The tension is unbearable. I feel the air sizzling. The room has gone quiet. Or is it me not being able to perceive anything else than the du-dum-du-dum pulsing in my body, his all consuming eyes caressing my face as do his fingers.

He leans in, like the script asks him to, and my eyes shift down to his plump rosy lips.

In the last moment I blink like finding my way back to reality and turn my head.

His lips meet my cheek. They are soft. Softer than expected.

I look down and stare at the floor willing myself not to move and turn to catch his lips lingering on my cheek after all. I notice him pulling away, can sense his surprise and disappointment shining from his eyes. Maybe they even contain a hint of shock by the seeming rejection. I don't look at him though. Not wanting to face the shame.

I close my eyes and my heart rebels in the emptiness that is me as I feel him move away. I think it has grown two little arms and from inside is punching in outrage against my ribcage with its two teeny-tiny balled up fists. Unhappy it is with me, swearing at my behaviour.

No. This wouldn't have been right. He is Liv's boyfriend. I am not a person who does this kind of stuff. I don't hurt people. And anyway it is better this way. I realized in the last second, hearing my pulse pounding anticipating but anxious in my ears. Not to be ignored. If he kissed me it would have only led to hurt for everyone. Liv. Matty. Me. More hurt.

For me, it either would have been disappointment, because it didn't measure up to the feelings that churn within me whenever his allusive – no, elusive – ...illusive? Intense eyes meet mine. It would mean loss. Loss of an idea I quite like to keep up. Normality. And if it did. Measure up. If it was that same roller coaster. If it felt like falling from the highest building, mortal fear and indescribable taming soothing evoking a tearing happiness and bliss inside of you then...not being with him would be torture. Either way, it would be worse than now. This way, I still don't know. That's safe.

"You need to work on that," is the only part that succeeds to register in my head again. Grace's voice cuts through the outer layer of my alternate universe which I have let myself sink back into. Crouching here on that black blue ottoman with shuffled feet, having pulled my lips into my mouth, trying to deny the world and the things that transpire around me. Within me.

I catch Mini's eyes across from me. She quickly looks away and grabs her oversized purse and the play's script, pushing herself up from the green couch she has occupied. "Well, I'll better learn the rest for this part," she says with enthusiasm, with a sigh, with the slight undertone that she doesn't believe in the success of the play. The only thing rescuing it would be her being fit in her role. "I'll be fine." She is so layered. Even her voice manages to contain a million messages at once, never saying which one was true.

I watch her go and lick my unkissed lips. Would it have been like Mini's? Timid, short, but lasting just that second longer. That unending second that made you question where you were, what you were doing and if it was still real.

Little sweet tingling kiss and the harsh ignorance of if it mattered.