Her lips are icy against mine. I stand frozen in the embrace. Tara holds my face gently as she pushes her lips harder onto mine, and the faint taste of scotch on her breathe leaps onto mine. I push her back a little, moving my head down as I take a step back. I wipe my lips, her blood red lipstick now stained on my hand.
"Tara, I don't want this." I quickly say. I had forgotten how close we once were, but am constantly reminded of her selfish decisions. I look up, expecting to see her filled with rage. The typical way a siren would react, instead she seemed understanding. Maybe a little sad. Tara shakes her head a little, turning on her heel and grabbing her scotch. Her grip around the glass makes it apparent that my initial thought of an angry siren was correct. Tara downs the glass of
