7. a kiss that’s all lust and tongues.
7 /
a kiss that’s all lust and tongues.
charlie
one year ago - the second nye
I never would have pegged Rafael Machado for a Friends fan. When I made that Ross Geller reference, I thought for sure it had gone over his head, but he laughed, that beautiful sound hitting me smack in the ribcage. He lit up when he told me about how he and Adam used to watch it. The same way he does when he’s talking to Adam or Lainey or Maeve. He shared something about his life with me. We’ve never done that before. We’ve never just talked. And it was nice, but something shifted when I told him I didn’t know him very well. And now, I’m sitting here wondering what exactly happened.
I close my eyes and lean my head back on the tree. I hear his words again. That’s not what you said last year, Ginger Spice. In a flash, it all comes back to me. What I said about him being a dumb jock, not having anything to be proud of. Oh no. I really said those horrible things, didn’t I?
You probably peaked in high school. Your little girlfriends probably did your homework for you because you were too dense to figure it out yourself. You wear your conquests like a badge of honor because you have nothing else to be proud of.
I feel like I’m going to be sick all over again. My breathing speeds up, and I open my eyes to see Maeve walking toward me with her brows furrowed.
“Char. You all right?” She places a firm hand on my arm, and my mouth feels dry. I’m still breathing fast, thinking about how mean I was to someone who obviously didn’t deserve it. I’m not that girl. Why did I say those things? I had thought them in a moment of fury, had said them out loud to myself, but I never intended to say any of it to him. “Charlie Mae. Look at me. Did you have too much to drink again? Please don’t throw up in my bushes two years in a row.”
That brings me back to the moment. “No. No, I’m not drunk.” I blink my eyes a few times to get her face to come into focus. “Just how drunk was I last year, exactly?”
Maeve giggles a little, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. “I’ve never seen you that drunk before or since. Raffy nearly had to carry you to your bed.”
She keeps talking, but I can’t hear the words. She just said Rafael nearly carried me to my bed? My head is spinning, and for a moment, it does feel like I might be drunk, except I have had no alcohol tonight.
“Charlie, are you listening to me?” Her look of concern does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.
“No. Sorry.” I shake my head and wave my hand in front of me. “Go back for a second. You said Rafael took me to my room. I thought you had done that. You even left me a Gatorade and painkillers.”
“No, that was all Raffy. He took your shoes off, got you into bed, and left everything on the nightstand for you. When I walked in, he was sitting on the floor, watching you. He was worried you might throw up again, and he didn’t want you to be alone.” Her eyes soften as she retells the memory, and my chest pangs again. “It was quite sweet, actually, the way he took care of you. But that’s Raf.”
“Oh, no.” I shut my eyes tightly in complete disbelief at what I’m hearing. He helped me when I threw up in the bushes, then stayed with me to make sure I was okay? Ugh. Why did he have to be so nice to me that night? Especially after I was so awful to him?
“Char, are you sure you haven’t had too much to drink?” I feel the soothing presence of her hand still on my arm and place my other hand on top of hers, giving it a light squeeze.
“I’m sure. I feel awful that he was so nice to me that night when I wasn’t very nice to him.” My throat tightens again, thinking about him sitting on my bedroom floor.
“I’ve been telling you for years that he’s the nicest bloke!” Her eyes widen again as she gives me that I told you so look.
“I know. I know. You’re right. I’m going to apologize to him, and then I promise I’ll be nicer.” Her whole face lights up at my words, and I can’t help but smile.
“Really? Is this the end of your feud, then?” She squeezes my arm, eyes still bright as a wide grin spreads across her face.
“I guess so.” I shrug, though inside, I am reeling.
How am I going to apologize? When?
She lets out a little squeal as she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I’m just going to take another minute here if you don’t mind. But I promise, I’ll tell him I’m sorry and thank him for what he did.”
“All right, sissy.” Her smile softens, and she tilts her head to the side. “I’m proud of you.”
I smile back at her. “Thanks, Mae.” I squeeze her hand one last time, and she lets me go. “Now get back to being the perfect hostess you are and enjoy your party.”
She blows me a kiss as she walks backward, then she turns and someone grabs her attention as soon as she’s back in the light again. I take several deep breaths, trying to think about how I can even begin to tell Rafael that I’m grateful but, most importantly, that I am sorry.
After a few minutes of trying to psych myself up, I smooth my hands over my skirt and look up. My whole body stiffens, and I freeze as I watch Rafael place his hand on a blonde girl’s waist. She whispers something in his ear, and he laughs. The sound travels over to me, and it might as well be a physical blow with the way I tense at the impact. The very leggy, very beautiful woman runs her fingers up his arm until they tangle in his curly hair. She pulls his face down to hers, and their lips meet in a kiss that’s all lust and tongues. My cheeks heat as I stand there, unable to look away. When they shift, Rafael’s eyes open and lock with mine, and I swear his lips lift into a smile. I jolt back, a grimace taking over my face as I shake my head and remember that Rafael may have done something nice for me once. I may have said some things I didn’t mean while blackout drunk, but he’s still the same guy, just looking for the next woman to conquer.
Well, not this one.
I will never ever fall for his charm, and that’s just the reminder I needed. Rafael Machado is the same disgusting pig he was the day I met him, and regardless of the fact that I should apologize, it’s not happening today.
I walk out of the darkened spot in the garden and head straight inside. Maybe this is a good time to write. I certainly won’t be writing any love scenes, but perhaps I can write about a beautiful womanizing man. Perhaps said beautiful man ends up castrated. Perhaps I can get as descriptive as possible with exactly how such a tragic thing might happen. Seems like a great way to end the year.