Page 62 of The Sun and Her Star

I’ve imagined this kiss. I thought I was prepared for it. But now I know that the myths, the sonnets, the odes to kisses haveallbeen flimsy, feeble, failed attempts to describe the indescribable.

Thereareno words for the exquisite, explosive moment your lips touch those of the person who is the keeper of your heart.

Thisis a glorious exhibition of years of wanting.

Thisis a dormant dream, refusing to be deferred for one more second.

It erupts, disrupts, and gives life to all of my secret, unspoken wishes.

My lips absorb the imprint of his.

Nothing short of his kiss will ever be enough. Not for as long as I live.

When his tongue slides against mine, I tremble and open to him.

It feels like falling off the edge of a cliff.

I woulddiefor Graham to belong to me and me alone. The way I know I’ll always belong to him.

I would wait forever for him.

I would walk through fire.

I would scale mountains and swim oceans. I would let him take everything he needed from me, and then give him more until I had nothing left.

Once upon a time, he had been my compass.

My star.

But, I can’t do this anymore. Not for one more day.

Loving Graham iskillingme.

Slowly.

Softly.

Surely.

This time, though, as I fly off the side of the cliff, I know I’ll have to save myself.

Slowly, with an aching reluctance and gnawing regret, my hands slip from his hair. My lips, having had what they want, must now yield to whatIneed.

I break our kiss and almost choke on the burning ball of woe in my chest when his hands clutch at me as I pull out of his grasp. I stare at the floor while I try to catch my breath.

In my periphery, I can see his hands clenching and relaxing repeatedly.

“I’ve had enough. I’m leaving,” I say wearily. I stuff my feet into my flats and then bend to tie them.

He grabs my arms, but I can’t look at him.

“I know you can’t understand. I know you’re angry at me. You should be. But, I need you, Apollo. Believe it or not,I am yours. And, you can’t give me back.” His voice breaks and my will cracks.

The ache in his voice feels like salt in my wound. The sting of it snuffs out the lingering intoxication from our kiss.

I raise burning eyes to him. “This is allyour fault!” I shout at him.

He takes a step back, his face pales. I count to five in my head and speak in a quieter voice.

---