There’s a loud bonging from someone banging some kind of drum, and lots of cheering as we hit midnight. Dominic kisses me on the lips, and I kiss him right back. It isn’t a brush of the lips, and it isn’t a madly passionate kiss. It’s kind ofmorethan both those types of kiss. It’s a kiss between two people whoknoweach other, and properly like each other. It’s… it’s the kind of kiss that acouplemight share. It’s the kind of kiss you sink into with someone you’re excited by but also very comfortable with.
Dominic reaches one arm around my waist and the other around my shoulders and holds me against him, and I lift my arms and wind them round his neck, and then we stay like that, on that beautiful beach, swaying together to the music, surrounded by a swirling melee of people, jostled a little, pushed a little, holding each other tight as though we’re each other’s rock in a choppy sea.
We don’t do anythingexceptkiss. There’s no wandering of hands, no will-he-won’t-he, how-far-will-he-reach-how-far-will-I-reach, no nothing, we just continue the most deliciously long, deep kiss. It’s soft, it’s gentle, it’s also demanding, exploratory… It feels as though it’s… everything.
Which means that I’m bereft when we get jostled so hard by some other revellers that we have to break apart. And also breathless. And… not sure what’s happening.
I should not just have had what felt like the mosteverythingkiss of my life with Dominic Rock when Jed texted me earlier to say he wants to get back together.
I don’t know what to do.
And then Dominic smiles down at me, his face looking uncharacteristically tender, and I smile back at him, because I can’t help it. And then I decide that I’d becrazyto start with the overthinking at this point, rather than just enjoying tonight, and – even if from my perspective that kiss somehow meant more than the actual sex we had earlier – with regard to Jed it won’t make any difference at all, and Iamentirely single right now, and I just want to enjoy myself.
And enjoying myself tonight very obviously involves Dominic.
I feel like I should say something, but I can’t think too well right now, so I go with: ‘The sea looks amazing rippling in the moonlight. Kind of eerie.’
‘Yeah,’ Dominic agrees. ‘Nice colours.’
‘Mmm.’ It turns out that neither of us really wants to discuss the moon or the sea right now.
Dominic releases my waist and takes my hand and leads me away from the group, towards the water’s edge.
When we reach the water, we stand together – still holding hands – and watch its beautiful, shimmery sparkliness.
‘The ocean’s so vast,’ I say. ‘Like the bush. It kind of makes you feel small.’
‘Small but still important,’ Dominic says. ‘Every single person is so important. And every single animal.’
I squeeze his hand. I like that he just said that; it’s quite un-Dominic like, and very lovely. Not that Dominicisn’tlovely. But I don’t think he overthinks like I do sometimes. Maybe he does about plans, but I don’t think he does about people and emotions.
‘Are you a resolutions kind of person?’ I suddenly ask, pretty sure that the answer will be no. I think he makes a sensible plan, and then gets on and does it, and will have no need for the first of January to kick-start him, because he’s permanently kick-started.
‘Nope. You?’
‘I actually am.’
‘So have you made any this year?’ He sounds as though he’s smiling.
‘Of course.’ I’ve made a lot this year, some big, some small. It feels like a good time for a restart, following my marriage break-up. And right now I’m not going to consider what might or might not happen with Jed after I reply to him tomorrow, or even what I’m going to say to him.
‘Do you usually stick to your resolutions?’ He sounds genuinely interested.
‘Some I do, some I don’t. Ialwayswithout fail – although maybe not this year – have one about going running, and Ialways– although again I don’t think I will this year – go for a run on New Year’s Day, and then again on the fourth of January and the seventh and thenmaybethe tenth and then that’s it. But there are others that I keep.’
‘I’m wondering whether maybe running is just not your thing,’ he says very gravely.
I laugh. ‘Yeah, I think you could say that. Massive discipline isn’ttotallymy thing, either. Unlike you. That’s why you don’t need resolutions. Your life is perfect already.’
‘Ha,’ he says, and then after a pause: ‘You do know my life is not perfect?’
‘I mean… you’re an early riser, you go for an effortless run every morning, you… I mean, everything. You’re just so disciplined. Tidy. Very sensible.’
‘I mean… yes to all of that, I suppose. But does any of that make someone happy?’
I look up at him. ‘Yes? I hope?’ Crap. I hope heishappy.
‘You know,’ he says musingly, ‘I feel like I’ve learnt a thing or two from you after the past few days.’
