Page 49 of Snow Balled

There’d never been one on any movie I’d ever been involved with though.

“So that’s why you don’t like kissing?” Tristan asked. “Can’t say I blame you.”

“That and… it always seems like a lie to me.”

“A lie?” He’d angled his body toward me, and it was like his own news was forgotten. All of his attention was on me.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I know how to kiss. I know what to do with my mouth. How to use my body to show how much I’m enjoying it. How to pull away afterwards, rub my swollen lips, and smile into the eyes of the actor across from me. But it’s all fake.”

“It’s acting,” Tristan said. “Isn’t it supposed to be?”

“Not the acting, the kiss itself. One mouth on another mouth doesn’t make people melt. It doesn’t change their relationship. It doesn’t make the earth move and the angels weep. It's not like that at all.”

Tristan was silent, but I knew he was thinking about what I’d said. “It’s different when it’s not for a scene.”

“Maybe a little,” I conceded. I didn’t have much experience with men, but I’d been on some dates. I’d had a few kisses that didn’t involve a director yelling, “Action!” But it hadn’t done much for me, and now I wouldn’t do it at all except when I had to for my job. “I think people have just been sold a fantasy. They see these epic kisses in the movies, and they don’t realize what goes into making them. The lighting. The music. The direction. The two people cast for their chemistry together. They see a movie kiss and think that the real-life version must be like that.”

“I’m sorry you haven’t been kissed the way you should’ve been,” he said.

One look at Tristan’s face told me that he didn’t understand, and I wished I’d never brought it up. Better that he think I was a prude than a crazy person or an object of pity.

Still, I tried again. “It’s just a lie we’ve been taught. Like how men always have to be big and strong and never show emotion. And how women are supposed to become slaves to their feelings and hormones every time they’re around a handsome man. That’s not real life, it’s just what we’ve been taught through movies, TV, and books.”

Tristan’s expression didn’t change. “Isn’t it possible that some people do feel the magic of a kiss? When there’s a connection there. When two people care about each other and are excited about what the future may hold for them.”

“It’s just mouths pressed together. Open or closed, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like an orgasm. It’s just something people think they’re supposed to do.” The fact that I’d just said the word orgasm without blushing proved how much I wanted to explain this to him.

Tristan’s blue eyes seemed to peer right into my head, making it all the more frustrating that he didn’t understand. “Would you believe me if I say I thoroughly enjoy kissing?” he asked softly.

I hesitated, not wanting to insult him. “I believe that you think it’s pleasurable. But with guys especially… isn’t it just a step along the way to the main event?”

“Sometimes,” he acknowledged. “But with the right person, it can be incredible. Even without the soundtrack in the background. But you don’t believe me.”

“I’m sorry, I just… once you’ve seen what happens behind the curtain, the magic is gone.”

His eyes bore into me, and I couldn’t quite understand why he was still here, discussing this. It seemed to me that he either should’ve started to see my point of view by now or else he should’ve dismissed me and walked away. But instead, he said, “What if someone could bring the magic back for you?”

“Like who, an actor old enough to be my father?”

“I was thinking of someone closer to your own age. Someone who likes you and cares about you.”

My jaw dropped, but I recovered quickly, realizing I should’ve seen this coming. “Even if you think I’m misguided, it’s not your job to prove me wrong.”

“Fair enough,” he said easily. “But what if I want to kiss you?”

Skepticism filled me. “So, you just happen to want to kiss me right after we had this conversation?”

“If you recall, the conversation started because I tried to kiss you—I think that’s pretty strong proof that I want to.”

“That’s because we were caught up in the moment, both of us happy about our good news.”

“Exactly,” Tristan said, though I didn’t see how that confirmed his point. “I was excited about my news and thrilled about yours, and I wanted to kiss you. Or do you really think my thought process was: hey, we’ve both had good news, so I’m going to initiate the sequence that may eventually lead to orgasm?”

In spite of myself, I laughed. “Okay, no, I didn’t think that.”

“Then why is it so hard to believe I wanted to kiss you?”

“Because you’ve been indoctrinated. Everyone has. In real life, how many times do people spontaneously kiss?”

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