Page 89 of Eye of the Beholder
Cohen
What on earth is she doing?
I set down our cups and follow her, laughing to myself. I open the coat closet.
“Whatcha doing?” I say, grinning at her terrified face. “This isn’t—” But before I can finish speaking, she’s grabbed a fistful of my shirt and yanked me into the closet, pulling the door shut behind us.
“I can’t kiss Jack,” she says, sounding urgent.
My heart picks up its pace. She’s close enough to me that I can smell her perfume. It’s a heady, intoxicating scent. I think flowers are forever ruined for me; I’ll never be able to smell anything floral without thinking of her.
“Why not?” I say, leaning against the door frame.
“Because I don’t know how to kiss,” she whispers, sounding mortified.
“Oh,” I say, my heart sinking. “Is that all?”
“Is that not enough?” she says. It’s not an answer.
I shrug and fold my arms, even though she can’t see me. “It’s not hard.”
“Says the man who’s kissed plenty of women,” she says. I hear the rustle of fabric. “Oh, these stupid coats!” she says. “They’re all squashy.”
“That’s on you,” I point out. “You chose the coat closet.”
“I didn’t know it was a coat closet,” she says. “I thought it might be a bathroom.”
“Nope,” I say with a grin. “Coat closet.”
“I know that now,” she says, and I can practically hear her roll her eyes.
“So what was your plan? Hide out until midnight has come and gone?”
“I hadn’t thought it through fully, but yes; that was definitely the gist.”
“You could just tell Jack you don’t know how to kiss,” I say. “I’m sure he’d be happy to teach you.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but I’m not entirely successful.
I wait for her response, but none comes. She’s silent, although I can hear her breathing.
“Mina?” I say after a minute.
“I don’t want Jack to teach me how to kiss,” she says, her voice quiet.
“May I ask why not?” I say. My voice is surprisingly steady.
“You could ask, yes,” she says, sounding hesitant. I hear the rustle of coats again.
“And would you answer?” I say, trying to make out her face in the dark, but it’s no use. My eyes haven’t adjusted yet.
“I might.”
“Am I not going to get any straight answers from you on this?” I say.
She pauses. “You might.”
Despite myself, I grin. She’s cheeky. “You’re impossible, Willy. You want to know what I think?”
She sighs. “Probably not.”
