Page 20 of Christmas Sunrise
Arabella makes the first move, rising up on her toes so our mouths become more in line, but because I am so much taller, I still have to dip my head a little to meet her there. Just before our lips touch, I become aware of a tremble in my legs and I know it's only seconds before it rolls up the rest of my body, into my arms and possibly, embarrassingly into my mouth. That's what makes me dive down a little quicker and press my closed lips up against hers.
I have always liked kissing. It's one of the few things I did enjoy with some of the men I've been with. It's something I always wanted to do more than they did and it's something I haven't done in a long, long time. These are all good reasons for me to want to enjoy this kiss, but it's not as urgent a motive as the need for this kiss to mean something,besomething.
And so I focus everything on kissing Arabella, our closed lips pressing together, and I wait. I wait for a bolt of... lightning, desire, joy, enlightenment to hit me but it doesn't. Which makes sense, we're kissing like two old-age pensioners afraid to lose their false teeth. This will not do. I have to really kiss her if I'm going to get any kind of answer about my feelings for her, and her feelings for me. So I open my lips a little and slide my tongue over them one at a time, adding a little moisture to our kiss but also testing Arabella to see if she'll let me explore more. When her lips part and I feel the slick texture of her tongue glide over my bottom lip, I hold my breath. She's letting me kiss her, really kiss her.
Thatmeanssomething. Doesn't it?
When our tongues touch for the first time I do feel a bolt, but it's a sort of shake that wakes me up to what's happening. I'm kissing Arabella, my best friend of nearly twenty years. I don't feel sick or shocked about it exactly, but I also don't feel good about it. And I don't like that.
Maybe that means something too.
But I've come this far. I have to persevere. I have to try.
I pull my tongue away and close my mouth slightly, sucking Arabella's full bottom lip into my mouth, applying a little nip of my teeth to it. I feel Arabella's hands come to rest on my elbows and I can't tell if she does that to keep me close or keep the little distance there is between our bodies. And it's not the only confusing thing happening right now. Everything feels confusing, and I don't like that.
Of course, I'm over-thinking it, but the truth of the matter is it's not really a great kiss.I'm not melting. I'm not falling. I'm still standing in the doorway of a busy pub in Dublin on Christmas Eve with a group of blokes cheering and heckling at us close by.
And that's not what I want to feel. I want to feel more. I want this to be more. I want this to mean something. I need to have more.
Arabella's mouth isn't as open as mine is, and so my lips come to envelop both of hers at one point and when I then try to close them a little, she moves her lips down and away, and I end up kissing the soft skin around her mouth. I tilt my chin deeper, slide my hands down her back and try to find her lips again, but Arabella is already pulling away.
"Maeve," she says and her grip on my forearms is strong, as if she wants to hold me at a very clear and certain distance.
"Shit," I say and close my eyes. I daren't look at her. I daren't.
She squeezes her hands around my arms and it makes me open my eyes. "Come on, into the Ladies with you."
Giving me no time to protest or otherwise, she pulls me by the arm behind her as she charges down the corridor to the toilets. Once inside she leads me through a small cluster of women at the sinks and into a free cubicle.
"Sit," she says pointing at the closed toilet lid.
"Jesus Christ, you're bossy," I say but I follow her order.
"And you're not telling me something," she says. "What was that about?"
I sniff. "I thought we were giving those lads a show."
"Yeah, for a second or two, but there was... there was something else going on then."
"Jesus, Bella, don't make me—" I shake my head.
"I'm right, aren't I?"
The urge to cry is so strong I can't speak. I just nod my head while looking up at my friend.
"Oh, hamster, what is it?"
"I... I..." I try. I try so hard not to cry but the tears come anyway.
Her hands are back on my face and I feel a wave of relief at how secure and safe they feel again, not rigid and uncertain like her grip during the kiss.
"You know I love you, right?" I say in a whispering kind of shout. I need her to know how much I care about her and that will never change no matter what stupid thing I'm about to say.
"I know." She nods.
"Well, recently, like, for a few months now, maybe more, I've been wondering if I feel..."
Arabella's face falls. "Oh, fuck."
