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When asked about her first kiss, Lucy never quite knew how to answer. Did they want to know the first time someone kissed her, or the first time she kissed back? The first kiss that mattered or just the one that happened first?
Of course, every answer led to the same person. But it had taken so many tries for them to get it right.
This one’s her favourite.
No agent was supposed to walk home alone after a case. Jacobs called it the buddy system, the law called it workplace safety precautions (of which they had so few, making parents reluctant to ignore even one), and Lucy’s teammates called it a good excuse for a party.
If they found themselves back at their lockers before three o’clock in the morning, the agents would nod to each other and silently file out of the agency’s offices before moving as one to Alfie-Joe’s home.
Rumour had it they’d tried meeting at the Bell’s once, since it was much closer to town, but that same proximity meant they were constantly aware of Jacobs’ home just down the road. It was hard to unwind when you could practically still smell his beer breath carried on the breeze.
Alfie-Joe’s home was different. On the outskirts of town, they had more privacy and more space. His father, the only other inhabitant of the old cottage, was an ex-agent himself and sympathetic to their need for a good time. On nights when his son came home with a flock of antsy agents in tow, he’d only smile indulgently and slope upstairs, earplugs in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
The night was not particularly wild. Party or no, they were still sleep-deprived teens. But the hazy hours of card games, snacking, and low-energy mischief kept Lucy sane in a way that the uneasy quiet of her own bed at home could not.
Somehow, in the middle of a highly competitive Euchre match, Lucy ended up with a lap full of Norrie.
“Fancy meeting you here, Carlyle.”
Lucy hummed, stealing the rest of the pick-up line from the tip of Norrie’s tongue. “Fancy that. Come here often?”
“Oh shove off.” Then she revealed her true purpose–a sneak peek at Lucy’s hand. “Oi, is that an Ace of Hearts? Why haven’t you called trump?”
Julie, her partner this round, groaned. Steph and Paul threw their own cards down in defeat, and Norrie rolled away from her, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Tea break! We’ll get it.”
Norrie pulled her up by the elbow and dragged her along to the kitchen.
“I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”
Lucy did. Without sight, the hum of the refrigerator seemed twice as loud. Lucy could smell the dust collecting behind Alfie-Joe’s biscuit tin, the cheese sandwiches packed and waiting to be taken to work for lunch on the counter. But most of all, she could sense Norrie. Her warmth, the heady spice carried on her breath from the cinnamon biscuits she always ate, and the scent of a sour ectoplasm-burn lingering in her hair from when she ducked a second too late earlier that night.
Norrie pressed two pieces of cardstock into her hand. Opening her eyes, Lucy could barely believe what she saw.
Two tickets. A one way trip to King’s Cross Station.
“You bought them already?” she asked.
“The second I had enough saved up. I’d rather my parents find these lying around than a wad of banknotes.” They grinned at each other. Lucy rested the pair of tickets against her lips, the scent of paper and ink mingling with everything else. “I wanted to be ready for your certification exam next week.”
Norrie leaned in close. “Happy birthday, Carlyle.”
It wasn’t their first kiss by most standards. But it was the first one that held the promise of more. It was the first kiss that had ever felt like a beginning. She let the tickets fall out of her hand in favour of reaching for Norrie’s cheek, her neck, feeling strands of soft red hair stream through her fingers.
And when it was over, Norrie gently retrieved the tickets from where they’d landed on the floor. Sliding an arm around her waist, she tucked them into the back pocket of Lucy's jeans. Leaving her hand resting on top of them, the girls walked out of the kitchen together just in time to see Julie lose quite soundly at Old Maid.