58Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXVRMB0oWNQ
Émilie woke up in the morning and she was very confused for a short while as to where she was and when. Then images of the last night came into her mind: Of them getting inside after being yelled at by some weird dude. Of them trying not to look at each other and just silently getting ready for bed. Of them sitting on Melinda’s couch, holding hands and just being together, without needing any words. Of her falling asleep on the sofa as Melinda sat beside her and kept her hand on her shoulder.
Émilie rose and looked around her. She was on Melinda’s couch in her living room. She was wearing her pajamas, and she was under Melinda’s blanket. It was nice and warm and fluffy, and it had cherry-blossom motifs on it, which were Émilie’s favorites.
She glanced at the clock on the wall; 6:15 in the morning. Too early to wake up. She leaned back and pulled the blanket over her, so only the top of her head was showing. It was warm and dark and safe under there.
Suddenly she jumped up and touched her lips with her fingertips. Her eyes were wide open, and she was staring into the distance, unfocused.
She.. kissed me… Émilie thought. But she’s straight… Right? she added. She brushed her lips with her fingers again. Her lips… so soft… so warm. She closed her eyes.
Why did she…? Does she…? But she had a boyfriend, right… right? Or… did I just assume? She never talked about any boyfriends… oh my goddess, what if she’s a lesbian, too?! Have I made her feel awkward? Would I…? What was it that they say? Try to imagine kissing the person and you’ll know if you like them like that? Was that it? I don’t really have to imagine that much, though. Would I like to do that again? She was quiet for a while and a blush crept on her cheeks. Her lips parted and her breathing got faster.
Émilie suddenly got up and walked quickly into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Her face was red and her ears hot. She went to the sink and washed her face with cold water, then looked into the mirror.
Oh man, she thought. That… that definitely was something. I don’t know why my brain went there, but… yeah, kissing her does not sound like anything that I’d hate, nor did… that… sound like it either. She shook her head. But I’m her friend, I can’t… but she kissed me! And it certainly didn’t feel like a friendly smooch. It was right on my lips…
She touched her lips with her fingertip. And she said all those words… I have to ask her. I’m so confused. I’ll ask her right when she wakes up!
Émilie opened the door and almost walked into Melinda, who was just about to open the bathroom door. She was wearing only her underwear, a white, almost see-through bra and small cute white panties with an awfully cute tiny bow at the front.
Émilie’s face went red pretty fast and she tried to look away, but her eyes were glued to Melinda’s body.
Melinda opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, she just walked past her and went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Émilie went back to the living room and started putting it back to the way it was supposed to be before she’d messed up the couch by sleeping on it.
In the bathroom, Melinda leaned into the door and panted hard. Why did she have to be there? She thought. There? Now? Of all the places and all the times, here, now? Her cheeks turned red and her ears felt hot. She touched her lips with her fingers.
I kissed her… I really did. I kissed Emi. Why did I kiss her? Why did it feel so right? Her lips were so fine… soft, silky and lustrous. Even in the cold air yesterday, they felt warm, almost hot against her own. And her scent!
Melinda remembered the sweet fragrance vividly. She took a deep breath and a bang of regret ran through her body since the scent was not there anymore.
If you can imagine kissing them and not feel disgusted or indifferent about it, she thought, it means you like them, right? That’s the ‘do-I-like-them-romantically’ advice, yes? And.. Oh yeah. Oooh, yeah. My heart aches for more kisses. Even now I would like nothing more than to run out of here and jump her and cover her with kisses.
I’ve never felt like this because of anybody else. Does that mean I’m like her? That I like girls.. In that way? Or just her? What does that make me? A lesbian? Émilie-sexual?
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