Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I hugged my knees to my chest while I gathered my thoughts. It was very important to me that he understood—that he not feel rejected. I couldn’t articulate why it was so important, but I knew that it was. “I’ve been kissed a lot.”
God, what a way to start. Tristan looked startled, and I didn’t blame him. I’d spent the entire time acting like a blushing virgin—for good reason. “In front of the cameras,” I clarified, and he nodded.
“When I was a kid, it was just a quick smack on the lips. Just basically touching our mouths together, but that was intimidating enough—usually for both me and the actor.”
“I’ll bet,” he said softly. “I heard the child actors from the Harry Potter films stressed over kissing scenes.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they did.” I sighed, wanting to tell him more, but not sure I could. But his expression held only kindness, not judgment. “I was seventeen when I was first required to share a real kiss on screen. With an adult.”
“That must’ve been intimidating.”
“It was.” I shivered, remembering it. “The actor was almost forty—older than my dad would’ve been if he’d lived.”
“Shit,” Tristan said. “That’s fucked up.”
“Very much so.”
“Didn’t your mom say anything about it?”
“Yes, she did. The director asked her about it, and she signed off on it immediately.”
“Jesus,” Tristan said. “Didn’t anyone object? Your agent? The actor himself?”
“Nope.” That wasn’t how Hollywood worked—or at least not how it used to work. These days, if actors were lucky, there might be an intimacy coordinator on set to make sure everyone was comfortable with what was happening.
There’d never been one on any movie I’d ever been involved with though.
“So that’s why you don’t like kissing?” Tristan asked. “Can’t say I blame you.”
“That and… it always seems like a lie to me.”
“A lie?” He’d angled his body toward me, and it was like his own news was forgotten. All of his attention was on me.
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I know how to kiss. I know what to do with my mouth. How to use my body to show how much I’m enjoying it. How to pull away afterwards, rub my swollen lips, and smile into the eyes of the actor across from me. But it’s all fake.”
“It’s acting,” Tristan said. “Isn’t it supposed to be?”
“Not the acting, the kiss itself. One mouth on another mouth doesn’t make people melt. It doesn’t change their relationship. It doesn’t make the earth move and the angels weep. It's not like that at all.”
Tristan was silent, but I knew he was thinking about what I’d said. “It’s different when it’s not for a scene.”
“Maybe a little,” I conceded. I didn’t have much experience with men, but I’d been on some dates. I’d had a few kisses that didn’t involve a director yelling, “Action!” But it hadn’t done much for me, and now I wouldn’t do it at all except when I had to for my job. “I think people have just been sold a fantasy. They see these epic kisses in the movies, and they don’t realize what goes into making them. The lighting. The music. The direction. The two people cast for their chemistry together. They see a movie kiss and think that the real-life version must be like that.”
“I’m sorry you haven’t been kissed the way you should’ve been,” he said.
One look at Tristan’s face told me that he didn’t understand, and I wished I’d never brought it up. Better that he think I was a prude than a crazy person or an object of pity.
Still, I tried again. “It’s just a lie we’ve been taught. Like how men always have to be big and strong and never show emotion. And how women are supposed to become slaves to their feelings and hormones every time they’re around a handsome man. That’s not real life, it’s just what we’ve been taught through movies, TV, and books.”
Tristan’s expression didn’t change. “Isn’t it possible that some people do feel the magic of a kiss? When there’s a connection there. When two people care about each other and are excited about what the future may hold for them.”
“It’s just mouths pressed together. Open or closed, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like an orgasm. It’s just something people think they’re supposed to do.” The fact that I’d just said the word orgasm without blushing proved how much I wanted to explain this to him.
Tristan’s blue eyes seemed to peer right into my head, making it all the more frustrating that he didn’t understand. “Would you believe me if I say I thoroughly enjoy kissing?” he asked softly.
I hesitated, not wanting to insult him. “I believe that you think it’s pleasurable. But with guys especially… isn’t it just a step along the way to the main event?”
“Sometimes,” he acknowledged. “But with the right person, it can be incredible. Even without the soundtrack in the background. But you don’t believe me.”