Last Perfect Snow
By: Jonathan Unruh
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction any similarities to real people alive or dead and any events are coincidental only. This work may contain topics or events that some readers may find offensive by continuing beyond this point you accept responsibly for any offense that you may take and will not hold the author responsible for such offense. Do not continue if the reading of this material is an offense in your locality. You have been warned. This work is the sole property of the author and should not be reproduced in any way, shape, or form without written consent of the author.
Surprise I'm Gay
Okay, at this point you are most likely thinking one of two
things; one why the hell did you run, or two, go back and kiss him again. Trust
me, as I ran from him both thoughts were going through my head. The only
problem was that I was afraid. I mean I had just done one of the most important
things in my entire life. I had just kissed another human being, and not that
whole your grandma kisses you on the cheek at Christmas kind of kiss, but a lip
to lip, passion filled kiss. I don't care what anyone says, that is a major
event in anyone's life.
What was I afraid of though? It wasn't what others would think about me. I have never cared about that stuff. People can think what they want. They will no matter what I say or do anyways, so I could care less. However; now there was one person's opinion that I did care about and I had just kissed him. If he rejected me because of it, if he looked me in the face and told me what I did was wrong... I don't think I would recovered. So instead of facing him with all the possibilities that would have brought, I did the only thing I could do: I ran.
I ran so hard and so fast that I amazed myself at how quickly I managed to make it home. Actually, I didn't even realize where I was going until I opened my front door. It wasn't really my destination when I started to run, in fact I didn't care where I ended up. All I was thinking about was getting away.
"Mom are you home" I called out stepping inside, shaking off the cold.
I love my house. It may be small, and not look like all that much to anyone else, but to me it's perfect. Everything inside just screams of a loving and close family, and that is exactly how mom wants it. She says that since a piece of our family is missing we need to fill every space of our home with love. So that's what she did. Everywhere you looked in our living room there were pictures of our little family. Gifts are proudly displayed. Some of them are tacky and ugly, but they came to us out of love and so we think them beautiful. I guess when everything flipped into automatic the flood of emotions is what naturally took me home, to where I feel safe.
I moved back toward the kitchen. The kitchen is the best room of all. Despite working full time and then some, my mom always managed to make the kitchen smell like fresh baked bread. If you have never smelled my mom's bread, then you are missing out on one of the best smells in the world. If love and home had a smell that is what it would smell like. No matter where I go, when I catch a whiff of fresh baked bread it always takes me home. My only hope is that when I have a place of my own my kitchen will always smell like that.
"Mom?" I repeated.
It was a relief when she didn't respond, not that I was expecting her to, being a single parent with a teenage son meant that she needed to work all year round. She loved her job at the elementary school, she even called all the children in her third grade class her kids, but it didn't pay enough for her not to work when school was out. A few years back she had made a deal with a local hotel to work as the front desk person on all holidays so that their regular staff could have days off. In exchange, they kept her on the payroll and she worked when school was out. It was an okay deal. It usually meant that we had our holidays the next day. That didn't matter to me. My mom always said that the actual day wasn't what was important but the spirit behind it, so it was an easy sacrifice to make. We got to live here and have food on the table all year round.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror as I made my way to my room. I stopped in amazement. I was really glad that mom wasn't home. My face was stained with slightly frozen tears. I wiped them away and they were replaced with new fresh tears. I was crying! Okay, you might be wondering why that was such a big deal, well, I'll tell you. I never cry; not since I was five years old and my dad died. I didn't even cry last year when grandpa died, I just can't cry. I have tried to make myself cry; watched sad movies, read books that were `guaranteed tear jerker's', but nothing happens. It's not that I don't feel the emotions. When grandpa died I was sad, I even wanted to cry, the tears just wouldn't flow, so standing here in my hallway crying was a major deal. His kiss, his eyes, his compassion, even the way he talked to me revived something inside of me that I thought was long dead.
It sounds insane to be saying this, the whole thing lasted five minutes but I can't help it, that was how it felt. I was never one to believe in love at first sight, but opening my eyes to his concerned face changed that. I realized that from the moment that I wanted to kiss him, I was in love. Breaking away from the mirror I went to my bed and just allowed the feelings that I had bottle up all these years to flood out. Everything came out in one big burst.
