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THEY didn't talk about the kiss again.
Coraline was anxious. She didn't have the heart to ask him if he had kissed anyone before. She assumed he had. He was eighteen years old; most would've had theirs by then. If not with a person they knew, then with their pillow, at least. Despite being homeschooled, he was ... handsome, with golden hair and soft skin. Someone had to be lining up to kiss him before Coraline.
However, it didn't feel like that was the case. He seemed awkward, like he didn't know where to put his hands. His mouth had been frozen until a minute into the kiss. Coraline hardly noticed at the time; too consumed by the energy flowing back and forth between them. She wanted to do it again. She wanted to feel it again.
But she never asked. She never even mentioned the kiss. They went on with their lives as if it had never happened. Maybe that was a good thing.
Coraline also made the decision to never ask Michael about being the supposed "Chosen One." She didn't want to think about it, nor did she want to research it. Coraline didn't know if she believed him, and Googling it would just thrust her more into this fantasy world of his that she wanted to keep out of. Yes, she did think he was gifted – somehow. She felt the raw power running through his veins and mingling with her skin, but there was no way this boy with a shitty past was some almighty being.
She wasn't even sure if she believed in being a prophet. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't. The definitions between her and her visions matched up, but she didn't believe for one second that she was receiving divine messages from some sort of supernatural higher power.
"I don't think you're understanding it."
Coraline looked up at Michael as he tried to explain her "prophetism" for the tenth time that day. If it didn't sink in the first time, it never would. But he was adamant, and she could tell from his tone.
They walked through the small everglade just outside the borders of her house. Her father had a lot of these trees planted so they could be surrounded by nature. Coraline wondered what he'd think of them now, covered in moss and surrounded by a swamp. Taking Michael's arm, she led him past the swamp, feeling a tingle of electricity rise as their skin made contact.
"I do understand," she told him defiantly. "I just think I'm cursed. I can't be some kind of messenger from God."
Michael chuckled. "I never said your visions were from God."
Coraline furrowed her brow, turning on her heel to face him. Their shoes started to stick to the wet ground, and Michael almost tripped backward when she stopped walking. Their bodies were inches apart. It made him think about the kiss and what it would be like to feel her power again. They were both wondering the same thing, but neither wanted to mention it.
