The Queer Rebels

Chapter 13: Burning

I inhale Marcy's scent, her warmth drawing me in. Then, as my lungs grow full, I close my eyes and lean forward.

Our lips lightly brush, as soft as the fog that rolled in over sandy dunes on the night we first almost confessed our feelings for each other.

Her mouth is soft. Gentle. Tentative and unsure.

And then she pulls away.

The kiss lingers in the air, a tangible presence in the small room. I look up, my eyes searching Marcy's for any sign of regret. But all I find is a reflection of my own nervous excitement.

"Wow," Marcy finally whispers, her voice a mix of wonder and uncertainty. "Charlie, I—"

"I know," I interrupt, not wanting to let the moment slip into awkwardness. I lean forward and let my lips communicate my feelings without words.

As the heat of our breath flows between us, Marcy's hands clasp the side of my face and she pulls me closer. Her lips part, and a new world opens up.

As our kiss deepens, I taste her longing, and my need, and the years of desire that has built up over years.

A jolt of heat explodes inside of me and I want to grab her, melt into her, close any distance between us. But I restrain myself, inhaling through my nose to temper the roaring flames.

My fingers travel up the length of her arm, skim across her neck, and get lost in her soft hair.

The moment stretches into forever and ends much too quickly.

Marcy's eyelids flutter open as she breaks away. Her pupils are black pools ringed with flecks of bronze and gold.

"Was that okay?" she asks, her voice deep and breathy.

"Okay?" I ask in disbelief. Doesn't she know how long I've been in love with her? "Shit, Marcy, that was more than okay. That was amazing."

My hand still cups the back of her head, and I brush my thumb against the soft dip where her jaw meets her neck. I want to jump into her depths. Get lost exploring her embers.

"This changes things, doesn't it?" she asks.

"No," I say. "It doesn't. I've always felt this way."

A tint of rose hues her cheeks, and she looks down. "You're my best friend. I don't want to lose that."

As my eyes dance over her face, lingering on her swelled lips and the flush spreading down her neck, I can't imagine ever losing her. But I also know what she means.

Fire burns. It consumes and it can destroy.

Should we extinguish the flames to safeguard our friendship?

I take my hand away, placing it in my lap. It's already cold, missing her heat.

"Marcy," I say, her name a prayer on my tongue. "You'll always be my best friend. I'd do anything for you."

After a beat, her eyes finally meet mine. "Promise?"

Before I can answer, the image of Jenelle walking down the hall intrudes my thoughts. Would I be able to forgive Marcy if she wanted to revert to just being friends? Would that be a consolation prize I could accept?

I don't want to lie to her. But in this moment, all I know is that I can't lose her. I can't lose this hope she has rekindled in me. The spark she formed when she stirred up my coals.

"Of course. I promise," I say with a deep exhale that only fans the flames of my desire.

Her eyes search mine for confirmation. "What if we mess this up?"