COTW: A Thin Line

Chapter 14- The Kiss

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My feet hit the pavement in a steady rhythm. Right, left, right, left to the beat of Linkin Park's Bleed It Out blasting through my earbuds. The hard driving drums push me further despite the vice grip on my thigh muscles, faster despite icepicks stabbing my lungs.

Neither the trail nor the music— despite the lyrics about bleeding out frustration to throw it away — is on my mind.

The Kiss.

It's now a full-blown incident that deserves Capital Letters. The Kiss.

It bobs to the surface at the most inopportune times, bringing with it the swell and arc of emotion—elation, attraction, fear, anger, confusion. I haven't let myself analyze it or make up reasons to myself as to why it happened. It can never happen again.

Rooms and airfare have been booked. Bridesmaid dresses, wedding dress, and tuxes have been fitted. Shoes have been purchased. Excursions have been planned. I've been packing for two weeks. Seven days on an island requires extra preparation. Swimsuit shopping alone took me a month.

The engagement party is in a few days; then the bachelorette/bachelor parties and the shut-in, our all night, co-ed party. And then the wedding. I am so, so close to shoving Preston out of my life forever.

And then I lost my mind and gave in to a kiss. Not only did I give in, but I kissed him back! What was I thinking? I don't know. I only know that I don't want to talk about it.

I didn't want to sit at home, and I couldn't sit at work. I couldn't go to Morgan's, because her house is Wedding Central. If I think about the wedding, I will think about Preston and Preston is the last person I want on my mind.

Running is my only obsession that exerts energy and clears my mind. I hope to tire myself out enough to not think about The Kiss.

Or about how well I remember his full, soft lips.

Or about how I loved his moans, the sound rumbling through his chest, my body absorbing waves of pleasure.

Maybe I'll exhaust myself enough to go home and go straight to sleep instead of restlessly flipping from one side to the other before reaching into the bottom drawer of my nightstand and unearthing my rabbit vibrator. Preston was halfway right—it's not a big, black, Mandingo dildo that gets me off. Lately, his face and the sounds he made while kissing me and the weight of his body against mine seeps into my fantasies. It's disturbing how fast I climax when he's on my mind.

The thrash of my music is loud and I'm in a zone, ignoring the pain, blocking out my thoughts. I catch a glimpse of a runner falling into step beside me. I grunt, push the buds further into my ears and speed up, hoping to eclipse him, but Preston matches my pace.

I yank one bud from my ear as I slow down. No way could I keep up that pace. "Go away."

"I'm out for a run. Free country."

"Over here, by my apartment?"

"Strange coincidence, huh?"

Preston's breathing is off. He works out, but he's not a runner. He's pressing hard to stay on pace with me and it's taxing his system. His forehead and neck glisten with sweat; his shirt is already sporting a ring around the collar. I almost laugh aloud.

"I'm trying to get some time to myself. You need to pace slower anyway. Like, a half mile behind me."

I replace the bud in my ear and try to speed up again. Preston pulls the bud from my ear.