Lisa
It seems as though my next words are spoken by someone else. I hear them, but I don't feel them. I don't register the movement of my tongue or the vibrations in my throat that alert me as their creator.
My face is close to hers now; my words are just a whisper. "May I kiss you, Jennie?"
A demure, pleasant smile graces her lips. Without waiting for her to answer, I press my lips softly to hers, applying the tiniest bit of pressure, so that she may move back if she so desires. Fortunately, this isn't the case; she steps closer to me, eliminating the small space still between our bodies, and brings her hand to my chest. I kiss her softly once, twice, and then the third time she parts her lips, allowing my tongue to slip through.
I put my hands on her hips and pull her closer against my body, wanting more of her any way I can have her. She responds with a moan as our kiss intensifies, her fingers twisting in my hair while her other hand fists the fabric of my shirt. Slow, sweet kisses turn hungry, each of us frantic for more, more, more....
She breaks away much too soon, her breaths coming in short gasps. "My friend is getting married next weekend," she breathes, and I kiss her soundly in response, unable to get enough. She greedily reciprocates before breaking away to add, "I wanted to see if you'd go with me."
The words faintly register in my mind as I kiss her yet again, her taste and smell overpowering my ability to think properly.
"Next weekend?" I mumble against her lips, the words already forgotten and meaningless.
"Yes." I kiss her cheek, her jaw, her neck... then Jennie suddenly stops me with a hand on either side of my face. "Lisa?"
"Yes?" I breathe.
"Will you go?"
As I look at her the weight of her words come back to me, their meaning clear and rather frightening. "To your friend's wedding?" I repeat. Mostly, I'm stalling for time, unable to wrap my head around what's happening.
Her thumbs rub soft circles on my cheeks, her lips ghosting against my own. "Yes."
I get a grip on the situation, on this beautiful girl and what she's asking. Next weekend... a whole week from now. Will we still be speaking in a week? Will she know the truth by then?
I should tell her the truth now. My heart races just thinking about it. Her brown eyes are large, patient. Expectant.
Why are you such a fucking coward, Lisa Manoban?
I look at her, and my defences crumble. I don't know what to think, much less what to say. I want to kiss her, ravage her, carry her upstairs and make her scream my name again and again as she's continuously comes undone... and I want to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness, apologize for ever making the bet... the very same bet that led me to meet her. Would I even know her otherwise?
She waits patiently.
"Jennie, I..."
"Yes, Lisa?" she prompts.
"I can't."
