around
though, trying to control my expression. “Becka,” he says softly, from a lot
closer to me than I expected. I pivot to find him less than a foot away from
me. “I’m sorry. That was too fast, too intense. I didn’t mean to do that.” His
voice is all gentle contrition.
“No Justin,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be all leady-on and rejecty,” I blurt out. “I just,
this all kind of surprised me. You know?” My voice is more pleading than I
expected, and not just a little pathetic.
Justin
considers before asking, “Surprising amazing or surprising terrible?”
His
question stretches into the night. I sit on the cool stone retaining wall at
the edge of the garden. Away from the bright lights and with the dance music
muted by the open air, it’s easier to think. It’s also easier to have this
conversation without Justin being able to read every expression on my face. The
down side of being with someone who’s known you forever; it doesn’t matter what
I try to say, he always know what the truth is.
Justin sits
beside me, near enough that our shoulders will touch if I lean just a little
bit to the side. “Surprising in a confusing way. Not terrible, definitely not
terrible.” I’m really talking more to myself as I try to cess it all out. “But
really really mind bending.”
“Definitely
not terrible?” Justin repeats my words softly and touches my face gently,
turning my head so that I’m looking at him in the soft shadows of the night. He
gazes into my eyes, reading what’s there. I feel myself trembling, either from
the chill of the stone seeping into my skin or from his nearness, or a little
of both. He leans towards me, closing the distance between us so slowly that I
could easily lean away. Instead I hold very still. He kisses me softly, his
lips touching mine with the barest of pressures. I close my eyes and let the
feeling of him so close to me race down my body, thrilling at the contact. And
then he pulls away. I feel his eyes on my face and I open my eyes, smiling.
It was a
great kiss; soft, warm, full of tingling chemistry. I can tell by the bemused
look on Justin’s face that he feels it too. If we stay here, like this, he’ll
probably kiss me again, and again. A part of me wants that but I force myself
to scoot away from him on the wall. Not far enough to imply a rejection, just
far enough to give me some breathing room and make a second kiss less imminent.
“Can we hit pause a second?” I ask.
He smiles
affectionately, no trace of resentment or hurt in his expression. “Absolutely.
Why don’t we go back in, dance a little, have some fun?” He jumps up off the
wall briskly and holds out his hand to me, all easy going confidence.
I stand,
but lean against the wall. “Actually, can I meet you in there in a couple? I
think I need a few minutes just to, kind of, get a grip on things.” I could
never have said that to a regular boy, but Justin will understand.
Justin nods,
backing a few paces from me, “I’ll see you inside.”
I sit back
down as he walks away. Now that he’s safely inside, I have the sinking feeling
that I’ve been making some very reckless decisions. I’m still flip flopping
between berating myself and savouring the feeling of his lips when I hear sharp
voices, arguing in the darkness of the garden, beyond the wall.
In the
shadows of the wall I’m invisible, so I strain to hear what the argument is
about but the voices are foreign and difficult to pick out clearly. Curious I
creep along the wall, until I’m positioned so I can see into the elaborate, old
fashioned English garden. I have my hands braced against the wall, my bare
knees buried in the damp grass. There are three boys, standing in a
though, trying to control my expression. “Becka,” he says softly, from a lot
closer to me than I expected. I pivot to find him less than a foot away from
me. “I’m sorry. That was too fast, too intense. I didn’t mean to do that.” His
voice is all gentle contrition.
“No Justin,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be all leady-on and rejecty,” I blurt out. “I just,
this all kind of surprised me. You know?” My voice is more pleading than I
expected, and not just a little pathetic.
Justin
considers before asking, “Surprising amazing or surprising terrible?”
His
question stretches into the night. I sit on the cool stone retaining wall at
the edge of the garden. Away from the bright lights and with the dance music
muted by the open air, it’s easier to think. It’s also easier to have this
conversation without Justin being able to read every expression on my face. The
down side of being with someone who’s known you forever; it doesn’t matter what
I try to say, he always know what the truth is.
Justin sits
beside me, near enough that our shoulders will touch if I lean just a little
bit to the side. “Surprising in a confusing way. Not terrible, definitely not
terrible.” I’m really talking more to myself as I try to cess it all out. “But
really really mind bending.”
“Definitely
not terrible?” Justin repeats my words softly and touches my face gently,
turning my head so that I’m looking at him in the soft shadows of the night. He
gazes into my eyes, reading what’s there. I feel myself trembling, either from
the chill of the stone seeping into my skin or from his nearness, or a little
of both. He leans towards me, closing the distance between us so slowly that I
could easily lean away. Instead I hold very still. He kisses me softly, his
lips touching mine with the barest of pressures. I close my eyes and let the
feeling of him so close to me race down my body, thrilling at the contact. And
then he pulls away. I feel his eyes on my face and I open my eyes, smiling.
It was a
great kiss; soft, warm, full of tingling chemistry. I can tell by the bemused
look on Justin’s face that he feels it too. If we stay here, like this, he’ll
probably kiss me again, and again. A part of me wants that but I force myself
to scoot away from him on the wall. Not far enough to imply a rejection, just
far enough to give me some breathing room and make a second kiss less imminent.
“Can we hit pause a second?” I ask.
He smiles
affectionately, no trace of resentment or hurt in his expression. “Absolutely.
Why don’t we go back in, dance a little, have some fun?” He jumps up off the
wall briskly and holds out his hand to me, all easy going confidence.
I stand,
but lean against the wall. “Actually, can I meet you in there in a couple? I
think I need a few minutes just to, kind of, get a grip on things.” I could
never have said that to a regular boy, but Justin will understand.
Justin nods,
backing a few paces from me, “I’ll see you inside.”
I sit back
down as he walks away. Now that he’s safely inside, I have the sinking feeling
that I’ve been making some very reckless decisions. I’m still flip flopping
between berating myself and savouring the feeling of his lips when I hear sharp
voices, arguing in the darkness of the garden, beyond the wall.
In the
shadows of the wall I’m invisible, so I strain to hear what the argument is
about but the voices are foreign and difficult to pick out clearly. Curious I
creep along the wall, until I’m positioned so I can see into the elaborate, old
fashioned English garden. I have my hands braced against the wall, my bare
knees buried in the damp grass. There are three boys, standing in a
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