A Kiss To Remember

‘Nothing much. He kissed me, just once. It was quite brief, really.’

‘It couldn’t have been that brief if you still remember it. And if it’s totally turned you off all other men ever since.’

‘I didn’t say I was totally turned off other men,’ Angie explained. ‘It’s just that I’ve been waiting for their kisses to do for me what Lance’s kiss did. I guess it’s a matter of a standard of chemistry never being reached again.’

‘So what was so special about the way this Lance kissed?’

‘I don’t think there was anything really special about his technique. I think it was the way the kiss made me feel that was so special.’

‘And how did it make you feel?’

Angie stopped at their door, her heart squeezing tight again at the memory. She inserted the key in the lock but didn’t turn it, her hand freezing as the words were wrenched from deep within her. ‘Like the world had tipped on its axis,’ she choked out. ‘Like I’d died and gone to heaven…’

It was crazy, but even after all these years she could still remember the feel of his steely arms winding tight around her, the heady, intoxicating effect of his lips possessing hers, the blindingly electric shock that had charged along her veins when his tongue had momentarily dipped past her eagerly parted lips.

But it was what he’d said to her afterwards which had caused the lasting damage.

‘I’ll write,’ he had said thickly, when he’d put her from him. ‘And when you’re old enough, we’ll be together properly. I promise…’

Perhaps he’d almost meant it at the time. She could give him the benefit of the doubt after all these years. But that didn’t change the inevitable outcome of his thoughtless arrogance in making a promise he must have suspected he would not keep, in condemning her to years of hopeless longing. In a way, that kiss had ruined her life.

‘Wow, Angie! You really were in love with him, weren’t you? So what became of him? Where is he now?’

Angie snapped back to reality, firmly pushing the still upsetting memories of Lance to the back of her mind. ‘Happily married to a very rich, very beautiful woman,’ she said with seeming calm. ‘They live in Melbourne.’

‘What did the poem say? Can you remember?’

Of course she could remember. Every heartbreaking, humiliating word.

‘Not really,’ she hedged. ‘It was just a lot of sentimental twaddle, much better forgotten.’ Which was true.

‘I presume he didn’t keep in contact after he left,’ Vanessa said drily. ‘No letters or anything.’

Angie threw her a cynical look as she turned the key and pushed open the door. ‘Only a polite note to my parents, thanking them for having him to stay.’

‘Bastard. There again, Angie, it was only to be expected. He was way out of your league.’

Five minutes later both girls were sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping a reviving cup of coffee. Angie was off in another world—worrying about Debbie—when Vanessa returned to the subject of Lance.

‘Did you see him again after that summer?’

‘Yes. A few times.’

‘No kidding. Where? When?’

‘The first time was a few months later at his and Bud’s graduation ceremony. The whole family travelled down to Sydney to celebrate the occasion.’

‘And?’

‘He was polite to me, but distant. And of course there was this very sexy-looking redhead hanging off his arm all the time.’

‘You must have been awfully upset.’

‘Crushed. I’d still been making excuses for him in my mind, telling myself that he was like so many males when it came to writing letters. I thought once we saw each other again everything would be all right. He would see I was quickly growing up—having turned a whole sixteen by then. He would tell me he was still waiting for me.’

Angie’s rueful smile hid a wealth of remembered misery. ‘Silly me. But it was Bud who finally put the nail in the coffin of my one-sided love that day, when he told me that Lance had been voted Superstud of the Year at the party his faculty had held the previous night. Seems he’d had more girlfriends in the past three years than porcupines have prickles. The redhead was the latest—acquired at that very same party. Bud was already taking bets with his mates on how long she would last.’

‘Hmm. Maybe you had a lucky escape, Angie—getting out with only being kissed. He could have screwed you and your life good and proper if he’d wanted to. You have to give him some credit for not taking advantage of your youthful hormones.’

‘Yes, I did think of that. Eventually. I also believed I’d finally forgiven and forgotten, or at least gotten over him…till I literally ran into him in Sydney one day during my second year at university. I had a mid-morning lecture and my train had been late. I dashed out of Wynard Station, and was racing along the street for a bus when I collided with this man. You can imagine my surprise when I realised who belonged to the strong hands which reached out to steady me. I think Lance was just as surprised.’

‘My God!’ he gasped. ‘Angie…’

Angie tried not to stare at him. But he looked so handsome, dressed in dark trousers and a cream sports jacket. And so sophisticated. Only twenty-seven, but the university graduate was gone forever, replaced by the elegant man-about-town he had always promised to be.

She hated her tongue-tiedness; she hated the way she couldn’t stop staring at him; she hated the way her heart was instantly yearning and hoping once more. She hadn’t gotten over him at all. Not for a moment.

His blue gaze swept over her, taking in her typical student dress of jeans and T-shirt, a canvas backpack slung over one shoulder, battered trainers on her feet. ‘I see you made it to uni,’ he said. ‘Did you get into the course you wanted?’

‘Yes,’ was all she could manage. She’d pictured such a chance encounter happening ever since coming to Sydney, had run over in her mind how she would act. So cool, so casually indifferent.

But there was nothing cool or casually indifferent in the way she was gobbling him up with her eyes. Or the way her heart was pounding behind her ribs. God, what a fool she was!

‘You’re looking well, Angie,’ he said. ‘I was sorry I couldn’t make it to Bud’s wedding last month. I’ve been overseas on business. And I’m sorry I can’t stay and talk. I’m on my way to meet someone.’

‘Oh, that’s all right. I can’t stay either. I’m late too. Look after yourself. Bye.’ And she was off, almost running.

‘Where are you staying?’ he called after her.

Her heart leapt as she ground to a halt and turned around. Oh, God, he wasn’t going to ask her out, was he? Please, God, let him ask me out, she prayed.

‘I need to know your address so that I can send you an invitation,’ he elaborated.

‘Invitation?’ she repeated weakly.

‘For my wedding. I’m getting married in October.’

‘Oh…’ Did she look as stricken as she felt? She must have, for suddenly he looked awfully apologetic.

His obvious pity was the saving of her.

Somewhere she found a smile, a bright, breezy smile to hide her inner weeping. ‘Fancy that! Married! Well, congratulations. Look, why don’t you send the invitation to Bud’s place? I keep changing my digs. Must go, Lance. See you on your big day!’

* * *

‘Surely you didn’t go!’ Vanessa exclaimed in appalled tones, glaring at her over the table.

Angie shrugged her admission.