Kath exhaled in a startled burst.
“I have to go home,” Lily insisted, trying to pull away, but Kath wouldn’t let her go.
“Wait,” Kath said. “Please.” She glanced around nervously. The steep street was deserted, but the lights and noises of the city seemed to rise up in warning: a car engine rumbled and streetlights flickered and down the block, a lamp burned in a bay window.
Kath pulled Lily toward the edge of the sidewalk and into the shadow of a building. There was a narrow opening there, an alleyway, and Kath tugged her inside, past the reach of light from the main street. The buildings on either side shot up several stories toward the night sky, their windows all black. All sound seemed to be swallowed up here, leaving the two of them in a velvety, dark quiet.
“I wasn’t sure you felt that way,” Kath said, and came closer to Lily. “I mean, I hoped.”
Lily’s heart raced at that word and what it implied. “Really?” Her embarrassment at her own obliviousness was abruptly replaced by astonishment. It made her reel—the speed of this, the way her feelings rushed in, pushing one emotion out and shoving in another. “I thought—I thought you were just being nice to me, I mean, you can’t possibly—I’m so stupid! Don’t you want someone like—like Rhonda?”
“Rhonda?” Kath sounded dumbfounded. “No, why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. Because at least she knows things. I don’t—I don’t understand the way this works.”
Kath let out another breath, a hint of laughter. “I don’t either. I just know—”
She didn’t finish her sentence, but she took another step toward Lily, closing the space between them. Lily could feel the warmth of Kath’s body radiating off her, could smell the traces of cigarette smoke and beer on her breath, along with a new fragrance she didn’t recognize, something clean and bright. It made Lily’s skin tingle.
“Lily,” Kath said softly.
“Don’t say anything,” Lily whispered. She felt as if speaking would ruin everything—then they’d have to put a name to this feeling between them, this rapidly growing heat and longing that made the sliver of air between their bodies charged with electricity. She could swear she felt the air humming.
She had never noticed before that she and Kath were the same height. If she leaned forward just a little bit, her nose would graze Kath’s, and then they were touching noses gently, practically nuzzling each other, and it was funny and startling, and Lily giggled nervously while Kath let go of her hand and, deliberately, touched Lily’s waist. The feel of Kath’s hands sliding around her body silenced her laughter. She stopped breathing, and Kath’s mouth touched hers, feeling its way in the dark. Her lips were cool and dry at first, but quickly, so quickly, they bloomed into warmth and softness. Her body was close against hers, the shape of her like a shock, her breasts and her hips and her hip bones against her, her hands pulling her closer, closer.
Lily had not known, had never imagined, how a first kiss could turn so swiftly into a second, and a third, and then a continual opening and pressing and touching, the tip of her tongue against Kath’s, the warmth of her mouth and the way that warmth reached all the way through her body and raised an indescribable ache between her legs. She had to push herself closer to Kath; that was the only thought in her mind. She put her hands on Kath and slid them beneath her jacket and clutched her back, and there was an awkward fumbling as they moved in the dark alleyway together, seeking something to press against, until the wall of the building was at Lily’s back and she could pull Kath into her.
She didn’t know how long they kissed—not long enough—but at one point Kath drew back to take a breath, and Lily opened her eyes and saw to her right the dim glow of the street beyond their dark alley. She realized with a start what she was doing and where she was doing it and whom she was doing it with, and she knew she should feel ashamed, but all she felt was the heaving of Kath’s chest against hers, and the tenderness of her lips where Kath had kissed her.
33
I don’t know why you’re bothering with an evening gown at all,” Lily said, flipping through an issue of Seventeen. “The competition only requires a cheongsam. When will you even have time to change?”
She, Shirley, and Flora were gathered around the table at the back of Flora’s father’s shop, waiting for Mary, who was late. They were supposed to go to Union Square to shop for Shirley’s dress for Miss Chinatown, and Lily did not want to go. She wished she was with Kath instead, and if that wasn’t possible, she’d rather shut herself in her bedroom alone, and remember. （The sensation of Kath’s mouth against hers, her hands on her waist.）