Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
My heart began to flutter. Was he getting at what I thought he was getting at?
“Not your first kiss, though,” he said.
He was getting at that.
I. Could. Not. Believe. He. Brought. This. Up.
It was never something that Channing and I discussed. It was almost like a dream. In fact, I sometimes doubted whether he even remembered or whether it even really took place. We were in such a fog that night. But it still happened. And it was a moment I could never forget.
I finally replied, “No. You were my first kiss.”
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
CHANNING
Was I a dick for wanting her to acknowledge that I had a leg up on Rory in one thing?
I’d always suspected that I was Amber’s first kiss. But I never asked her, because we’d simply never spoken about that moment in time. I could never handle talking about Lainey’s death, and the circumstances of that kiss were somehow tied into the tragedy of my sister’s passing.
As far as first kisses went, ours was far from typical, far from sexual even. It was eclipsed by our mutual sadness and devastation. But in the midst of one of the darkest days of my life, that kiss was like a lifeline—my oxygen. It had given me a reason to breathe just when I thought my lungs were ready to give out.
“I always figured that was your first kiss,” I said. “But I never knew for sure until you just confirmed it.”
“I wasn’t sure if you remembered, Channing. I often wondered if you truly mentally blocked out that whole day.”
“Much of that entire time is a blur, to the honest. But that moment…that kiss…is not something I could ever forget.”
***
It was the evening of Lainey’s wake. I’d managed to pull myself together somehow, standing in that line and shaking hundreds of hands that were attached to blurry black figures.
As much as I knew I needed to cry, I wouldn’t allow myself to. It was hard enough to watch my mother breaking down. I didn’t want her to have to see me cry because I knew it would kill her. So, I held it in.
The preacher began to read something, and I knew I couldn’t take it. So, I slipped away, disappearing to a gazebo out in the back of the funeral home.
To my surprise, Amber was there. Her hair was covering her face. She was alone and crying and didn’t see me at first. She’d been composed all night, too, but seeing that she’d stopped fighting it gave me silent permission to do the same.
Unable to hold my tears in any longer, I let go in that moment. Moisture filled my eyes. I was too numb to even realize that I was crying were it not for the vibration of my ribs shaking in pain. Joining her on the bench, I held Amber in my arms and let those first tears fall into her hair. My crying was so intense that it was silent.
We continued holding each other for an immeasurable amount of time. At one point, she turned her face toward me, and I could taste her breath; it felt like oxygen. Suddenly, tasting more of it became all I wanted in the world. Desperate to feel anything other than my pain, I took what I needed and kissed her.
My eyes were closed, my breath shaking. It was hard and passionate and desperate, so different from any other kiss I’d ever experienced before or ever would experience again in my life. It was an expression of our pain and yet a reminder that we were alive when we’d otherwise felt dead inside. Each thrust of my tongue and each moan into her mouth numbed that pain. It was intense and beautiful and sacred. It provided a momentary peace that words couldn’t.
Interrupted by the footsteps of Amber’s father, I pried myself off of her just in the nick of time, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. My heart was pounding. My palms were sweating. Amber looked dazed as she got up and left.
And we never spoke of it again.
***
“I was very lucky to have found you there that night,” I said.
Tears began to glisten in her eyes. “I never told anyone about that kiss, not Rory, not anyone.”
“Neither did I. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you talked about.”
“Clearly, we didn’t.”
“Well, you said Rory was your first everything. I thought I would take the liberty to remind you that technically that one belonged to me.”
“It definitely did.” She smiled.
Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I said, “I think I’m gonna make some tea. You want some?”
It was late, but I was enjoying hanging out with Amber and wanted to prolong our little night cap.
My reaction to her finding those photos on my phone surprised me. It affected me, and I couldn’t figure out exactly why. I’d flaunted my body to women enough times that you’d think it wouldn’t have. But this was different. This was Amber. She already had some preconceived notions about me, and while many of them were true at one time, I’d changed quite a bit in the past couple of years.