I don't know if you have ever had one of these moments but they are rather draining. A minute of crying can feel like an hour of jogging. So when the door bell rang I didn't want to get up to answer it. Whoever it was at the door was both patient and persistent. I finally got up to answer the door and stopped. I had just been crying and must look like a mess. Since the person at the door had waited this long anyway, I made a quick stop in the bathroom to clean up some.
Now like I said I'm not used to crying, and so I have forgotten how much of a mess your face can be just from crying. I assessed the damage; eyes big and puffy, face wet with fresh tears, and my nose was red. All in all I looked like a mess. I sighed and almost went back to bed; however, the person at the door was very persistent. I doubted they were going to leave until I went to the door and got rid of them.
When I opened the door to get rid of this pesky person I froze. Not from the cold, but from who was standing at my door. Not in a million years, not in any of my wildest dreams would I have guessed when I got up that morning that any of this would happen to me; let alone that I would meet this person standing before me. I forgot my puffy eyes. He was perfect.
"Are you ok?" were the first words that came out of his mouth. Despite everything, he still cared enough to ask.
"I... I'm sorry, I didn't..."
I was stammering. His presence was having that same unmistakeable effect on me. My body was betraying me. The instinct to run was coming back, but luckily for me I had nowhere to go.
"I was worried about you when you ran off like that" he said stepping up another step so he was very close to me. When I say close I mean close, only a few centimetres more and our noses would be touching. "That and I figured I should introduce myself. The name's Jordan."
"That was nice of you considering what..." my voice trailed off. He was very close. I tried not to look at his eyes or lips.
"This isn't the part where you get shy" he replied with a rather cocky grin on his face. "This is where you tell me your name."
"Why would you want to know my name after what happened? Wait! Why are you here?" I was suddenly nervous and I took a step back. He might be angry. I estimated the distance between us. Now that I think about it, if he was here to kick my ass stepping back like that wasn't a wise idea. At this angle he could make a perfect punch to my nose.
"You know for someone who kisses when you first meet someone you are shy." He seemed almost exasperated, like my lack of response was delaying something. This only made me more nervous. At this point I wished I had listened to my mom when she wanted to sign me up for karate. "I just want to know your name please, I'm not asking much considering..."
He did have a point, so I did the only thing I could: I gave in. "Fine my name is Ryan. What are you going to do now? Beat the shit out of me?"
"No" he said stepping closer again. "I had something much better in mind. I just like to know the name of the person who I'm kissing." With that the distance between us was closed, and we were kissing again. My brain was in total overload. Not only was I having the second kiss in my life, but I wasn't the one that had started it.
Now remember when I told you that the first kiss was perfect? Well I was wrong. Our second kiss was so much better. Our lips were moving in time with each other. Unlike the first kiss there was no apprehension. Well that is after the first few seconds wore off and I relaxed into the kiss. What really made it special was the knowledge that not only did I want this kiss, but so did he. I didn't know what he felt or what he wanted, but with that kiss I was looking forward to learning everything about him.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, his hand began to slowly glide up my chest over my shirt. The feeling was intense; even more so when he stopped and caressed my cheek. Whenever I saw two people kissing on TV, I always wondered why they did that. Now I knew. His kiss was passionate and conveyed love, and that simple gesture added so much more love into the kiss that I felt weak in the knees.
Anyone who has been kissed like that knows you get lost in it. Nothing around you matters but the person that you are kissing. The world just seems to fall away. So it was no big surprise that I didn't hear the car drive up or her calling for me to help with the groceries. All I heard was the gasp coming from her mouth that broke our kiss.
Author's Note: I know at this point you all hate me, but you are going to have to get used to cliff-hangers because I like writing them. As always I look forward to hearing from you, since that is what encourages me to write so please feel free to e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org tell me what you think about this story. I would also ask that you include a huge thanks to Eliot my editor. Other than the constant thanks he gets from me his job is rather unglamorous, especially since I have not been feeling well and my writing has suffered. Thanks to his tireless efforts not only is this chapter readable, but is a 100% better than the original draft. So please tell him how much you appreciate his work, I will forward all you messages to him. Chapter 3 COMING SOON!