Stop thinking of bubbles!
Kirsty, or was it Saffron, deepened the kiss, Saffron threading her hand into Kirsty’s hair, as if needing to hold onto her to know this was real. They were kissing. Not acting, but actually experiencing.
And, it was hot.
Scorching even.
Saffron didn’t want it to end, but where would it lead?
Get out of your head, idiot!
Kirsty’s tongue dove in deeper, causing Saffron’s knees to buckle, but Kirsty held on tightly, pulling Saffron further into the moment. Kirsty’s nipples pressed against Saffron, eliciting a surge of warmth down below.
They reached the frantic stage, making it difficult to tell whose limbs became entangled with whose. Saffron’s fingers trailed down the side of Kirsty’s neck, along the collarbone, and cupped a breast, neither daring to rip their mouths apart.
A gust of wind blasted the house, the garden chairs scraping over the paving stones. Saffron jumped at what sounded like broken glass. “What was that?”
Kirsty cupped Saffron’s cheek. “Just the wind.” She studied Saffron’s eyes. “You okay?”
Saffron nodded, kissing the heel of Kirsty’s hand.
Kirsty smiled, panting. “Now, I’m really in need of water.”
“Right.” Saffron gave Kirsty a peck on the cheek. “This all started because of water. I wanted to be close to the water, so I chose this place. And, tonight, water brought us together.”
“Water is amazing that way.” Kirsty nudged Saffron to the side and opened the fridge.
Saffron pulled two glasses from the cupboard, placing them on the counter.
Kirsty twisted the cap off the bottle, the fizzy sound echoing off the walls, neither of them speaking, only watching the other with searing expressions.
No lights were on in the kitchen since they both seemed to silently desire the darkness to protect them from their fears. As they raised their glasses in a silent toast, Saffron’s phone on the counter-top lit up with a message:I miss my boo. Our bed is so empty without you.
Saffron clicked the button to darken the screen, but it was too late.
“It’s getting late. I should go.” Kirsty set her glass down, never taking a sip.
“No, don’t. I can explain.”Could I?And, why hadn’t Saffron disabled notifications from appearing on her home screen when she left the house earlier like she normally did? Because she didn’t want to miss one of Kirsty’s flirty texts. Not that she could say that now and make it seem believable.
“That’s not necessary. Really. The message makes it clear you aren’t available.”
“It’s just something she says. Echo gets lonely at night. It means nothing.” If Saffron thought she could get away with it, she’d dance like a court jester with exaggerated hand motions as if saying,nothing to see here, folks.
“You know me. I like words as a form of communication. And those words do mean something.” Kirsty’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t understand. You told me your relationship was all for show.” Kirsty pressed her palm to her forehead. “That”—she pointed to the phone—“doesn’t look like it’s for show.”
“It’s complicated.” How could Saffron admit the truth? She wasn’t willing on most days to be frank with herself yet. How she’d been conned by Echo into thinking Saffron mattered? When in reality, Echo wasn’t capable of love. Image and publicity took precedence.
“I’m not in a place in my life where I want complications.” Kirsty stared into Saffron’s eyes. “It’s just...” She shook her head, her eyes turning glassy. “Good night, Saffron.”
Saffron stood frozen in the kitchen, unable to banish the thought that although Kirsty had said good night, what she really meant was goodbye.
Chapter 15
Kirsty was back up the ladder again, trying to fix the festival bunting. It wasn’t sitting right. It had been annoying her far more than it should for the past half hour. She was well aware of that. But the more aggravation she could eliminate from her day, the better.
She’d already lived through Sunday dinner yesterday with her parents going on about how wonderful Saffron was, how totally unstarry she was. Kirsty had said nothing, shut down, helped Dad with his crossword and eaten Mum’s roast. They may well have been wondering what happened to their sunny, happier daughter who was at the festival the day before. The one who ate the oyster to impress a girl. However, they didn’t prod Kirsty further. Perhaps they could tell the wrong question might lead to her biting their heads off.
“Can you go easy on the bunting, Kirst? It didn’t do anything to you.” Helena walked into the shop, carrying a white box from the bakery.
