Free The Kiss by Lucy Courtenay

he’ll forgive me and come back to me and we’ll be the most famous lovers in the universe just like Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor!’
    She clearly hasn’t had enough sleep.
    ‘No,’ I bleat.
    ‘Delilah, you were meant to bring the Kiss to me like this so that my life stops being awful,’ she says feverishly. ‘When Jem kisses me and I then kiss Sam, Sam will actually feel the moon inside him . Only an idiot could fail to fix a love affair when they’ve got Aphrodite on their side. OMG, the sex!’ Her cheeks brighten even more, and she clutches herself a bit. ‘When we finally have sex, it will be Greek-god awesome! I really, really need new knickers.’
    She looks so sweet and excited – so like the Tabby of old – that I have to smile. This is mad, but anything
is better than her previous soggy-cotton-ball-of-misery approach.
    ‘Oh,’ she says suddenly as she fixes on me. ‘Will you be OK if I kiss Jem again? I promise I’ll only do it once. Once is all I need.’
    ‘Of course I’ll be OK!’ I protest, laughing loudly. ‘Are you crazy? I don’t like him! Don’t you know me at all? We only had one kiss, one moment of insanity, and I’m not going there again. N-O-T.’ I make vague ‘As if, do I look mad to you?’ gestures with my hand.
    ‘Brilliant!’ she says happily. ‘So I’ll come and visit you later at the Gaslight. My technique at the college party worked fine so I’ll do the same thing again. I—’
    ‘Tabitha!’ her mum calls up the stairs. ‘Have you packed yet? We’re leaving in half an hour.’
    My best friend gasps in horror. ‘Oh poop, we’re going to lunch with my aunt in Southampton and staying the night – I totally forgot. Tomorrow? Monday?’
    I wrench myself out of the peculiar bog of discomfort that is suddenly clogging me up. Come on Delilah , I think. Tabby needs you to fix this . And it comes to me in a marvellous haze of sequins and jazz hands. The vision I am having almost obscures Mum in her Chicago outfit. Not quite, but almost.
    ‘Your Auntie Delilah has the perfect solution,’ I announce. ‘When does she not? There’s an am-dram thing auditioning at the Gaslight next week. Calls itself Musical in a Month. Loads of college students go in for it. You’re into musical theatre, you’d love it. Lots of opportunities to put your Aphrodite theory into action. When it all turns out to be a load of rubbish – and it will, trust me – it could work as your “keeping busy” challenge. The one we said you needed in order to let Sam go. And we can see each other while I’m working. Is that win-win or what?’
    ‘You’re my guardian angel,’ says Tabby in bliss. ‘Phone me later with details. And help me find clean socks. Oh, and my suitcase. Auntie Nora’s doing roast pork for lunch and if we’re late the crackling will be soggy.’
    At the Gaslight that night, I locate a poster advertising Musical in a Month. WHAT AN ADO! it says. AUDITIONS TUESDAY 7PM! There’s no website, no email address, no Twitter tag, nothing anchoring it to the real world at all. Tab is going to love it. I tap her a message. My phone interprets my intentions in its own special way.
    Tues 7pm auction
    What a dodo Gaslight xx
    Auction for dodos? What? xxxx
    Suction What An Ado
    Do you mean audition?? xxxx
    Stupid auto cat rectal
    CALL ME 2MORON
    omggggg, dead from laughing xxxx
    ‘Are you into that stuff?’ Jem says behind me.
    I feel my ears going scarlet. Will they always do that now, every time I see him? Last night’s uncomfortable conversation looms in my memory as I shove my phone in my pocket. ‘It’s for a friend. The one you . . . you know.’
    For a wild moment I wonder if he can read Tabby’s insane plan through my guilty eyes. But he merely nods and heads for the kitchen.
    ‘Hey,’ I call after him, unable to stop myself from asking. ‘You know the moon thing you said last night?’
    He stops and scratches his head. His black hair somehow gets cooler.