The Taste of My Chapstick on Her Lips - Part 3

The Feeling of Home The Taste of My Chapstick on Her Lips - Part 3 No-Nudity WLW Fiction by Faerie Realm Note: For those who read our original, 19-min Part 2, you can skip this one because it's just the second half of that longer version. Although my partner has been writing for years, this is our first time actually publishing anything online, and it's become clear to us that a 19-min read time is WAY too long for online readers. So we're breaking this up into two parts, and will try to keep future chapters under the 10-min mark. We're learning! This blog continues the story from: https://budgetpixel.com/blog/the-taste-of-my-chapstick-on-her-lips-part-2 I instinctively wanted to take Katrina's hand, and I could almost believe that she wanted me to. But I knew she had a boyfriend, we weren't teenagers anymore, and I couldn't even be sure she wouldn't just disappear from my life again after this visit. So instead of taking her hand, I did a little twirl in front of her and finished with an overdramatic curtsy. "And this concludes my campus tour," I said. "That'll be twenty pounds, please!" She laughed at my silliness, and I felt I'd done the right thing. I suggested a nearby ramen spot, but she wanted to go back to my place, which was fine since I'd restocked the fridge in the five hours she'd been on the train from London. I changed into pajamas and set to work making dinner. "Richard expects me to cook for him," Katrina said, out of the blue, as she put on an apron and started assisting me. "He never helps." "Well, I'm sure he helps with other things," I replied, unsure where she was going with her statement. "No, not really." "But doesn't his uncle know Rishi Sunak or something? I'm sure he'll make lots of money, and maybe even become an MP, like your dad." "Yeah probably," she said with a heavy sigh. "You gonna tell me what's going on, Kat?" "Yes, but first, you have any wine or beer or, better yet, hard liqour?" "Check that cabinet there. My last boyfriend was a bartender on the weekends." "Oh yeah?" Katrina asked, opening the cabinet and taking several bottles from it. "Doesn't seem like your type." "Tell me about it. I chose my first two boyfriends, but I let the last one choose me. Big mistake!" "What happened?" "He was a player, and I wasn't his only girlfriend!" "I'm so sorry, Allie." "Meh, I'm fine. Learned my lesson." "Don't date bartenders?" "No, next time, I'm the one who chooses. I don't let myself be chosen." Katrina nodded, pouring Kahlúa and vodka into two glass tumblers. "Black Russian?" she asked, offering me one of the tumblers. "No milk?" I asked even as I accepted the tumbler and clinked it against hers. "I need it strong for what I have to say tonight." "Well that sounds both ominous and intriguing," I said, then drank her offering. TLDR: We got flat-out plastered by the time we finished our home cooked dinner. We left the dishes in the sink and barely made it to the living room before collapsing onto the couch. We were also giggling about every silly memory I could bring up from our Godstowe and Wycombe days. She finally put a hand on my arm and shushed me until I quit laughing and looked at her. I assumed she was going to finally tell me what had happened with Richard, but then she surprised me by reaching out and touching my hand. "Do you remember we used to hold hands?" she slurred softly, pulling my hand towards her gingerly, as if unsure if I would pull it back. I did not. "Yes, of course," I said, trying to sound casual even as my heart started beating faster. "Can we pretend we're back at Wycombe?" she whispered, spreading my hand and intertwining her fingers with mine, just as we had done years before. My chest started pounding at this point. Part of me wanted to say, yes! Yes, of course! But then, I knew she had a boyfriend, and a boyfriend of roughly three years. And even if she weren't to just disappear from my life again after this visit, I didn't want to be the 'other woman' in their relationship. "Don't you have something to tell me, Kat?" I forced myself to say. "Something about Richard?" "Yes. Yes, I suppose I do." She paused and took a deep breath. "So, Richard asked me to marry him." A sharp stabbing pain pierced my heart, but I smiled through it and even managed to mutter a tepid, "Congratulations." "But I could have told you that without getting drunk," Katrina said, then downed another shot of whiskey. I just stared at her, my heart torn between despair and the remote hope that maybe, just maybe, she had declined his offer of engagement? "So what did you tell him?" I asked, the suspense killing me. "I told him I needed to think about it." Disappointment washed over me, but I nodded. She just wanted my approval, as her BFF, that's all. How could I possibly compete with a handsome guy from a posh family? I resurrected my old mantra: This was always how it was going to be. How it's supposed to be! "That's why I came up here," she continued. "Why it was so urgent. I need to ask you—" "I think you should say yes!" I blurted out, causing her to look up in alarm. "You do?" "Well, I mean he's rich and handsome, and... isn't that what you were going to ask me?" Katrina shook her head, and refilled the shot glass on the table in front of us, this time with tequila. "No, what I wanted to ask you is..." She paused, drained the entire shot glass in one motion, and then took a deep breath. In the pause that followed, my heart started pounding and I had another flashback to our Wycombe days. "This is crazy," she began again, leaning closer, "and I'll understand if you don't want to answer, but what I really wanted to ask is: What flavor chapstick are you wearing?" My joyous heart nearly jumped out of my chest, and my attempts to dissuade myself (she has a boyfriend! almost a fiancé!) suddenly faltered. All I saw was the girl I so adored in high school, sitting on the couch in front