First Kiss drabble
Title: Moment of Truth
Author: Aussie
Rated: T
(300) words
Character: Edith/various
He held her gaze and took her hand. Her heart thumped, and she flushed, waiting for his kiss. She closed her eyes as he bent down. She felt his mouth merely whisper across hers.
She licked her lips, tasting where he’d barely touched.
Memories of other kisses flooded her senses.
She was twelve. Squashed in the wardrobe, behind her mother’s party dresses, Patrick found her mouth. They giggled, wondering what all the fuss was about.
She was sixteen. Against the swinging door in the stable, Patrick kissed her hard, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. Her startled brain had just caught up with what was happening when he released her and strode off towards the house. That night, her father announced to the family that Mary and Patrick would marry at the end of Mary’s first season.
She was twenty-one. Sir Anthony leant so close she thought she could taste him then. But, he didn’t kiss her. Soon after, he didn’t propose either.
She was twenty-three. The hay in the barn evoked memories of Patrick and the beer loosened her inhibitions. She could get away from her family, her name, her wealth, her loneliness, and be someone who didn’t have to worry about doing the right thing all the time. Yet she did worry when she saw Mrs Drake in the village a few months later.
She was twenty-five. Patrick’s lips found hers in the garden at dusk. She closed her eyes, wanting to believe she’d be able to just know if it was really him from this kiss. He misread her reaction, thinking she was trying to block out his scars. He strode away again.
She was twenty-seven. He kissed her again, slowly coaxing her mouth apart, his tongue tentatively caressed hers.
This time, he may propose.
.
Author: Aussie
Rated: T
(300) words
Character: Edith/various
He held her gaze and took her hand. Her heart thumped, and she flushed, waiting for his kiss. She closed her eyes as he bent down. She felt his mouth merely whisper across hers.
She licked her lips, tasting where he’d barely touched.
Memories of other kisses flooded her senses.
She was twelve. Squashed in the wardrobe, behind her mother’s party dresses, Patrick found her mouth. They giggled, wondering what all the fuss was about.
She was sixteen. Against the swinging door in the stable, Patrick kissed her hard, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. Her startled brain had just caught up with what was happening when he released her and strode off towards the house. That night, her father announced to the family that Mary and Patrick would marry at the end of Mary’s first season.
She was twenty-one. Sir Anthony leant so close she thought she could taste him then. But, he didn’t kiss her. Soon after, he didn’t propose either.
She was twenty-three. The hay in the barn evoked memories of Patrick and the beer loosened her inhibitions. She could get away from her family, her name, her wealth, her loneliness, and be someone who didn’t have to worry about doing the right thing all the time. Yet she did worry when she saw Mrs Drake in the village a few months later.
She was twenty-five. Patrick’s lips found hers in the garden at dusk. She closed her eyes, wanting to believe she’d be able to just know if it was really him from this kiss. He misread her reaction, thinking she was trying to block out his scars. He strode away again.
She was twenty-seven. He kissed her again, slowly coaxing her mouth apart, his tongue tentatively caressed hers.
This time, he may propose.
.