Mark stared blankly.
His ex-girlfriend of less than a month had just kissed him. The woman who had sworn off men because of him had just pressed her lips to his – on her own free will.
And now a sight that was hardly thought possible in Alphabet City; Maureen Johnson was at a loss for words. She stared back at the blonde, mouth slightly agape.
"I- I'm sorry," was all she managed to stutter out, before clutching her coat shut and quickly vacating the loft that she had been about to exit before the incident.
Mark remained rooted to the spot for almost a whole other two minutes before summoning movement. He gingerly pressed his fingertips to his lips, where Maureen had been against him mere moments before.
He knew that their relationship was over. He had known for a whole twenty-three days now (but really, who was counting?). Her belongings were almost all moved out of the loft, save for what couldn't be found amongst the sea of junk that was the living space of the loft. She had been lucky enough to quickly convince her latest object of desire to share an apartment with her with a reasonable rent request.
Things had been rocky for the first few days, but Mark and Maureen had managed to put aside their differences and go back to a civilized friendship – he because he still longed for her, and she because she took pity on him (she figured that if he didn't even have a regulated sex life going for him, he should at least still have friends).
Maureen had found herself back at the loft on this particular night evening to pick up a box of more of her belongings. Roger was in his bedroom with his guitar after a particularly disheartening day, and Mark didn't have the heart to leave his friend in their home alone. At a lack of other options for things to do (or rather, just a lack of appealing options), Mark found himself inspired to do some winter cleaning in the main room. Thus, the discovery of Maureen's things.
He had called her up, and although he hadn't seen her in a while, Mark wasn't surprised when she bounced enthusiastically through the door twenty minutes later, her gorgeous brown hair dusted in snow. She blubbered on an on to Mark about how great her life was, before picking up the box and putting it out in the corridor of the main building to take down the stairs. She swiftly returned to the loft to hug Mark goodbye.
And that's when it happened.
It was so unexpected, so sudden, that Mark had been startled into his first instinct – to kiss her back. And so he did.
He had longed for the taste of her again – sweet and tangy, from the strawberry Lip Smackers lip balm that she always coated her lips with, even when she donned one of her usual brightly coloured lipsticks. Testosterone seemingly overwhelmed all of Mark's other senses, as he found himself kissing her much more passionately than he would have liked to. His hands had already found their way to her waist; had felt their way down her curves, taking in what they had longed for so often these past few weeks. His fingers found the bottom hem of her shirt and fumbled with it, curling underneath, peeling back the fabric from her skin-
And then it was over.
She pulled away as quickly as she had forced herself onto him. She took mere seconds to compose herself, before standing a few feet back and gazing up into his captivating electric blue eyes.
"I- I'm sorry," and she was gone.
And now Mark stood, fingers to his lips, eyes closed, trying to relive the moment. Confusion clouded his mind, settling over all his other thoughts like a thin layer of dust. Why? Why had she done it? Had it been a mistake, a lack of judgment? A slip of mind for a regular relationship habit? Maybe it was intentional – did she still want him the way that he wanted her? Did she know he still wanted her?
After a few more moments of dumbly standing there with a blank expression, Mark realized that he was sweating. His whole body had reacted to that one feat in a way that it once would have responded to many minutes of lovemaking. Had he really expected in a moment of passion that something else was going to happen tonight? Swallowing hard, he shut the door to the loft and turned to the kitchen counter. He picked up a relatively clean-looking glass and filled it with cool water from the tap. Leaning against the counter, he took a long sip.
... Maureen... Maureen... Maureen in ice cold water...
Okay, water not helping.
A million and one thoughts were going through his brain, and his head was already starting to ache. New tactic. He shuffled his way over to Roger's closed bedroom door and knocked. Thirty seconds and no answer later, he turned the knob and let himself in.
Roger was sprawled on his bed, propped up by a pillow, with his guitar balanced between his lap and his knees. After a year of depression and days of not wanting to move for hours on end, he had come up with some interesting guitar playing positions and techniques. His room was atrocious; Mark was trying to remember whether the floor was carpet or hardwood. Carefully, Mark dared to venture a few steps closer to the bed.
"Hey,"
Roger glanced up for the first time. He frowned. "I thought you and Maureen were over three weeks ago,"
"Uhm... yes?"
"So, then, is this lipstick thing just... a phase I should ignore?"
Mark was confused for a second, and then scowled. Damn Maureen and her lipstick. Damn them to hell. He rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand.
Roger started strumming out some chords on his guitar. "So, why did she drop by?"
"To pick up some of her old shit I found," Mark was scanning the messy room for a mirror.
"And there was no lovemaking involved at all?"
"Nuh-uh,"
"Well, then please tell me that there's a rolled up screenplay in your pocket,"
Mark glanced down. Fuck. Roger was not helping the situation.
Roger looked back up to Mark, for the first time that night actually making eye contact. "So, what happened with her?"
"It was only a kiss."
oooooo
Several blocks away, Maureen stepped into her apartment. "Jo, I'm back," she called out, closing and locking the door behind her.
Joanne emerged from the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate and a kiss for her lover. "So, is everything still alright between you and Mark?" she inquired.
Maureen traded the box she was holding for the mug of hot chocolate from Joanne. "Good! I'm glad that Mark and me can just talk without it being awkward. I mean, it's great that we both know our friendship is cool now, right?"
The End
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