Page 22 of Lessons in Love

I know it’s a hypothetical question, but how could I refuse her? Especially when she looks like this. Her dark curls are just starting to drop out, leaving her hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. There’s a sparkle in her eye and a flush on her face that draws me to her.

It’s only when my nose brushes hers do I realise I may be too close to her.

But I can’t be too close to her.

Not really.

Not ever.

Everything fades. And all I can see is—

Her.

Her wide hazel eyes reflecting the lights of the dance floor.

Her freckles, smattered across her nose.

Her full, red lips.

The way she lightly wets them.

And leans in.

I swear I stop breathing. I swear I stop moving.

And then it all comes crashing back when her lips hit mine.

She tastes like raspberries. She tastes like lime. She tastes like home. Time is frozen. And when I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, she tips her head back, deepening the kiss. I swear she moans into my mouth. I can hear Ben whistle somewhere very far away from here. She’s so warm, so soft under me as I wrap my arm around her lower back.

When her mouth leaves mine, the sudden rush of cold air shocks me. She’s pale. Really pale. Wide eyes meet mine. I’ve overstepped.

“Eden? Is everything okay?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

I can tell you right now it’s not my proudest moment kissing a girl and having her immediately throw up. Gemma swooped in and rushed her off to the bathroom about ten minutes ago, and they’ve only just re-emerged.

Ben has spent the whole time trying to reassure me that Eden’s hasty departure had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with the one-too-many drinks she’s had. I try to believe him.

But when I see her teetering back over to us—leaning a bit too heavily on an inebriated Gemma for my comfort—I realise that Ben is right. Or at least I hope he is. The shine of sweat is obvious across her forehead as she gives us a weak smile.

“Sorry about that. I think it’s time for us to go home,” Gemma says, desperately trying to balance a wobbly Eden. So, when she stumbles out of Gemma’s arms into mine, I don’t complain.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

When she looks up at me, I can tell she’s physically and mentally drained. She has the same furrow in between her eyebrows that she gets when she’s stressed.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all this.” Her eyes are glossy as they meet mine, struggling to focus.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Nodding wordlessly, Eden lets me guide her to a waiting car outside. Ben follows, supporting Gemma who keeps mumbling about the thinness of the toilet paper at the venue and showing Ben videos of Sam and her going cow tipping. Go figure.

It’s a quiet ride to the girls’ residential hall. Ben sits in the front seat and I’m wedged between two drunk girls who think my shoulder is the most comfortable thing ever. I’m not surprised when I hear soft snores leave Eden’s lips.

When we arrive at the halls, I am surprised to see a woman who looks like she could be Gemma’s twin waiting for us. The same long auburn hair tied up in a bun. The same unamused expression. When the car rolls to a stop she yanks the door open.

“Can’t say I’m too surprised, Gemma.”