If tradition had been his loose excuse for daring to kiss her, it wasn’t much use for long, because it did not much resemble a New Year’s affectation. And if he had hoped to ruin this, to recklessly tear apart their friendship, it did not go the way he expected.
Her hands had come up to clasp him by the arms, and Kris was almost tensed and ready for her rebuff. Any moment now, Poppy would push him back, and that was the only taste of her he would get, anger turned to passion to greed and about to be foiled, any – moment –
It didn’t come. The kiss didn’t end there. Kristoffer had entered a strange delirium, where she was pulling him closer and kissing him back, and he couldn’t reason it away; all he could do was exist in it, in this elaborate delusion. Everyone had seemed strange and annoying and deluded tonight, but Kristoffer could have sworn he’d had a clear head – and Poppy had seemed perfectly herself, too. They had both felt quite sane.
As they broke apart, he felt wild. Insane. Deranged. He looked at Poppy, who looked just as wild as he felt. She said nothing, and Kristoffer couldn’t manage anything either, his mouth too stung with what he – they – had just done to excuse it. The clock had struck twelve. He waited, still gazing at her, for the other shoe to drop.
But she just grinned and leant forwards again, and the air had been knocked out of his chest and he felt a surge of want again and he made a sound against her mouth, a little moan of disbelief. She was still holding onto him, but he wanted to be closer, so he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her better up against him. “No slap this time?” he breathed, recovering himself for a brief moment; but he couldn’t quite manage the same mischievous glint in his eyes as she had. This was all a joke to her, maybe, a gleeful little fun, but there was a seriousness stirred up in him, an urgency he rarely felt about anything. She didn’t know, and he couldn’t tell her – but he could keep kissing her, he supposed, and hope it drowned the feeling out.
Her hands had come up to clasp him by the arms, and Kris was almost tensed and ready for her rebuff. Any moment now, Poppy would push him back, and that was the only taste of her he would get, anger turned to passion to greed and about to be foiled, any – moment –
It didn’t come. The kiss didn’t end there. Kristoffer had entered a strange delirium, where she was pulling him closer and kissing him back, and he couldn’t reason it away; all he could do was exist in it, in this elaborate delusion. Everyone had seemed strange and annoying and deluded tonight, but Kristoffer could have sworn he’d had a clear head – and Poppy had seemed perfectly herself, too. They had both felt quite sane.
As they broke apart, he felt wild. Insane. Deranged. He looked at Poppy, who looked just as wild as he felt. She said nothing, and Kristoffer couldn’t manage anything either, his mouth too stung with what he – they – had just done to excuse it. The clock had struck twelve. He waited, still gazing at her, for the other shoe to drop.
But she just grinned and leant forwards again, and the air had been knocked out of his chest and he felt a surge of want again and he made a sound against her mouth, a little moan of disbelief. She was still holding onto him, but he wanted to be closer, so he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her better up against him. “No slap this time?” he breathed, recovering himself for a brief moment; but he couldn’t quite manage the same mischievous glint in his eyes as she had. This was all a joke to her, maybe, a gleeful little fun, but there was a seriousness stirred up in him, an urgency he rarely felt about anything. She didn’t know, and he couldn’t tell her – but he could keep kissing her, he supposed, and hope it drowned the feeling out.
