomfort in the world.
We make small talk. I tell him about college and recount stories of Dahlia's latest exploits and show him a picture my daddy sent me of my little brother, Lance, dressed as Pinocchio for his school play. He tells me about an awesome tattoo of a sword wielding vampire mermaid he's working on for some goth chick, and about how he went to visit his mom the other day and caught her making out with Digby.
“I almost punched him in the face,” Reid admits. “But I know he'll take care of her.”
I nod in understanding, having definitely been there. Blair + Silver = super weird.
It's not long before Reid finally gets to the point of tonight.
“I'm sorry about earlier,” he says, pushing away his plate. He's looking down and not meeting my eyes, so I can't be sure whether he actually means it. Do I want him to mean it? Do I want him to be sorry?
“Sorry about what exactly?”
“About kissing you.”
That hurts in ways it definitely shouldn't, which really makes no sense at all since I'm the stupid one who keeps pushing him away.
He finally looks up at me, an eyebrow raising when I fail to hide my expr
ession quickly enough. “I mean, it was a good kiss-”
“Just good?”
The glint returns to his eyes, the mischievous one I've missed so much. “Okay, incredible.”
“Mind blowing.”
“Fucking awesome.”
I shake my head. “Can't top mind blowing.”
“True. Mind blowing then. It was a mind blowing kiss, but I shouldn't have done it.
This is the point where I tell him that he should have done it, that he should have done it weeks ago, that he should have done it that first time I ever came back to him that day in the tattoo shop. Or I should have done it. One of us should definitely have done it. Then I would reach across this sticky table and grab him by the shirt and yank him to me so we could carry on where we left off in the grocery store, all hands and lips and incredible, delicious feelings.
But I don't, because I'm a coward.
Jemma the Coward, died alone because she was lame. And predictable.
That's what they'll engrave on my tombstone.
Blair and Dahlia were right about me all along.
Reid's hand twitches on the table, as if he was about to reach for mine but thought better of it. “But I miss you, Cindy.”
“I miss you too,” I breathe out in relief.
He really does reach for my hand this time, smiling lightly. He rubs his thumb over the soft skin of my wrist. A tattooed letter on each of his knuckles and his thumb spells out PEACE – another tribute to his father. “I just want us to hang out again. I'll be your friend, Jem. If that's all you want then that's what I'll be.”
I nod, though I feel close to tears – and not happy ones. “Friends sounds good,” I agree, trying to ignore the bitter taste it leaves in my mouth.
This is what I wanted, right?
Like we promised, Reid and I start spending time together again. As friends. We pretend it's the same as it was before, but it's not. Not really. Now there's just this uncertain thing hovering over our heads, this unspeakable feeling we try to ignore though it seems as if it touches everything we do. Nothing is easy like it used to be, nothing feels the same.
Unlike before, I now hang with his friends. Not the creepy drug addicts like Gal, because he was just gross and Reid promised we'd never have to see him again, but others. Like Walt, who turned out to be a jerk to me only about eighty percent of the time. The other day he even snorted at one of my jokes, and it was a damn-can't-stop-myself-even-though-I-don't-want-to-find-you-funny kind of snort, and not the I-hate-everything-you-say kind like he usually makes whenever I open my mouth. There's Christen too, and even Fábia. Fábia and I will never be bff's, but we haven't had any catfights (yet), and I call that an all around win.
When Reid and I are alone it's just. . .weird. It's like we have to be super careful not to accidentally touch each other, like something bad will happen if we do. Or something amazing.
It's agonizing, frustrating, and worst of all is the knowledge that it's all on me.
It's all my fault.
“Just try the wine,” I try to persuade my stubborn sister as we get ready in her and Silver's bedroom. “It's way nicer than beer. I don't know how you can drink that stuff. Ugh.”
Blair rolls her eyes but obligingly takes a sip of my Merlot. She pulls a face. “Still gross. Gimme beer, woman.”
“You're such a dude.”
“Stop yo' bickering, bitches,” Ibbie commands. “No bickering allowed on girls' night.”
“Quit calling it girls' night,” Blair complains. “Girls' night sounds dumb.”
Dahlia shakes her head with a devious smile, her dark curls cascading over her shoulders. “I have to disagree – girls' night sounds delicious.” She and Ibbie toast. “Wait, Ib, don't you have an audition tomorrow morning? Should you be drinking?”
“No, it got moved to nexterday. Something about a problem with the director. Probably got caught boinking his assistant.”
“What the hell is nexterday?”
“The day after tomorrow. Jeez,” she says, like her insane language should be obvious. “I'm gonna be the most awesome Elizabeth Bennet ever. It'll be amaze.” She holds two dresses up against her body. Blair and Silver's bedroom is a wild mess of outfits and make-up and shoes. So many shoes – it's like heaven. The four of us have somehow managed to cover every available surface – Silver is going to freak. “Which one, girls?”
“The blue one.” Blair bounces across the bed on her knees and snatches away the other. “'Cause the red is all mine.”
“Red is your color Ya know, 'cause you're the devil and stuff.”
