"Naoms?" I hear a small hum of acknowledgement come from down by my feet. I smile silently to myself and take another sip from the flask, not quite ready to shatter the warm bubble of calm that we've been enveloped in. Naomi and I have been lying on her floor, head-to-toe, wordlessly passing the whiskey back and forth for the past hour or so, occasionally breaking the comfortable silence with bursts of random giggles. But something has been scratching at the back of my mind, almost since we'd settled down on the floor. If I'm being honest, I've wondered for years now, but have never had the courage to ask. Maybe it's the whiskey that has finally steeled me, or maybe it's today's magnificence of just enjoying one another's quiet company that has reestablished my confidence in our friendship, but I finally bring myself to speak. "Do you remember years ago, when you first approached me by the fence?" I can hear the curiosity in Naomi's sound of approval. "Well, you had asked if there were still strawberries out there. Had you been over the fence before?" I ask with a bit of trepidation. I hear Naomi stir, and I fear at first that I might've pushed the limits too far, but before I get the chance to apologize Naomi's hand is shoved in my face. I look up at her quizzically and see she's now sitting up, with her hand outstretched to me.
"Drink," she demands, and I hand her the flask. She takes a greedy gulp, cringing as it goes down. I mimic her upright position and wait patiently as I watch Naomi put words together in her head. "Before the collapse," Naomi and I both stiffen visibly with her words. Four years ago, there was a collapse in the coalmines. An entire crew was caved in, slowly suffocating to death. 30 sons and fathers died that day, mine and Naomi's dads among them. Naomi takes another swig and continues. "Before the collapse, my dad used to take me over the fence. We would hike around, bird watch, pick berries, play. It was kind of our place, you know? He would take me out there and promise me that there were things better than life in the district. One day we walked for hours, and stumbled upon this little wooden cabin. It was a piece of shit place, really; overgrown with vines and collapsing. But he loved it, kept on going on about how 'nature has a way of rectifying itself'." Naomi looks so weak and broken, I can't help but reach my hand out and lay mine on top of hers. She flips her hand over and entwines our fingers, a sad smile playing on her lips. She takes a deep breath and continues.
"And then he died, and I couldn't bring myself to go back. And then I saw you go under that fence one day, and I sort of hated you for it. Hated you for infiltrating our place, but mostly I hated that you had the strength to do what I knew I'd never be able to. But then I saw you dragging back bags full of food every day, and I realize that my dad would've liked that. He would've liked that you were feeding his people. And then I realized that I liked it too. How selfless you were, how kind. And then I started to admire you for being strong enough to go out there, even though I couldn't. I became kind of obsessed with you then, watched every day as you went under that fence empty-handed and came back with more game than any girl your size should be able to carry. One day I just decided on a whim that I had to talk to you. And so I asked for the strawberries," Naomi chuckles lightly to herself at this. "You know, I never was partial to strawberries. My dad loved them, I could've taken them or left them, but it was the first thing that came to mind."
Naomi throws back the flask with her hand that isn't being occupied by my own. She scrunches her face and wags her head back and forth like a dog. "God, that never gets any better, does it?" We both giggle at this, a slightly uncomfortable silence falling over us as we quiet. I find myself blushing slightly at Naomi's words, with her apparent obsession with me. "I love them now, though," Naomi says dreamily. I look up quizzically at her to find her looking up at the ceiling. I can't help but notice the elegant curve of her stretched neck. She glances down at me with a small smile before looking back up and clarifying. "The strawberries. I've grown to love them," she murmurs as she turns to look at me. She's looking at me through heavy lids, and her lips are turned up into the hint of a smile. My breath catches in my throat, and I'm not sure why. I don't even realize that Naomi's inching closer until our lips are touching. I'm shocked still, my lips don't move with or against hers. It's a chaste kiss, her lips were only on mine for a second before she pulls away. "Sorry. I'm a bit drunk," Naomi stammers as she tries to hide her blush. I squeeze her hand to let her know it's okay, and then I'm not sure by who's doing, but our lips are mashed together again, this time much more firmly. And I find myself kissing back. Or maybe Naomi's the one kissing back, I don't know. My mind is whirring with fleeting questions and insecurities, but the feeling of Naomi's soft lips on mine suffocates them all. Naomi's hand moves up to cradle the back of my neck, her other hand still holding mine, and I can't believe I never realized how badly I wanted this kiss until now. We keep our mouths locked until my lungs feel like they're going to burst, and then I slowly pull back for air and lean our foreheads together. It takes me a second to notice that Naomi's shaking.
"Hey, you okay?" I ask quietly, not willing to shatter the cold, quiet air surrounding us. Naomi nods her head against mine.
"Yeah, fine," she murmurs, and I'm not convinced. I'm about to prod her when she goes to speak again. "M-maybe you should go now," she almost whispers as she drops her hand from my neck. I didn't even register that I had been moving until I'm leaned up against a tree about half way to my house.