Page 83 of You’re So Vein

“Not even close,” he says, reaching out a hand towards my phone.

Oh, no, you don’t.

I lunge for my phone, and he lunges for me. We collide, his lips meeting mine in a searing kiss.

I’m kissing Augustin Durant.

Again.

This is an accident, right? Our heads got mashed together in the narrow space beneath the table.

But neither of us pulls away.

And then his lips part, and he presses his tongue against mine.

I open myself to him, and we are kissing for real.

The kiss isn’t gentle so much as inevitable – a heady collision of years of insults and arguments, of all the things we both pretended not to want. He’s soft at first – his tongue gentle, his finger tracing a line across my cheek – then reckless, like a man finally breaking his own rules.

His hand grips the edge of my neck, tilting my head back as he devours. The tip of my tongue grazes one of his fangs, and the shudder that ripples through his body is pure want.

This morning’s kiss we could call an accident. We could blame it on the late hour and the chai and Augustin’s secret. I could argue that I broke off that kiss; I pulled away.

But as much as my mind screams that this is a terrible idea, this time I can’t bring myself to stop.

My mind whirls with a million questions, but I don’t want to ask any of them because then the best kiss of my life will be over, and I’ll have to go back to hating Augustin Durant, and how can I hate someone who makes me feel like this?

I’m dimly aware of the crowd yelling, of Beth and Maisie attempting to answer questions, of the clackity-clack-clack of furious knitting needles. But it’s all faded away, drowned out by my heart hammering in my ears and Augustin’s possessive kiss.

And then he tears his lips from mine, straightens his collar, and disappears back above the table.

Peeking through a rotting hole in the floorboards where he knelt only moments before is a small patch of red flowers. The Gorilla Gardener has struck again. But not even that surprise can rouse me from my Augustin-induced stupor.

Get up, get up.

But I can’t. I’m frozen in place by the memory of soft, cool lips while Augustin’s booming voice trashes my idea and bemoans the app’s expense. I sink back on my heels, confronted for the first time with a very real possibility.

That I’m falling for my rival.

32Augustin

WHY DID I DO THAT?

Why did I do that?

She tastes like plums.

I want to do it again.

33Komal

Mamma: I had to take Papa home; he was feeling a bit faint. You did a wonderful job, although you didn’t mention the real estate agent’s day! You’d better not forget. I’ve already commissioned Dolly to make me an official sash.

“THAT COULD HAVE GONE BETTER.” Beth sags against the wall of the village hall as Celeste hands out slices of slightly battered cake.

“I think we did great,” I say brightly, rubbing my lips, certain they can see evidence of Augustin’s kiss.

“Generally, to be considered a debate winner, the debater must be present, not hiding under the table.”