On Friday, as I scanned the posts in my blog feed, I came across Dan’s flash fiction challenge. It had an intriguing title: Kiss Me.
That is, write a kissing scene.
Now, while I’m not a romance writer (as some of the writers commenting in the challenge clearly are), the need for a kissing scene has come up at least once in every book I’ve written and will come up again in future stories. So it would behoove me to take this opportunity to practice.
The good news is Dan laid out some possibilities regarding the type of kiss to write:
Could be a long, lingering, delicate kiss between forbidden lovers, stealing a precious moment they’ve both longed for…
Could be a sad kiss goodbye…
A mother playfully kissing her child as she puts her to bed…
A husband tearfully kissing his wife as he closes her casket…
Could be something else.
Something dark and scary.
Something toe-curlingly hot.
Kudos to Dan for making “toe-curlingly” an adverb.
Anyway, there are many types of kisses, and as I pondered what I would post for the challenge, I saw this graphic go by on Facebook.
So I decided to expand the challenge for myself: can I write a scene that highlights a specific type of love?
For extra fun, I decided to make it a game. Two scenes follow this paragraph, and you decide what kind of love I’m trying to relay in each one. I guess whether you’re correct decides if I did a good job. Ha. I’ll list the answers at the very end of the post, but try not to cheat.
I scan the cafe’s interior, then swallow and glance at the time. My drink shakes in my hands. Relax. It’s still early.
Scolding myself, I find a small table with two chairs set against the wall and position myself to face the door. No way I’m going to miss his arrival, not after all this time.
As I spin my wedding ring around my finger, I mentally repeat the story I’ve told myself for weeks, the one I have on stand-by in case anyone gets curious: He’s the doctor who took care of me when I broke my finger last year. Remember? He’s just following up. Some doctors are still like that.
Yeah, and they give out their personal numbers and text their patients every day, too. And I’m sure many doctors meet their patients for coffee two towns over.
My inner critic is silenced with another sip. I’m not going to chicken out, not after thousands of messages and the conversations we’ve had.
The bell over the door jingles, and in he strolls. His brilliant smile covers his face the instant he sees me, and instead of heading to the counter to order a drink, he comes right for me.
My breath catches in my chest. God, he’s even cuter in person than I remember.
Without a word, he holds out his hand, and I put mine into it. I stand, meeting those dark eyes that for most of the last year I’ve only seen in pictures. My stomach knots with anticipation.
He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. His smile widens. I shudder as he moves his fingers to my chin, lifting it. Closing the distance between us, he brushes my lips with his, teasing me. I ache for his kiss, something I’ve never experienced yet I know will be familiar.
So close to me I can feel his breath, he says, “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this.”
A chill courses through me, and a longing hurt takes hold in my belly.
Moving his hand to the back of my neck, he presses his lips into mine. Soft and warm, they move slowly, responding perfectly to my motions. My heart pounds against my chest so hard I’m sure he can feel it. He opens his mouth slightly, deepening our kiss, as he frames my face in his hands.
After what feels like a blissful eternity, he pulls back and gazes into my eyes. “We should have done that a long time ago.”
A familiar song plays. Our song. I nudge Bill on the arm and tilt my head towards the band.
He shrugs, stands, and offers his hand to me. Together, we walk to the floor. We assume the proper dancing posture, his arm around my back and mine on his side. Proper. Just like we’ve done for the past thirty years.
The notes swirl around us as we move. He looks all around the room, but I keep my eyes on him. Eventually, his attention will come back to me.
As the song ends, his eyes find mine, and I smile. It’s been so long since we’ve done anything this romantic. Hope fills me. He gaze lingers for a moment before he bends down, finding my lips with his.
His mouth is tight and barely moves. I open mine a little, offering a deeper moment, but he pulls back and after a brief glance into my eyes, he looks towards our table. “I think I’ll get another drink. You want anything?”
My shoulders slump. “A Chardonnay would be nice.”
He gives me a peck on the cheek and leaves me standing alone on the dance floor.
Scene 1 was romantic love. Scene 2 was empty love. How’d you do?
Feel free to jump in with a scene of your own, either here or on Dan’s blog. You can even have us guess the type of love you’re writing, as I did. It was more challenging than I thought it would be!