Passions Prologue
By Dana Keylits
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Harbinger
A/N: For KB, who reminded me yesterday why I write. And, who gave me the kick in the pants I needed to keep moving forward. Thank you, my friend. :-)
I wanted to tell my mom about you. She called today, just to check in, or check up, I wasn't sure which. I almost told her about you. She could tell something was different, something was up, could hear it in my voice.
But, I didn't tell her. I didn't know what to say, and it had nothing to do with the fact that you're a woman. It's just…I wasn't sure where I stood with you yet. I couldn't tell. Sometimes I think you're as into me as I am into you, other times I feel you moving away from me, feel you pushing me away.
What's going on, Bette? What is this? What are we? Do we have a future together? Or, is this just a brief affair, a whimsical fling?
I hope it's not the last. I like you, I think I'm falling in love with you, and we could be great together, we could be awesome together! You've opened my eyes to pleasures I've never even imagined. You've helped me see beyond my own limitations, past my own insecurities, and, I don't want to lose that.
I don't want to lose you.
She drove us to Napa Valley for the day, it was cool but not cold, a beautiful cloudless day, we stopped at winery after winery, tasting reds and whites, snapping pictures of the beautiful rolling scenery, stealing kisses when we thought no one was watching, driving along single lane roads, kicking up dust, passing luscious green vineyards, her hand on my knee, my fingers tangled in hers.
Life felt good. Carefree, happy, I was content, closing my eyes for the drive back as the sun settled over the horizon.
I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes we weren't at her place, or outside of my dorm. We were parked on a hill overlooking the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge lit up in all of its glory in front of us. She reached over and traced my jawline with the tip of her finger, and the look in her eyes made my heart melt.
I blinked, then smiled. "Hi," I whispered.
She just looked at me, her gaze dropping to my lips, her fingertips tickling the sensitive skin below my chin. Her eyes were dark pools against the full moon, and they glistened in its reflection. Was she crying? I couldn't tell.
"You okay?" I asked, capturing her hand with my own. I kissed her fingertips.
She nodded, her lips curling gently.
"You sure?" I prodded again, gazing at her through narrowed eyes.
She licked her lips, blinking, a tear spilling over the rim of her eye.
I moved closer to her. "Bette."
She shook her head slightly, her lips trembling into a meager smile.
"Bette," I whispered, my hand on her cheek, my face inches from hers, searching her obsidian eyes. "What is it?"
She smiled, looked down and shook her head again. I pressed my lips against her forehead, feeling a lump rise in my own throat. "Tell me," I whispered. "Please."
She looked up suddenly, her eyes blazing, her gaze intense, her lip trembling. "Kate," she finally croaked, a hitch in her whisper.
"What?" I asked, wiping her cheek with the pad of my thumb. "Bette, what…?"
Before I could finish, she'd covered my mouth with her own, her kiss urgent and probing, almost desperate, and I could taste her salty tears as my tongue skimmed her lip. I sipped them up, hoping to rinse away whatever sadness had seized her.
I kissed her like it was our last time, deliberate and thoughtful, almost meditative, her taste, her scent, sending my thoughts spinning into the ether, replaced by the raw, primal ache that always overtook me when she kissed me like this.
And then the thought skittered past my brain like an infestation and I pulled away, holding her face with both hands, searching her eyes, looking for the awful truth.
"God, Bette. Are you…breaking up with me?"