“I know, she’s been painting all her life.”
“Does she have any commissioned artwork?”
“Not yet, she’s hoping to one day have her own gallery. That would bethe dream.”
They both stood and admired the large oil painting; the abstract movement of city lines created a gold and green versionof New York.
“It goes really well in here.”
“I asked her to paint it for me to go with the theme. She did an amazing job. So many of our friends want the same thing, but she likes to be unique, so she won’t ever paint the same thing twice.”
“That’s so cool.” Megan admired the painting for a while before she wandered over to the bookcase on the opposite side of the room. Ashley found her inquisitive state humorous.
“Let’s see what we have here then.” She flicked through the large selection of books, stopping immediately atPride and Prejudice. She held the book upin surprise.
“I said I preferredThe Great Gatsby. I never said I didn’t likePride andPrejudice.”
“I see. Well, you have gained some points backwith that.”
Megan settled next on a black, leather-bound version ofWuthering Heights. The intricate silver detailing on the front cover and the spine made for an interesting edition; one which Ashley adored.
“How old is this?”
She stood directly behind Megan now, close enough that her voice could be heard as a whisper in her ear. The intimacy was sudden andunexpected.
“It’s from the ‘60s.”
Megan froze in place. “It’s in perfectcondition.”
“My mom gave it to me. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The bookshop down the road actually has an originalfrom 1848.”
“Seriously? I would love to see that!”
“It’s more valuable than mine though,” Ashley sniggered. “I enquired once, and he said it cost him $10,000at auction.”
Megan looked over her left shoulder and directly into Ashley’s eyes, shocked. “Seriously? Wow.”
“Have you read it?”
“Once, about four years ago. My aunt has all the classics, so I tend to indulge when I come to visit.”
“What didyou think?”
“I think Catherine should have run away with Heathcliff. I expected a Romeo-and-Juliet-type love, but I actually think the story was more about Heathcliff’s revenge.”
Ashley reached her hand around Megan to grasp the book, flicking knowingly to chapter nine.
“This is my favourite quote. It’s so well known now, but I think it’s just the perfect way of saying that you love someone without actually saying it.” Ashley pointed at the two lines in question, and to her surprise, Megan read them aloud perfectly.
“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.” Megan smiled softly. “It’sbeautiful.”
The proximity between them was minuscule. The book pressed up against Ashley’s torso was now the only thing separating them. Almost evenly matched in height, their eyes searched each other’s for a sign. Ashley’s breathing quickened; the nerves causing her stomach to do somersaults. Megan reached to tuck a strand of hair behind Ashley’s ear before dropping her gaze, seemingly embarrassed by the uncharacteristic boldness.
Ashley placed the book back on the shelf and lifted Megan’s chin with the tips of her fingers; she moved a step closer, closing the gap further. Megan’s fingers brushed the length of her arm. Neither one of them was entirely sure who made the final step towards the other, but their lips parted just enough, brushing together for the first time. It was as though they didn’t intend to kiss at first. The rhythm was off—Ashley’s mouth hard and inflexible on Megan’s. Until Megan placed her arms around Ashley’s waist and their lips softened, easing into the kiss. The warmth consumed her as she leaned further in, embracing the beautiful girl before her in all her glory; she was perfection and her lips matched thatperfection.
Ashley retreated slightly, taken back by the depth in which Megan used her tongue. Ashley, reluctant to delve in, preferred a passionate kiss without the use of tongues—a topic that had not been broached throughout the day.
“Less tongue,” Ashley muttered.
