Chapter Twelve

Oh Christine.

How can you bring yourself to do this?

Everything was at a complete stand still for a precious moment, and in that moment, all was right in the world, in our world.

I love you, Christine, so much that it is unfathomable.

But do you love me? I still do not know.

My hand travels down to the small of your back, instinctively drawing you closer to me, deepening the kiss; you sigh softly into my mouth, wrapping one arm around my neck.

I pull apart, gazing into your eyes, only to find you leaning in once more, and kissing me again. "Erik," you murmur against my lips. "Erik, Erik, Erik. . ."

How could something ever feel so correct? How had I ever gone this long without your kiss? I had once thought there could be nothing on earth better than kissing you on the forehead, or you kissing me on the forehead.

I see now that I was terribly, terribly mistaken.

Are you feeling the same sensation, Christine? The same heavenly feeling?

I am shocked as I feel your tongue exiting your mouth to gently caress my lips.

Did you learn this from the boy, I wonder.

I could ask you, but why spoil a perfectly good evening?

At long last, we separate our lips, though I keep my forehead against yours. You smile softly, a smile which melts my heart.

But the smile soon fades as I begin to part from you, disentangling myself from your embrace.

"Where are you going?" you ask confusedly.

"I am going to bed. . . I daresay you got what you desired."

"Erik. . ." you say, hurt in your tone, "I wanted you to stay with me. . ."

Your words make my heart ache, and I scold myself for my cruel reaction as I lie down beside you once more.

"Goodnight, then."

I watch in surprise as you part my arms and scoot up close against me, resting your head against my chest. Automatically, my arms wrap around you. This produces quite a pleasant feeling, indeed.

"If I must teach you how to love, Erik," you whisper, "then so be it."

"What do you know of love?" I retort quietly.

"I do know," you reply defiantly, then soften, "I truly do. . ."

You must be thinking of the boy.

"Yes. . . of course. . . Goodnight, Christine."

"Goodnight, darling."

And you drift off to sleep, leaving me to brood upon your parting words.