Read The Kiss for Free Online Page A

semi-sleep.
    ‘Photo time,’ says Jem.
    I peel my eyes open at the cold blast of a spray sealant on my skin. The internal workings of my hand lie before me in gory detail. Bone, blood and tissue glisten. Veins bulge. It’s grotesque and amazing at the same time.
    ‘I should be in A and E,’ I say incredulously. ‘How do you get the detail so perfect?’
    ‘Reading lots of anatomy books.’ Jem checks his watch. ‘Whoa, that’s the time? I have to be back at the Gaslight by nine. Val’ll dock my wages if I’m late.’
    When in doubt, feel guilty. It’s the English way. ‘Coming here was your idea, not mine,’ I say quickly.
    ‘I know.’
    He plants a hand on the wall either side of me so I am trapped on the stool. His eyes are more blue than grey this close up.
    ‘So,’ he says. ‘Can I kiss you now?’

H e says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he’s offering me a cup of tea or something. He’s so blinking close .
    ‘What?’ I stammer.
    ‘You don’t have to sound so shocked,’ he says reasonably. ‘Your pupils are enormous, which means you like the idea as much as I do.’
    ‘I—’ No one has ever read my eyes like that before. ‘It’s the pot, OK?’
    ‘That makes your pupils smaller.’
    I fight back feebly. ‘These are the pupils in my poo-coloured eyes we’re talking about?’
    ‘I was trying to win back some of the ground I’d lost to that teatowel. I’m thinking more topaz now, or tiger’s eye. You’re lovely.’
    I summon the strength from somewhere and duck under his arm.
    Outside the long windows, the light has faded to nothing and the moon is rising: a great Toffee Penny of a moon, still wearing its golden cellophane, shining over the pinprick lights of an urban evening. I feel like I’m floating on the haze, high up here above the town. Bullet-holed Kev takes pictures; people talk to Jem and peer at my hand like forensic pathologists studying a murder victim. I hardly listen, bombed out by the smell of dope and the effect Jem is having on me.
    The lift back down the block seems smaller than ever. I hold my fingers carefully away from my body and try to think about anything but the figure lounging against the steel walls of the lift beside me.
    ‘Why the zombie stance?’ he inquires, amused.
    ‘I don’t want to smudge it.’ I still find it hard to believe that the skin on my hand genuinely hasn’t been flayed off.
    ‘The sealant will hold it for a while. Anyway, Kev got plenty of good shots, which is all that matters. You’ll have to smudge it eventually. I’ll smudge it for you, if you like.’
    The implication scorches like a red-hot iron. He grins as he catches my reaction.
    ‘I’ll do your collarbone next time,’ he offers.
    My hand was bad enough. Two hours of this guy’s brush on my collarbone and I’ll be a wordless wreck.
    ‘Who says there’ll be a next time?’
    ‘I do,’ he says as the lift stops. ‘Can I kiss you yet?’
    ‘No!’
    He takes my unpainted hand and pulls me down the bleach-flavoured corridor to the double doors and out into the evening. The cool air smacks me in the face like a big glassy glove.
    ‘Not exactly romantic, is it?’ he says, looking at the waterstained concrete and over-full wheelie bins nearby. ‘We’ll find somewhere else for that kiss.’
    ‘You’re very sure of yourself,’ I say, trying not to sound as breathless as I feel.
    ‘Call it optimism.’
    The moon is already starting to lose its golden edge as it pulls away from the earth’s grip. The shadows are confusing, part streetlight and part moonlight, striping the broken tarmac below our feet. I order my fingers to detach themselves from his but they aren’t listening.
    ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ he asks as we walk.
    Say yes and all this will go away.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Did he dump you?’
    ‘Other way round.’ What is this, truth or dare? I’ve caught Jem’s habit of telling it straight. I haven’t even told Tabby