"What do you mean?"
"About the kiss."
I raise my eyebrows. "I have choices?"
"Aye."
"What are they?"
Rory is still stroking my hand. I don’t think he realises he’s doing it, but I don't want him to stop.
"We can pretend it never happened,” he says. “Never talk about it again."
My stomach churns. My body aches with tension as every muscle in my body pulls tight. My expression must have changed because Rory nods ever so slightly.
"We can admit that it happened," he suggests. "But that it won't happen again because it's not what you want. You're straight."
I'm beginning to think I might not be as straight as I thought. "Are there any other options?"
"Don't you like those?" Rory's voice is quiet and fragile.
"No. Not really."
"We—" Rory bites his lip.
"We…? What could we do, Rory?"
"Could kiss again." He blurts the words out so fast I'm not sure I heard him correctly. Maybe he said something else entirely, and my brain just made me hear what I wanted to.
"Kiss again?"
He nods. "To see how you feel about it."
"Don't you mean to see howwefeel about it?"
"No. I know how I feel."
"How?"
He shakes his head. "You need to decide how you feel first. That's what matters."
I want to disagree with him, but maybe he’s right. While he looks shocked at first, it's clear he’s not freaking out like I am. He knows he’s gay. He doesn't have to re-evaluate anything except how he feels about me. But maybe he doesn't even need to do that.
I move closer, sadly dislodging his thumb from my hand. It's easier to close the gap between us to kiss him again. My heart is going crazy. My mouth is still dry, and I'm sure my lips will be too. I wonder if I know how to kiss, even though I’ve done it many times. But only with women, I remind myself. Not that that should make a difference. A kiss is a kiss.
Rory isn't doing anything. I know he's waiting for me. I have to be the one to kiss him. The question is, do I want to?
Once again, there's a disconnect between my head and my heart. My head taunts me, reminding me I'm not into guys, reminding me that the only man who's ever kissed me was—
I gasp. My chest tightens. No. I can't think about him. He ruined my past. Destroyed my childhood. Tore me away from my best friend. I won’t let him take my present from me as well.
“It’s okay,” Rory whispers. “Whatever you decide is okay.”
My heart melts for him. It knows that he’ll be here for me no matter what. I can rely on him, trust him, and maybe even love him.
I let my heart win.
I lean forward and kiss him again. This time, he kisses me back. Our mouths meld, working in tandem, like a firm but soft massage. The good tingling is back. It chases the sickly feeling from the pit of my stomach away. It flows around my body, making me feel alive and wanted in a way I've never experienced. This kiss isn't about lust. It's not about proving anything to anyone. It's just about Rory and me and the desires he's awakened inside me. I want him.
