Mina’s big eyes look up at me. In the brighter light of the corridor, I can see the honey-brown swirls of colour around her pupils that seem to grow as they stare at me.
“I mean, it may be more fun than awkward conversations with your family members,” she replies eventually.
“Agreed,” I say and then I go back to walking and dragging her behind me. Finally, we reach our destination. “Here.”
“A cloakroom?” She gazes around the small room, which is now filled with hanging coats and some bags and luggage.
“The door has a lock,” I explain.
“And how do you know that?”
“I noticed it earlier when I was here with Mum taking my coat off. I stared at it longingly for a few seconds and told myself I could hide in here if you didn’t show and I needed somewhere to escape.”
“You didn’t think I would come?” She gives me another unreadable look.
“I mean, why would you? You barely know me, let alone my mother.”
“But I said I would come. I don’t say I’ll do something and then not do it,” she explains and her words and sincere tone stokes the fire that is my urge to kiss her again. To kiss her properly.
I step inside and bring her with me. She stands in the middle of the small square room, surrounded by racks of hanging coats, while I return to the door and lock it.
“You could have brought me in here to kill me.” She laughs, possibly a little nervously, but the noise could also be a defensive scoff.
“You really think that?” I turn to look at her and realise that she really could be uneasy the way her arms are folded across her body.
“Not really,” her lips quirk, “I don’t think you could cope with the blood.”
“God, no. Ew,” I say and then I start to walk towards her. It’s only a few steps, but each one feels thick and heavy, and I half-expect her to move away, to tell me this is a stupid idea. Because maybe it is a stupid idea. We’re work colleagues. We don’t really know each other. We couldn’t be more opposite.
But I also suspect that if I don’t kiss her, really and truly and properly kiss her, I will feel bereft, like I’ve watched one of the best opportunities of my life sail past me and out of sight. I don’t like that feeling.
“You know you can tell me to stop,” I say to her when I’m close enough I can see her chest rise and fall.
“Yes, or I could just knee you in the balls,” she says in that low, slightly surly voice I am now used to hearing. It makes me smile.
“I’d prefer a verbal warning, if that’s okay,” I say gently as one of my hands lands on the top of her shoulder. “Is this okay?”
Mina looks at my hand placement and then back up into my eyes. “Yes, but I really hope you can do better than that.” Her lips are smiling at me as she steps forward and slams her mouth against mine.
Chapter Nine
Superlove
Mina
For the first few minutes we kiss, I am constantly reminding myself that I am kissing Charlie Atkinson. My colleague Charlie Atkinson. My annoying colleague Charlie Atkinson who everyone thinks is gay. My annoying colleague Charlie Atkinson who everyone thinks is gay and up until an hour ago, I thought he didn’t have a worry in the world and that he literally farted sunshine and rainbows. But I was wrong. Charlie has issues, just like the rest of us.
And this is not the most shocking revelation of all. What’s more shocking is that I am kissing Charlie Atkinson and I am enjoying it. Really enjoying it.
He listened to my warning about doing better and heeded it immediately by moving his hand up to hold my neck. It’s hardly the throat grab I like to yield on my lovers, but there’s enough pressure and a lot of warmth. It pins me perfectly in place as his tongue slides through my lips and finds my own. His nose brushing against mine, the tip of it nudging my nose ring.
I am kissing Charlie Atkinson and he knows what to do with his tongue. First, he twists it around mine, then he starts to flick it against my upper teeth, as if exploring each one. Then his tongue disappears and his lips seem to grow as they suck on mine, one at a time and I can feel my lips swelling and plumping under the pressure, a million tingling feelings growing with them. But even this doesn’t last, because a few seconds later, it’s as if he suddenly misses the taste of my tongue and his returns, doing battle with mine again and again and again until I’m completely confused about where his tongue ends and where mine begins. And that confusion is just simply dumped on the huge mountain of bewilderment that are my thoughts right now because I am kissing Charlie Atkinson and I amlovingit.
So much so that I moan. It’s a soft and low sound, a hum of noise that I instantly regret. I regret it so much that I pull away and bite my lips into my mouth as if punishing them for letting it loose.
“No.” Charlie dips his chin towards me, chasing my mouth. “I wasn’t finished yet.”
But he doesn’t have much of a struggle to find me again as I practically melt back into his body, this time letting my weight lean on him a little more. As if satisfied with this, or maybe as if he was waiting on it, his arms move from their loose or perhaps disciplined resting place on my hips and slide round to encompass my waist. I don’t miss how his fingertips dig into my flesh once, twice and then they stop, relax, as if he’s changed his mind or was yet again holding something back.
