Kim Pine's Precious Little Knives

Chapter 10

I didn't call or text Knives back the next day. Probably made her feel bad... or maybe not. Can't always tell how she thinks.

Problem was, I needed time to recover. Any college girl can tell you that there's a huge difference between a sloppy, drunken make-out session, and actually kissing a girl you're semi-interested in. Twice. In the same day. God, did I like her... which surprised me a lot more than it should have, given how cavity-inducingly sweet she is. Guess I was just used to hating everybody and everything, so anything that messed with that status quo was going to be regarded with heavy skepticism until I felt like I could trust it.

But she seemed to understand, because I didn't get a bunch of sappy texts or selfies of her making kissy-faces or whatever. She only texted once that night, and once the next day just to say "So I have this cute redhead's number ; )". Which made me roll my eyes, but I'm pretty sure a customer heard me giggle.

He must be destroyed. No one can know.

The day after that, I texted her a single word: "Bored." Less than a minute later, she was racing into the video store, blue paisley scarf around her neck soaked in sweat and a light smoke coming from the soles of her running shoes.

"What took you so long?"

"Sorry!" she panted, hands on her knees. "I... stopped to breathe!"

"Dude. Kidding." Something weird came over me; I got up from my chair and gestured for her to sit and recover from obviously sprinting all the way here. Was I putting someone else's needs before my own? What the hell?

When I came back from getting a glass of water from the back, she looked way more calm and relaxed, though she still accepted the glass gratefully and chugged it. "PWAH!" she gasped when it was empty. "Thanks!"

"Sure."

Setting it down, she turned to smile up at me. "Watch a movie? You pick again."

"We could make out," I suggested in a deadpan voice.

"I'm all sweaty and gross. You probably don't w-"

My lips cut hers off. Seriously, I don't know what I was turning into; maybe it had just been so long since I let anybody in that all that pent-up "relationship energy" was bursting to get out and do something for once. Maybe she was just a great kisser. All roads led to Snogtown, anyway.

When I pulled back, I wrinkled my nose. "Yeah, you are pretty sweaty. But you don't stink or whatever; just have that... you know. The salty smell."

"The wha...?" She was clearly still a little dazed from the kiss.

"That salty skin-smell of someone who just started working out. Not like, old gross sweat, but fresh, clean..." I fell silent. How did she keep getting me to talk more than I normally would? The whole reason I didn't say much was because I didn't want to sound stupid, which I felt like I was a lot more lately. Being stoic was a defense mechanism, I don't need a shrink to tell me that.

Not that Knives cared. Lucky for me, she never cared when I sounded dumb. "Oh," she said with a slight nod. "Yeah, I know what you mean, kinda. Never really thought about it before."

"Right. Anyway... I dunno what to watch. We have a French film that sounded kinda interesting."

"I don't speak French very well," she snorted.

"Mine's pretty rusty, too. But there's subtitles."

"Cool."

So I put it on. And this time, the experience of watching a movie with Knives was totally different. I mean, not that much different from before, because the oddly comfortable silence was still there. Her comments were about the same as they would have been before. There was just... I dunno. Holding hands and kissing, snuggling slightly — once her sweat evaporated a little, of course.