My Kind of Woman

11. Lips, and Other Words

At some point, Mio must've left her bedroom. I watched a shadow of no shape pass under the door gap. Jackie shifted her head groggily then, a few strands of her hair slithering under my bed shirt and brushing my warm, rosy skin. The house was hot, and I could feel myself blushing in the heat. Slowly, I pressed my fingers into Jackie's shoulder, trying carefully to edge her off of me to make my escape to see Mio easier. She barely stirred when poked and I took advantage of her deep sleep by pushing her gently again and laying her head against the mattress. The wick of her mouth glistened in the dark with saliva.

Once I was assured she was deeply asleep and comfortable in the new position I'd shifted her into, I slid off the bed onto the carpet and got to my feet. In the corridor, there was little light but enough to see that the veins in my hands had risen under my skin. I wondered who'd turned the heat up so high. It felt more like a July night than one in late November.

The middle step on the stairs groaned under my weight and I paused for an anxious second. There was nothing. I thanked God graciously that Jackie and her dad were such heavy sleepers. And that Mio wasn't.

I thought for a moment about another timeline where Mio hadn't been downstairs, or that I hadn't been close enough with Jackie to stay so much. Would these feelings still have formed? Or was it just with these strange events that I'd realised? What if I had never realised at all? How different would it all be?

Mio wasn't sitting on the loveseat as I'd usually see her, instead she was to my left in the kitchen, running the tap over a tall glass. The moonlight spilling in through the window above her head made silver rings of shine form against her silky hair. Her figure was cloaked under her robe and her feet were bare against the cool tiling of the kitchen floor. Admiring for just a moment did no harm. I watched as her hand brought the glass rim up to her pink lips, her wedding ring gleaming against the light of the moon. Her throat bobbed, her lips moistened, her eyelashes fluttered. Something in me throbbed warmly. We were both women, but she was more of one than I was. Everything about her was feminine; her smooth voice, the shape of her thin fingers, her lips, her body, her attitude. I was entranced, like I was standing down the aisle.

Her face turned and her eyes saw me and I smiled, instantly moving towards her as if I had been before she looked.

"Good night." I said quietly, leaning my lower back against the counter side.

She laughed softly. "Good night, Norah."

I watched her set her glass back down and rest her hip against the counter. Though appearing calm, my heart was ridiculously loud. It was beating far too eagerly as if it was trying to burst through my ribcage. Something was different about the night, and it wasn't just our change in room. It was something more.

"You know," she started, and my eyes flicked from her fingers to her mouth, "I never asked you what you want to do at college. Do you have a plan?"

"I only really have two options - sports with a scholarship or something to do with art." I told her. Rain drummed against the window pane, raising a rhythmic background patter behind our words.

"You do art?" A smile formed on her face, obviously surprised that I didn't just base my life around swimming. I liked her knowing that.

I nodded. "I've been painting and drawing since I was really young."

"I'd love to see what you can do - that's if you're comfortable with showing me." She said kindly, clasping her hands together like she was proud or pleased with me. I didn't think my heart could beat any harder, but it did.

"Of course. I'll find a time to show you when I've got something good." I said quietly, my cheeks getting hot. I was glad we were mostly in the dark, or my blush might have revealed how pathetic I was being. "Did you have a career path you wanted when you were younger?"