Megan Hart - The Space Between Us

I thought the future Mrs. Whoever-the-fuck-she-was would push Meredith away. I think all of us watching did. But she must have been too drunk, too horny or simply too surprised, for all she did was tip her head back and let Meredith mouth her neck.

And then Meredith kissed her.

Full-on, openmouthed, tongues twisting together like snakes. Meredith’s hands slid up the other woman’s front to cup her breasts through her pink and sparkly T-shirt. They weren’t dancing, really, just grinding and tongue-fucking each other’s mouths. Her girlfriends looked on, agape.

The men surrounding us exploded into a frenzy of catcalls, whistles and whoops.

Meredith looked at me, and though her lips were still fused to that hapless bachelorette, I saw the curve of a smile. She broke the kiss abruptly, her lips still wet from it. The future bride stumbled back, looking stunned, her mouth slack, eyes glazed. Her nipples were hard, too, poking at the front of her shirt. Her friends surrounded her in the next minute, closing her in, reaching to support her because it looked as if she might just keel over.

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