No Kissing!

You know that moment when you get all excited because two characters are about to kiss? Their breath gets heavier, their stomachs are in knots, they’re dizzy with excitement. And then nothing. Maybe something like the picture below happens...

It’s called the “No kiss” or “Almost Kiss.” And, its got the reader smacking their heads against the book in disappointment. If done right, the reader is begging for them to kiss one another when the moment arrives. Frankie at Frankie Writes has deemed today the official No-Kiss Blogfest. The rules are you can blog about your WIP, one you just wrote for the Blogfest, one from a book, movie clip, or t.v. show.I’ve decided to partake in it and post a scene from a current WIP that’s only 18,000 words.

“Give up the mission,” Booth said quietly.

“No, I’m getting it done.”

“I don’t think anyone can do it. It’s too dangerous. For Christ’s sake, he killed your parents.” He paused, and I knew he was thinking about his own parents. Like mine, they’d died. “He’s killed a lot of people, Sadie.”

Once again, the fear of being sickeningly inadequate for this job reared its head. But somehow Booth thinking that, too, was enough to make me go forward. “We have six days. This could still work,” I croaked.

“I hope so. For all for our sake’s.” He shook his head, looking out the car window at the darkness. “You should go back inside,” he surprised me by saying. The words themselves barely reached me, it was the impact of them that hummed through the air.

“Don’t you want details about last night?” I cracked a window, suddenly needing to breathe.

His eyes flicked to me after a few moments of silence. “No. Just be careful tonight.” The look in his eyes, like I’d disappointed him somehow, reminded me of how I’d wronged everyone I cared about. It reminded me of what I had to do to make everything right again.

“There’s a lot at stake,” he went on. Booth always seemed so inflexible, so humorless. Tonight was no different. “We need that information in order to--”

“I don’t need a repeat of last night’s beware speech. You’re not my dad.”

He gave me a slight smile. The first I’d seen in weeks. Then, in a move so fast I didn’t see, Booth was across the seat, holding me against him, hard. I gasped in surprise as his mouth slanted down--Oh god, he was going to kiss me. Every nerve ending tingled in anticipation, and I was about to close my eyes, to meet his lips with the same hunger and urgency I saw in his eyes, when his chin jerked upward.

He kissed my forehead, barely breathing the words, “You're right. I’m not your dad.”

At a loss for words, I stumbled out of the car. I was shaking up the porch steps, and my arms felt empty because he wasn't in them.