Double Booked

Memories came in blurry focus as Nora regained consciousness the next morning. Her head didn’t hurt like it had two nights ago, but recalling last night felt like a difficult task as she lay in bed. But slowly, one by one, hazed images of the night before came filing in, like a scene selection menu on a DVD. The fort. The scattered cards. The sloshing bottle of wine. The kiss.

The what?

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the palms of her hands against them, both trying to see the image clearer and attempting to stamp it out of her memory forever. The most she could get was their lips hovering dangerously close, but no impact. She desperately hoped that’s all that had happened.

But still.

As if still sensing that headache lurking around the corner with a knife hidden behind it’s back, Nora got up slowly. One foot to the ground, then the other. At an equal speed, she hauled herself down the steps. When her unsteady feet hit the first landing, she took a peak over the ledge - Sid had passed out on the couch, one muscle-clad arm propped under his head in place of a pillow. She propped herself against the railing there and watched him, nostrils flaring slightly with each small snore. His plush lips were pressed together, twitching every so often in his sleep.

God, she thought. Had she kissed him? Her own lips tingled at the thought; she lightly pressed her fingers against them to suppress a smile. Even worse, she determined as she forced her lips into a more neutral expression - Had she wanted to?

Before she could dwell on that answer too long, she hurried down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen.

---

Sid woke to the sound of sizzling bacon, and then the smell. Maybe eggs, too. He kept his eyes shut for as long as possible, making sure he wasn’t imagining it before he got up. The sound of Nora’s soft humming from the kitchen reassured his fantasies. He got up.

“Good morning,” he heard her greet as she lifted himself onto one of the peninsula stools. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” he retorted, running a hand through his dirty hair as he watched her shift in front of the stove. He could tell by the touch that he hadn’t gotten around to showering last night. Which was probably a good thing - from what he could remember, standing wouldn’t have been the best idea.

“How are you feeling?” Nora asked after a few quiet moments, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon - cooked crisp like he liked it - in front of him along with a glass of milk.

“Weird,” he admitted, not sure if he were hungover or not. The grogginess was there, along with the shuffled memories and feeling of weakness. But no headache. Yet. “How bad did we get last night?”

Nora shrugged, not meeting her eyes as she played around with the food on her own plate across from him. He knew she wasn’t being entirely truthful, but decided not to push it.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the sound of chewing and gulping their only interruptions. He hadn’t thought they’d done anything too rash - he remembered the fort and the cards, them acting like children, the wine. But then there was nothing. The question of what had gone on last night ate away at him like an acid, and eventually he couldn’t take not knowing anymore.

Finally, as he got up to put his dirtied dishes in the sink, he worked up the courage to ask her. “Look,” he began, turning around to see her facing him now, propped against the peninsula with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. “Did something go on between us last night, or…” He trailed off, hoping she finish that sentence for him.

Another faked shrug. “N-nothing,” she stammered, her eyes downcast.

“No,” he ordered, not in the mood to be played around with. The acid was spreading, and he needed it to stop. “Tell me. I have a right to know or something, don’t I?”

She huffed a breath that sounded like a distant “Yeah.” Her eyes slowly came up to meet his, shaded with secrecy. Her lips twitched as she began to speak, but them pursed together again. That shape, the shape of her lips right then - he knew.

And she knew that he knew, because he felt the realization wash over him like a wave that left him naked, baring it all to the world. Her eyes squeezed shut and he threw her hands over her face like she was ashamed of what had happened.

“It’s not your fault,” he quickly assured her, trying to pry her arms away from her face so he could look her in the eye. “We were both pretty gone by that point I think, so it just kind of happened I think…” Reassuring speeches were never his strong suit outside of the locker room; he felt that trait shine through especially now.

“We didn’t,” she said meekly, her thin arms still trapped in hi hands. “At least I don’t think we did. Close, but…”

He let go of her, embarrassed that even drunk Sidney didn’t have the courage to kiss a girl as pretty as Nora. Sure, he was a gentlemen and didn’t mind taking his time, waiting for that right moment, checking and double checking that she was okay with it first, but it was about time he grew a pair and throw chivalry aside for once. Because no matter how badly he’d been trying to suppress it, he knew he wanted to. And he knew she’d wanted to, too. Or else she wouldn’t be acting the way she was right now.

“We should have,” he caught himself say as he raised a hand and cupped her little face in it. Heat exploded against every nerve ending. It was too late to go back now - he leaned down, not far because her height was close enough to his, but enough to match his lips to hers. She didn’t pull back as he moved closer, but she felt her go rigid at the close contact. He’d taken her by surprise, but she wasn’t running.

Her rigidity gave way as he carefully pressed his lips against hers, moving them slowly to a silent rhythm. To his relief she kissed back, matching his pace. There wasn’t tongue, nothing too risqué. Just soft kisses. But just those were enough to make him want to throw her on top of the counter and take her right-

She pulled back abruptly, her eyes wide with shock. Her arms gripped the counter behind her, like they were keeping her upward. Her teeth peeked out and bit against her bottom lip, staying there for a second before disappearing again. Then, she finally parted them to speak.

“I’d better do the dishes,” she declared, waiting for him to move out of her way.

“Yeah,” was all he could say, stepping aside to let her move past him, kicking himself along the way with regret. The one time he’d put himself out on a limb just to be thrown down with rejection. Sidney Crosby - the one guy able to get what he needed and then some, unable to snag any girl he wanted.

But she’d kissed back - that he held onto. She wouldn’t have if she didn’t want to.

Still hanging on to that thought, he stepped back into the bathroom, guessing a shower would help clear his head. He’d kissed her, but she’d kissed back.

He could die a happy man knowing that.