Page 57 of The Death of Kisses

As the third movie ended, I couldn't help but let out a tired yawn that echoed my exhaustion. I glanced at the clock, and despite the late hour, time seemed to crawl in painfully slow increments. Lilly caught my yawn and gently smacked my shoulder, her eyes sparkling with mischief and warmth.

“Come on,” she urged, her voice filled with infectious energy, “jump up and do some jumping jacks or something!” I couldn't help but laugh, the tiredness weighing down on me yet pulled by her spirited mood.

“I'm too tired,” I groaned, trying to sit up, but she quickly sat in front of me on her blankets spread out on the floor, her face shining with excitement. She tapped my leg until I looked right into her eyes, her blonde hair tumbling like sunlight across her shoulders.

“No, you have to stay awake! It's tradition!” she insisted, her smile bright and unwavering, a flicker of childhood hope shimmering in her gaze.

I hesitated, remembering, “I honestly remember we skipped it for your birthday…” But as soon as those words left my mouth, regret gnawed at me. “Shit, Lilly, I am so sorry.”

Her radiant smile dimmed, vulnerability flickering behind her eyes as she shook her head gently. “No, don’t be. You're right. We didn’t do it for my 18th,” she muttered, her voice distant, carrying the weight of memories so heavy they seemed to linger. Her breath hitched as if the past’s ghosts were still haunting her, refusing to fade away.

Still, I tried to bring some light back. “Anyway, let’s head to the kitchen and prepare the pie,” I offered softly, a small smile touching my lips, trying to lift her spirits.

We gathered blankets and pillows, stumbling across each other’s paths, creating a cozy chaos that we knew would need tidying tomorrow. As we moved, I watched Lilly carefully pull a warm, bubbly apple pie from the oven, the aroma wrapping around us like a comforting embrace. I reached out eagerly for a tiny taste, but she gently swatted my fingers away with a teasing smile.

“Don’t touch, it’s hot,” she warned, her voice tender yet firm. I laughed, feeling the warmth of her presence pouring over me.

“Oh, come on,” I pleaded, eyes fixed on the tempting edges of the pie, “it looks just delicious!”

She placed the pie neatly next to a set of glass plates, then grabbed a carton of ice cream from the freezer with a grin.

“Not until it melts the ice cream,” she said softly, her smile enchanting as she dished out generous scoops of pie and ice cream, blending warmth with coolness, sweetness with spice.

Turning to the counter, she pulled out two small candles, tiny beacons of celebration for my eighteenth birthday. I hadn’t even noticed them until now, and in that moment, a surge of gratitude and love washed over me, filling the night with promises of new beginnings and treasured memories.

She positioned it in the center of the ice cream and fumbled with a match box from her pocket.

Turning around to check the clock she smiled. “Happy birthday Charlotte.”

“Thank you Lilly,” I smiled, taking a deep breath and watching as the clock struck midnight I blew them out.

The candle's flame went out and I thought long about what I wanted, a small feeling of warmth dwelling in my heart as I settled on it.

We devoured the pie in record time, hearts light and bursting with laughter as we dreamily drifted into thoughts of what adventures awaited us after school. It was a moment of pure joy, calm and contentment intertwined, everything glowing softly with the warmth Lilly infused into every corner of the house—like a gentle hug that refused to let go.

“Come on, let’s head upstairs,” I urged, my voice thick with exhaustion and a yearning to hold onto this magic, another yawn threatening to spill over.

“Alright,” she replied with a tender smile, her eyes full of shared secrets and comfort.

We moved silently, almost reverently, up to the second floor, my steps guiding me toward Lilly’s room.

“Do you want to hear what I wished for?” I asked softly, glancing at her as she changed into cozy sleepwear, my heart pounding with the weight of my secret. I was perched on the edge of the clawfoot tub, watching the water fill with jasmine-peach scent—an aroma as sweet and delicate as the moment itself, as if the universe had conspired to cradle us in beautiful, fleeting serenity.

“You aren’t supposed to tell me,” she aired with half-hearted bravado, but we both knew that rule was never meant for best friends—never meant to contain the depths of what we felt. She sat beside me, eyes shimmering with curiosity, and I felt my heart pounding wildly, caught between fear and longing. I reached out, grasping her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, as she leaned in so close that I could whisper my secret straight into her soul. We were so near that I could taste her, could feel the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. The water in the basin behind us gurgled softly, echoing the tumult inside me. My lips trembled with nervous anticipation, yet I knew I couldn’t hold back any longer—I closed the space between us and pressed my mouth to hers. It was a gentle, longing touch, an unspoken plea for connection. She didn’t resist, so I clung to that, pulling her closer, eager to believe there might be a flicker of mutual feeling. But just as I parted my lips to soften into more, she pulled away, retreating like a fragile bird escaping a storm.

“Oh, Charlotte, I—” she started, hope and dread battling inside me, yet I somehow already knew the truth. Still, I clung to denial, wishing it weren’t real.

“You don’t love me,” I said coldly, the words falling from my lips like a shard of ice.

“I don’t love you like this,” she replied, gesturing helplessly between us, her voice cracking. My heart thundered painfully in my chest, each beat echoing my shattered hope, as she began to speak of him—her lover, my brother. The words hit me like a punch to the gut, a devastating reminder of the impossible. And in that moment, I was torn between love and heartbreak, caught in the unbearable ache of forbidden truths.

“Charlotte, you are and forever will be my best friend, the one person I’ve trusted with my deepest hopes and fears. But I can’t ignore the aching truth inside me—I don’t feel the same way.”

It torments me to listen to it, she hadn’t even let me speak beyond that kiss—she just assumed, as if she already knew what my heart was hiding.

I don’t remember exactly when my hands shoved her back into the water, only the overwhelming shock that registered on her face as I did it. The betrayal, the pain—it’s etched into my memory. I stepped into the tub, offering to help her up, but instead, in a moment of chaos, we found ourselves in this tangled, impossible position—closer to lovers than I ever intended. The oils and bubbles made it impossible to find footing, to pull ourselves apart, and in that silence, my mind raced with dark, depressive thoughts.

That’s when the cruel thought crept in—a bitterness tearing through me—that Lee had my best friend, and yet, he didn’t care as much as I did. Envy and rage fought inside me as I reached forward, turning off the water, fingers skimming across the razor and its deadly blades, the cold metal sending shivers through my veins.