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Linger

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Certain things are expected when you win an award.

The look of shock usually comes first, followed closely by the kisses. Of course, your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend or other Significant Other who is with you that evening gets the first kiss. Always on the lips, always either passionate or rushed, depending on how many other people you have to kiss.

Cast and crew are next, pecks on the cheek, quick because the music is playing and the stage is waiting.

Nobody seems to take into account the people who fit more than one group. People with loose, flame hair and sparkling emerald eyes. She's not my Significant Other, exactly -- my husband has that title -- although she is definitely a significant part of my life. She's much more than just another cast mate.

I can never decide how to kiss her. I know how I want to -- like I kiss her when we're alone, passion and secrets and unspoken love. But I can't, because we're not alone, there's people and cameras and her fiance. My husband, as well, but he already knows how I kiss her.

All I can do is rush over to her -- anxious, I want to touch her -- and press my lips to her cheek, innocent and friendly.

And linger.