Coincidence - Alan May [30]
This long-awaited boyfriend, she now realized, had been little more than an accessory in her mind—a mere escort for whom she had no specific feeling. Whereas the boy who was lying beside her on this brilliant clear night, his hands clasped behind his head, contemplating the stars—for this boy she was experiencing some very specific feelings.
She wasn’t sure she was ready for the feelings, delicious though they seemed to be. Was Pierre feeling them, too? Surely he must be. She could tell that he was when he looked at her. She had known, from the first moment, way back at the airport, that some inevitable magnetic force was pulling them together. She was sure it was more than just physical attraction, however much that was a part of it. But at the same time, there was the closeness she had felt with Pierre from the beginning: the way they seemed to be on the same wavelength about so many things, the way it seemed utterly natural and comfortable to be with him.
Till this moment, anyway, she thought. Why was she suddenly, just now, feeling uncomfortable with him? Why wasn’t he saying anything? How could you ever be sure what a guy was thinking? Did guys think at all?
She knew he enjoyed her company. Hadn’t they spent every possible minute together for the past week? But could she dare hope it was more than that for him? She turned to face him, hoping she could pick up a clue from his eyes or his smile that she meant even half as much to him as he did to her. Her eyes found him propped up on one elbow, looking at her, regarding her with that slightly puzzled expression that came over him when one of the kids used an English slang term.
“Melissa? Would you—” he began, very softly. Then he stopped and instead reached out with the back of his hand to stroke her cheek, very softly.
“Of course,” she replied, understanding now, beyond a doubt, what he was thinking.
And so it was official. Now that they knew where they stood with each other, their shyness vanished and they talked for the next hour about anything and everything. Most of all they talked about their feelings for each other. They agreed that there was simply no use trying to deny them and decided not to worry about what might happen at the end of the year until they reached that point.
Far sooner than she was ready for it, the time came for Melissa to begin her watch shift. Pierre was on his feet first, reaching a hand down to her. He pulled her up and into his arms in one fluid motion, then sought her lips with his own in a kiss that was as gentle as it was ardent.
Melissa stood watch on the port side of the ship that night. She struggled to keep her mind focused on her task. She had just entered the ranks of those who have been kissed. Gone in an instant from the girl who wondered if it was ever going to happen to her to A Woman Who Has Been Kissed. Pierre was her boyfriend! As she kept her eyes on the endless monotony of the sea, she was awed by the way the very first kiss of her life felt so exhilarating and at the same time completely natural.
11
Melissa got up early the next morning overflowing with energy. She joined the few other Floaties awake at that hour for the six-thirty aerobics class, then bounced into the mess hall and slid in beside Pierre for breakfast at seven-thirty. She was starving.
Pierre held her left hand as she dug into her breakfast with her right. Good thing she’d gone to aerobics, he said with a laugh.
She stuck her fork into one of Jarred’s pancakes and a stream of grease spewed out onto her shirt.
“Here,” he said, passing her the maple syrup. “Pour enough syrup on and they’re not so bad. Still bad, but not so bad.”
After breakfast the science teacher, Tom Michaels, rang the ship’s bell eight times for colors, and Irene, a student