"Immensely."
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, and Sebastian thought that maybe, just maybe,they were both learning to hope again.
The second kiss happened three days later.
They were in the library, arguing about the arrangement of books on a shelf. It was, objectively, the most trivial disagreement they had ever had. Harriet insisted that books should be organised by subject; Sebastian maintained that alphabetical order was more logical.
"Alphabetical order makes no sense," Harriet said, her voice rising. "Why would you place a treatise on agriculture next to a novel about adultery simply because they both begin with A?"
"Because then you know where to find them. Subject categories are arbitrary and subjective."
"They're not arbitrary, they'reintuitive. Anyone with half a brain would look for a book on gardening in the gardening section, not between Aristotle and Austen."
"Anyone with half a brain would learn the alphabet."
"You're impossible."
"And you're stubborn."
"I'mright."
"You're opinionated, which is not the same thing."
They were standing too close. Sebastian wasn't sure when that had happened. One moment they had been at opposite ends of the shelf; the next, they were inches apart, voices raised, cheeks flushed.
Harriet's eyes were blazing with irritation. Her chest was heaving with indignation. She looked, Sebastian thought distantly, absolutely magnificent.
"You are the most infuriating man I have ever met," she said.
"So you keep telling me."
"I cannot believe I…"
She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she grabbed his lapels and kissed him.
Sebastian's brain stopped working.
He had imagined this. In his weaker moments, during the long years of hopeless wanting, he had allowed himself to imagine Harriet kissing him, initiating, wanting, and choosing him. But imagination was a pale shadow compared to reality. Her lips were fierce against his, her fingers twisted in his coat, her body pressed against him as though she couldn't get close enough.
He responded instinctively, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. She tasted like the tea she had drunk at breakfast. She felt like everything he had ever wanted.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
Harriet pulled back, her eyes wide, her expression horrified. "That was…I didn't mean to…"
"Please," Sebastian managed, his voice rough, "by all means, continue not meaning to."
She stared at him for a fraction of a second. Then she turned and fled the library.
Sebastian stood alone among the improperly organised books, his heart pounding, his lips still tingling, utterly incapable of movement.
She kissed me, he thought.She grabbed me and kissed me because she wanted to. Because she couldn't help herself.
He pressed his hand against his mouth, as though he could hold the memory of her there.
I am going to die. I am going to die, and it will be worth it.
***
