Emptiness

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

George

My eyes flickered with unease as I tore away from the quick peck, perhaps a little too hastily. No, it's not as if I didn't fancy kissing her, because there was nothing I desired more than to feel her soft, delicate lips on mine. It's just that I hadn't been entirely certain on how she would respond to it; there was this unrecognizable anxiety within me, as if me gut was doing cartwheels. I was so bleeding skittish, and I didn't even know why.

I stifled a snicker as I envisioned the silliest thing ever, the comical image of her kicking me right where it hurts, straight in me bollocks. I doubted she would do something so senseless, but you can never know. From what I could tell, she clearly was no extrovert.

She did nothing of the sort (thankfully). Instead, she stood motionless, avoiding me 'brill' gaze once more. Her cheeks scorched madly, as if a forest fire had ignited, spreading across her face... but that's what I admired about her. Maybe her timidness was exactly what drew me to her in the first place. I mean, could you picture that? A place bustling with Brigitte Bardot wannabes, and there she is, sitting all alone in a corner? She didn't make a single peep, her eyes glued to the page she was examining.

I beamed like a complete, utter dimwit at the thought, but that was perfectly alright.

"Are you okay?" I interrogated, my smile immediately fading as I took notice of her still-blue appearance. Tears stained her cheeks, which again were beginning to flush into a rosy shade of pink. Salty water lingered in the corner of her eyes, threating to forge into tiny droplets. I hurriedly worked to get rid of them, dabbing at them before they could manage to pour out.

She didn't answer properly, instead staring down at the dingy streetwater, which drowned her bare feet. Her orbs were stretched wide, as if in fright. Her frail body quivered as she parted her lips to speak, "Y-you k-kissed m-m-me?" Her voice came out dazed and aghast; the sentence itself was spoken like a question, as if she was dubious of whether I had really meant to kiss her.

Well, how on Earth was I supposed to reply to that? I knew it wouldn't be mannerly of me to leave the question awkwardly suspended in the air like that; I needed to think of something, fast. Still, I couldn't compose a single flattering, spoony line to assure her that the kiss was as real as could be. A million compliments and pick-up lines (mostly ones I had picked up from Paulie) surged through my mind, but I didn't have the bottle to say any of them.

"... yeah," I ended up sputtering out lamely.

Determined to rectify this, I shoved my worry aside. Putting on my best impression of Paul's award-winning charisma and charm, which never fails to lead the talent straight to his bed, I acted as if the bloody butterflies fluttering around in me stomach weren't there.

I stupidly flashed her a bright and wide grin, as if me smile were the finest in the universe, which they certainly weren't. Proudly, I showcased my horribly-crooked teeth and vampiric fangs as if they were something superb. Then, heaving a broad sigh, I worked up the courage to exclaim, "That's right, I did kiss you!"

Then, for just a teensy-tiny moment, it seemed as if she believed me completely.

Good, she should.

A shy but delighted smile tugged at the corners of her lips. I instantly realized that she probably deserves the best-smile trophy, too, because she looked so damn lovely when she was happy. Her smile was gentle, sunny, subtle, sweet, and beautiful. In fact, I could have sworn that when she smiled, the dusky, purple-soaked skies and dreary rainclouds were illuminated.