A Different Blue(130)

wasn't getting that truth. Not now. Not after he had ruined everything.

Wilson's eyes were on my mouth, and I could tell he was fighting an inner battle whether to

establish his kissing prowess or let me calm his guilty conscience. He really couldn't have it

both ways. Either the kiss was a very big deal and we were in an entirely different relationship

than he was ready to admit, or the kiss was just a game among friends and he could go on

pretending that everything was tidy and uncomplicated and he was just the good guy who looked

out for Blue Echohawk.

He approached me, moving deliberately. He stopped just below me so I was only one step above

him. Our eyes were now level, as were our mouths.

“It was no big deal?” he said softly.

“Just a silly game,” I answered, just as quietly.

“So why do I want to do it again?”

My heart was pounding so hard that it echoed in my head.

“Maybe you just need to prove to me that you aren't an old woman?”

“Ah . . . that's probably it. I just need to show you that I am indeed a man, capable of

delivering a kiss that won't make you think of crochet needles and baggy stockings.”

“And talcum powder and dentures.”

Wilson's mouth was a breath away. “That must be it.”

My eyes fluttered closed as he nipped at my bottom lip and then my top. Then he parted my lips

with a nudge of his tongue, tasting me softly. His tongue found mine, and we stood, with only

our mouths touching, only our mouths moving. For several minutes we remained this way, our

bodies inches apart, our hands at our sides, completely focused on the meeting of our lips. The

kissing was slow, sweet, languorous, like a cat stretching in the sun.

And then it was over. I held myself still – waiting, hoping – for his mouth to find mine

again. But it didn't. My eyes slid open heavily, unwilling to face the end of a truly staggering

kiss. Wilson was watching me, a small smile on his lips.

“Take that, Camilla,” he whispered. Without another word, he sidestepped me, walked up the

stairs and unlocked the door. He held it open, waiting for me to turn and join him. My limbs

felt sluggish and I couldn't keep my eyelids open. The roof of my mouth was so sensitive it was

as if I'd eaten peanut butter while in a coma.

Wilson walked me to my door and whispered, “Goodnight Blue.”

I didn't respond. I just watched him walk up the stairs to his apartment, wondering how he had

managed to get the last word after all.





Wilson resumed avoiding me for the next month. Maybe he was busy, maybe the new semester had him

working late. Several nights I heard his footsteps in the apartment above me after nine o'clock.

A teacher's life was a thankless one, I supposed. But I suspected it had more to do with the

kiss on New Year's and staying away from me than an increased work load. And, of course, there

was Pamela.

Pamela was back from England, worming her way back into Wilson's life, gobbling up his spare

time. They went to the movies, out to dinner, and even played tennis over the weekend. I had

never even held a tennis racket. Guess we wouldn't be playing doubles. Plus, I didn't exactly

have a partner. I couldn't imagine Bev being very good at tennis, and other than Wilson and

Tiffa, she was my best friend. And that was just plain sad.