Page 46 of Omega Artist
“Aren’t you the cocky one!”
“Shocker! But tell me I’m wrong.”
He shrugs again, and I take that as a concession. “Come on, it was dark. Remember?”
“Oh, I remember alright, Queen Hen. But you could’ve pushed me away or slapped me, and you kissed me back...” Of course, I kissed him back. A devious smile flashes across his face. “Because you’d been dying to experience it for a while but were too chickenshit to go first.” His mouth returns to the straw. His mouth returns to his drink. His mouth returns to haunt me.
“I wasn’t afraid. I was curious how long you’d wait to make a move. It took you long enough!”
Yeah, and I’m very surprised about that; aren’t you the fast and furious type?
“Are you complaining now?”
“I wouldn’t dare. It was a damn good kiss.” His smile switches to confident.
Why deny it or be shy about it?
“Thanks! And I agree with you. It was a damn good kiss!”
As much as I enjoy screwing with Tig, our kiss forced me to adapt. He stole it from me and I was too floored to react, apart from gladly returning the gesture to get things back on track according to my plan. Scratch that, I saidgladlyreturning, and I meant it. As it happens, the unexpected kiss unlocked something in me that I never suspected existed. That’s why I chose to ignore it at first.
I remember every second of our blissful first kiss. I remember every emotion of our scorching first kiss. I remember every sensation of our awakening first kiss.
How his lips were soft yet commanding. How his tongue was timid yet bold. How his scruff was teasing yet comforting.
When I was a young girl, I’d heard some friends discuss how some guys were good kissers and others weren’t; I didn’t understand what they meant. To me, you kissed, period. Thanks to the man that I used to despise, I now realize how clueless I’ve been. It seems that he poured everything he had into that kiss. And suddenly, kissing meant something. No, no, no! Kissinghimmeant everything.
Hence, the complete mystery that he suddenly became to me. Hence, the insane attraction that he effortlessly aroused in me. Hence, the ridiculous state that he magically put me in.
Isn’t a kiss supposed to mean something when the feelings behind it are genuine? Is he trying to prove that I can receive the best kiss ever from someone I don’t care for? Is a fairytale kiss more than a legend about awakening a numb princess from her trance?
The more I thought about the kiss, the more I hated him.
Seeing signs promoting Valentine’s Day specials around every corner didn’t help. Every time I saw a sappy commercial with a kiss, I was transported back to our panty-dropping kiss. No wonder I gave into him so easily and happily reciprocated while we were on the subway that day. I blame the darkness for letting my guard down. I blame the darkness for getting lost in the amazing kiss. I blame the darkness for hiding the appearance of the overly tattooed man I abhor in favor of the skillful mouth that made love to mine… because frankly, there’s no other way to put it.
The more we kissed, the more I wanted him.
It isn’t like me to be irrational, but when I went to bed that night, my body couldn’t stop shaking. At first, I mistook my reaction for bliss; my nerves were so topsy-turvy that it felt like a million tiny ants were coursing all over my body. I tossed and turned, unable to relax. Exhausted, I growled in frustration and tossed the covers off of my sweaty body. Sitting up straight, I grabbed the bottle of water from the nightstand and drank from the bottle while trying to calm down. Thank God, I had decided to stay in Brooklyn; or else, I would’ve woken my family up with my adolescent behavior. And that’s when I grasped that the sting in my chest wasn’t due to nerves, but jealousy. I wanted to be the one that he delivered searing kisses to; I thought of the scores of women that he had kissed before. Instantly, I hated them, assuming that the kisses he gave them were as good; I was jealous. Instantly, I hated my sister for being one of them, as I started to grasp her obsession with him; I was jealous. Instantly, I hated myself for having such absurd thoughts; I was jealous. I barely slept that night. So, after that, I put my scheming on hold for a bit to explore the extent of his skills. The earlier I knew, the more swiftly my plans would be fulfilled. Win-win situation, right?
The more I relived the kiss, the more I wanted him.
“You know you’re gonna have to go up there, right?” Tig’s question breaks through my thoughts. I long for another kiss, though, and sooner rather than later, if you ask me.
“What?” My splayed palm clutches my chest dramatically. “No way! I’m not singing and dancing. I might even choose the slow song category, so…” I giggle and mentally chastise myself for intertwining his fingers with mine.
Wow, you’re really buzzed, girl!
“Nah…. Didn’t you check the options by the front door? There’s no slow dance category.” My memory is cloudy. “Forget it. Slow songs are the hardest to sing anyway.”
“I’ll have you know that I have a very good voice.”
“You have a great voice.”
Why does his compliment make the corner of my mouth quirk up?
“Anyway,” he continues, completely oblivious to my inner debate, “Look at them.” He throws his arm around. “They’re here to sing along as well.”
So here we are, attempting to muster the courage to go on stage after a nice Chinese dinner that we both refused to call a date. At least he let me treat him without a fight. He mentioned that he was still discovering his new neighborhood and welcomed my spur-of-the moment decision. A controlled one, since Greer is tracking my location on an app. I’d already warned her that I would probably be staying at my Brooklyn hotel tonight.