of me, asking me for a kiss in the oblique, roundabout way she had used to do. I knew I should respect her relationship with Richard, but I'd had so much to drink at this point, it all seemed like a dream and if it was a dream, well, I wanted to enjoy it, too! So, instead of encouraging her to consider Richard's offer, I smiled dreamily and answered as I had so many times before at Wycombe: "I'm not sure, Kat... can you help me figure it out?" As then, as giddiness washed over me, Katrina slowly leaned towards me. It felt so easy, so natural, our lips meeting after so many years without, as if no time at all had passed. It felt absolutely sublime, but it also felt different, because instead of pulling back after a few seconds, she pressed closer this time. I brought my hands gently to her cheeks, and soon her lips parted, slightly at first, as if tentative, and then, when I reciprocated, wider and wider until soon our tongues were dancing with each other, pushing, probing, and exploring in a way we hadn't been able (or more accurately, willing) to do in high school. To be clear, this was not my first time French kissing someone. I'd had three boyfriends by this point, after all. But this felt different. This was my Katrina, my beautiful Katrina, my high school love—and yes, I could finally admit that she was not just my special BFF, but my high school love as well—and as our tongues mingled, I felt like I had finally found my way home. I don't even know when I climbed on top of her, but when I finally broke the kiss for want of air, I lay on top of her, pressing her down into the sofa. "I missed you, Allie," she whispered up at me. "I missed you more," I replied breathlessly, "but I thought you didn't want— I mean, you didn't return so many of my calls and texts!" "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I was trying so hard to do what was expected of me." And just like that, I forgave her for all the unreturned messages. In fact, my heart broke for her, and for myself as well for the long drought we had endured because of others' expectations. "So what can I do, Kat? How can I help?" To my astonishment, she began sobbing again. "What's wrong? What did I say wrong?" I asked, panicked and confused. But she shook her head, wiped her eyes and smiled through the tears. "You didn't do anything wrong. But this is the problem, you see?" "No, not at all!" "If I'd never met you, Allie, of if I could just forget how we were, then maybe I could accept becoming Richard's trophy wife." "Don't call yourself that. You shouldn't be anyone's trophy wife, Kat. You should be someone's kindred spirit." "See, that's what I mean! This is why I had to visit you! To remind myself that people like you still exist. That I shouldn't have to settle for someone like Richard, who treats me like I'm invisible sometimes." "He doesn't see you, huh?" "Only when I dress up! Or when he wants to fuck me. And he doesn't make me laugh like you do. No one does!" I beamed at her, grateful that she appreciated my silly nature. I may have gotten terrible grades and my university study area (Scottish literature) pretty much guaranteed me a mediocre salary in retail once I graduated, but I could still make Katrina laugh, and that meant the world to me. I got up briefly to turn off the lights and grab a blanket from a drawer. Then I resumed my spot next to her, pulling the blanket over both of us so she wouldn't feel chilly in her tank top. "And I love that you always take care of me," she whispered as I tucked the blanket around her shoulders. "Being with you feels like... like..." "Like home?" I asked. "Yes! Like home. This is what home feels like, even more than my own home!" "Well, I like you, too!" I said, wrinkling my nose at her. "So again, what can I do?" "Choose me, Allie! You said you wanted to choose your next boyfriend. Choose me instead." I made a funny face at her. "You silly girl, Kat. Don't you know I chose you at Wycombe?" She inhaled loudly and bit her lip. "I'm so sorry for not seeing that." "It's okay," I said in a reassuring voice. "People have to find their own way, and the important thing is you found your way back to me. But I actually meant, in a very real sense, what can I do to help you through this right now?" "Right, of course," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "Well, I need a place to stay. My folks will be furious when I turn Richard down. His family knows Rishi Sunak." "You can stay here," I said with a broad smile. "And for the record, Rishi's a pompous twit." Katrina laughed again, then cupped my face in her hands, which I relished. "And you forgive me for being a pompous twit all these years, too?" she asked. "Of course! You're my BFF. And well, maybe a bit more." "Speaking of which," she said with a mischievous look. "I'm still not sure what flavor chapstick you're wearing." I grinned and batted my eyelashes at her flirtatiously. "Take as much time as you need to figure it out!" And then I leaned down and pressed her into the couch again. We made it to second base that night (by the American definition, not the British, who have somehow managed to screw up a perfectly good American sports analogy), but no further because, again, I didn't want to be the 'other woman' while she was still technically in a relationship with Richard. I was willing to cheat and steal second, but going to third base would have made me the other woman in my mind. But rest assured, it wouldn't be long before we advanced further. But that, along with my efforts to extricate her from the clutches of her posh, controlling family, is a story for another time. For now, on that cold December day in Glasgow, we reveled in the warmth and joy of each other's presence. Katrina had finally found her way back to me, and I welcomed her home with all my heart. THE END (for now) Originally published: April 26, 2026 Updated: May 3, 2026 (split to shorten, and added three images)