Blair sticks out her tongue in response, shimmying out of her jeans and tee and sliding the strapless red dress over her head. She looks gorgeous, as usual. Though Blair can pull pretty much anything off.
“If you're wearing that then you need your hair up,” I tell her, maneuvering her off the bed and onto the bench seat by her dressing table. Their bedroom is kind of small, just big enough for the bed and the dressing table and the closet, with a teeny tiny window showing off the view of the apartment building behind them. Yet like the rest of their place, it's totally them. “So people can see your neck – you have a great neck. Here, let me do it.”
She sits still for me, letting me brush her hair and slide in the bobby pins. I like doing things like this – it feels like the kind of thing we'd have done if we'd gotten the chance to grow up together as sisters instead of only meeting as surly seventeen year olds.
Without even seeming to notice she's doing it, she reaches up and fingers her silver stripe. There's this tiny smile always visible on her face, always lighting up her eyes, like she's figured out the secret to true happiness and is just waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.
“Blair?” I begin hesitantly. I finish sliding the last pin into her hair and drop my hands to my sides. Instead of looking at her, I stare at a strip of photos taped to the edge of the mirror. It's one of those ones you get in booths at the mall – Silver must have bribed her into it because Blair would never voluntarily do something so cheesy. In the top picture they're pulling faces, in the second Blair is sticking out her tongue while Silver nuzzles her cheek, in the third they're kissing, and in the bottom picture they're still kissing. With tongues, which is gross but very cute. They probably got caught up and forgot where they were. “What does it feel like to be in love?”
All three girls fall silent, and then. . .
“Oh my effing God! I knew it, I knew you were in love! I said it when we were watching The Notebook. I'm such a psychic! Ibbie the Psychic – that has such a cool ring to it. Don't you think? You totally think, right?”
Dahlia is less impressed. “And you're only just realizing how completely banana pants you are for your guy now? Damn, girl! My six month old nephew is faster than you.”
“What does it feel like to be in love? Really? Quick, someone put on the sappy music so we can all talk about our feelings and crap.” That last one comes from my loving sister, of course. Considering she's the only one here actually in love, she can be so unromantic.
I find a spare bobby pin and stab her in the head with it, just because.
“Sorry, my bad,” she apologizes, probably realizing that right now while I'm in the middle of a worrying existential crisis isn't exactly the best time to be a sarcastic bitch. She spins on the bench seat to look up at me. “Is this about Reid?”
I sit down on the edge of her bed, careful not to crease my black and blue dress. “Maybe.” I shrug, staring down at where the tips of my toes peep out from my black stilettos. These babies are so high I'll be paying for it tomorrow for sure, but they're pretty, so. . .worth it. Reid would tell me I'm a dumb ass “I don't know.”
This isn't a lie – I really don't know. How is one supposed to know these things? Am I in love with Reid?
What I do know is that I miss him terribly when he's not with me. I miss him right now and I saw him at lunch. He brought me cream bagels. We strolled through Times S
quare and made fun of tourists and Reid almost got into a fistfight with a guy who accidentally bumped into me while rushing by. I pretended to be mad at him, but the whole alpha protective deal was so hot. I even almost canceled girls' night tonight in favor of hanging with him, which is just crazy talk.
And then there are the feelings, the constant ache. Like when I'm with him I'm happy, but I ache. Is that normal? Is it normal to ache because of someone you're not in love with?
Clearly sensing my downright neediness, Blair moves to sit next to me on the bed so we're shoulder to shoulder. She elbows me gently. “Okay, it's like. . .” Blowing out a puff of air, she glances towards the ceiling as if looking for answers.
This kind of stuff doesn't come easy for Blair, I know that. Talking about her feelings and opening up emotionally is difficult for her, because growing up she had to work hard to teach herself to block everyone else out, to lock up her heart. It was the only way she could get by when living with a mother who cared more about getting her next fix than she did about Blair. It wasn't until she moved to Fortune and discovered what it was to have a family and people who truly loved her that she began to trust in others, to trust them with her heart.
Although I won't lie, we messed up a lot that first year. My family and I judged her unfairly and blamed her for our own mistakes because she was a pretty convenient scapegoat. If she was the one in the wrong then we didn't have to look at our own faults. It still shames me to this day to think how we treated her when she first came to us. I can only imagine how she felt back then – scared, alone, grieving the death of a woman who, despite being purely awful, was still her mother. Even Silver got it wrong plenty of times – though that's a whole other ball game.
We're just lucky that Blair is the kind of person who forgives easily, otherwise we might have lost her forever.
“Being in love is like. . .” she tries again, clearing her throat. “It's like being crazy terrified yet wicked happy, all at once. Like there's this one person who completely owns you, every bit of you – your heart, your love, your soul – and all they have to do is smile at you and suddenly it feels like you could do anything, like you could take on the whole world, just as long as you were together. But when you're apart, nothing feels okay. The world is just dull, and boring, and. . .pointless.” She pauses, her shoulders hunching as if she feels she's admitted too much. “God, you guys better not tell Silver I said any of that. He'll get a big head.” After considering a moment, she amends, “An even bigger head.”