All the way to the Other Cup, I was pretty quiet. Knives kissed me. Or I kissed Knives, or whatever. AGAIN! This was getting pretty ridiculous by now. I mean, it was one thing when we were shitfaced and making out because we weren't sober enough to know better, but what excuse did I have now? None. Yeah, I could have tried saying "I was worried about her falling and the emotions were running high," but the truth is that wouldn't happen if we didn't both think about it before the moment came. So nah, I won't hide behind that.
Until we had a table, we chatted about small things. Then Knives dove right back in.
"Soooo, can I be totally honest? Like, it's making me want to crawl under the table, but..."
"Yeah, fine. Go for it." I wanted to say "No, please stop." But maybe if we got it out of the way, we could move on a little faster and I could spend less time wanting the same thing Knives wanted: to hide.
"Okay. So, um... that was a great kiss." When I groaned and slumped lower in my seat, she went on, "Seriously! Like, I've only ever kissed you and Neil in a way that was... y'know, more than just a peck like with Scott. But for serious, it's so much better when you're sober."
"Ugh... I feel so gross that it happened when I was wasted." When her smile slipped a notch, I held up a hand. "Not because it's you! Just, that's a crappy way for a kiss to happen, even if it's the first or last kiss, or whatever. Probably a really normal thing, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah," she half-laughed, scratching her cheek. "First kiss, huh?" Then she perked up slightly, saying "Washroom, be right back!" That came out of nowhere. But when I only shrugged, she went skipping off with her purse swinging back and forth.
While she was gone, I sipped at my espresso and tried to take stock. Maybe Knives really didn't mind. Anything: that I was a girl, that I was a real asshole of one... that we both slobbered all over each other while intoxicated instead of this being our first kiss, under the monkey bars after I caught her from falling like any normal couple.
And those thoughts only made me feel more panic rising. A normal couple. Parts of my brain sure had hopped on the Pinechau bandwagon in a fucking hurry! But whenever I tried to think of real, legitimate reasons not to try going out with her — at least try it once, I failed. She was sweet, and earnest, and already seemed pretty open to the idea. Probably was holding back her interest level because she could see me hitting the roof the way I was.
What about sex? Was I ready to bang a chick?! Maybe not. But then again, Knives never spent any time talking about anything sexual. She would if I brought it up, but otherwise she seemed more interested in other subjects, like martial arts, music, talking about old times... kissing me. Bedroom stuff could probably wait a while.
As I saw her emerge from the restroom, looking relieved and satisfied with her "mission" in there, I smiled to myself before she could catch me doing it. Knives Chau... about the same height as me, but a little shorter. Did that make me the guy? I mean, I know they say that's not really how lesbians work, but I'd never been one before. Or whatever I was turning into. I didn't know if I could handle that. Bossing her around was kind of fun because she "played along", but the minute she gave a hint she was upset, I crumpled like a cheap suit. Well, that was fine; I hated those kind of He-Man neanderthal dudes, anyway. Sure as fuck didn't want to be one.
How naturally all these thoughts came to me was a little scary. One kiss in the park, and I was already picking out china patterns. No pun intended.
"Sorry," she whispered with an apologetic smile as she sank back into her chair. "What'd I miss?"
"An existential quandary." Sighing, I sat forward again. "So."
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Kim Pine's Precious Little Knives
FanfictionMisanthrope though she may be, Kim Pine's no different from anyone else: she gets lonely. Wants companionship. Problem is, she's been burned enough that she hates everything and everyone too much to seek it out anymore. All she needs is for a former...