7
Nick visited two more times for kissing lessons, and those times he was far more instructive. He would pull away several times to give me a suggestion or let me know what I was doing well. While his comments interrupted the flow of the kiss, it was probably a good thing, because otherwise the kissing would get too—to borrow his word—heated. The interruptions allowed me to catch my breath and try to control my arousal.
It was a natural reaction to get hard, especially when kissing someone so good-looking. Nick’s lips were naturally pink, but after kissing, they’d get red, and his pupils would get bigger. Sometimes I’d play with his hair while making out, and afterwards, the brown locks would be dishevelled and tangled, the polar opposite of his usual put-together look.
I liked messing him up a bit. It made him seem more human.
After the last two kissing lessons, Nick would only linger behind for a snack before heading off to run an errand or do a shift. We talked a bit, and slowly, I learned a few more things about him. He had a casual job as a waiter at a Thai restaurant. He grew up in rural Victoria, like me, and knew his friend Tyler from high school.
Other than those tidbits, it was hard to get more information out of him. I’d hoped that we’d grow closer, but despite all our kissing, he was still aloof.
Friday night approached, and I prepared myself for a night in with Elena and Atticus, snacking on crackers and baked brie with honey and crushed pistachios, watching an episode of Poirot or playing a board game. We’d spent evenings like that since high school, and I knew others might’ve seen me as an annoying younger brother tagging along, but Elena and Atticus always made me feel welcome.
I checked the clock, wondering when they’d arrive at the apartment when my phone buzzed. It was a group chat full of friends from the science department. Apparently, a party was happening.
Soon, replies were flooding in with I’m down and yea def .
It looked like everyone was going. Everyone but—
Hayden, u in? A friend messaged.
Hayden: I don’t know, I was thinking about staying in.
Replies flooded in.
Nooo, join us
Don’t let us down
C ome on dude
Y ou know you want to.
Maybe I did want to. I might’ve just been succumbing to peer pressure, but I hadn’t been to a party since the one at the start of semester, where I’d met Nick. A couple of beers, good music, and chatting with friends did sound fun, and Elena and Atticus wouldn’t mind me ditching. In fact, Elena would probably encourage it, something about forcing me to socialise.
I typed back a response.
Hayden: Alright.
Five hours and several G and Ts later, I was in the corner of a nightclub with a pretty girl in my lap. Her name was Gemma. Or was it Jade? Ruby? Something gemstone-related.
Music vibrated through the walls so loud it pounded in my skull. My heart wasn’t racing, though—I was surprisingly calm. Maybe it was the fact I’d sweated out all my usual anxieties on the dance floor. Somehow, Gemstone Girl and I started dancing together, and soon, our hands were tangled as we moved around, strobe lights flickering through the dark room, air sharp with the smell of vodka. She wore a mesh and lace blue dress that reminded me of mermaids, and her eyes were decorated with turquoise rhinestones that glittered when they caught the light.
“You’re so tall,” she said, widening her eyes for emphasis.
“I’m not tall,” I said, “you’re just short.”
She giggled and looked up at me through midnight blue lashes. Then we were kissing. For a second, my brain stopped. Then I wondered whether my tongue tasted horribly of gin. Then I thought: I’m kissing someone.
Frantically, I tried to remember everything Nick had taught me. I placed one hand on her waist and felt her body heat emanating through the mesh. She smelled like flowery perfume and hairspray. Should I play with her hair?
I was spending too much time thinking about Nick’s advice instead of kissing Gemstone Girl. In fact, I still had my eyes open, staring at her like a creep. So, I squeezed my eyes shut and let my instincts take over. I let the practise and the lessons make the decisions for me, and if I ignored the pounding music and the taste of lip gloss, it was just like kissing Nick.
Suddenly, she pulled away and said something, looking puzzled.
“Huh?” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. It was shiny with pink gloss.
“Why are you so aggressive?” she asked.
“Oh, I… I didn’t realise I was.” My cheeks burned. Despite all my practise, I was still awful. Now Gemstone Girl knew it too. I might’ve run away if she wasn’t sitting on me.
“You were practically biting my lips off,” she said.
Really? Nick had never mentioned that—in fact, he seemed to encourage it, making stifled little noises when I kissed him hard. But maybe Gemstone’s lips were more sensitive.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to.”
She probably wasn’t trying to be critical, but I felt mega-judged anyway. Under her shimmery eyeshadow was the same expression Sophie had given me. I’d done a bad job. I was awful.
I forced a swallow. “I… I need to…” I started to rise, and Gemstone Girl slid off my lap.
“What—”
“Sorry, I need to go,” I said in a rush and dashed out of there.
I pushed through the crowd, through the front door, and past the bouncer. On the street, a few people vaped and smoked cigarettes or sat on the sidewalk with their feet in the gutter. I bet none of them had ever been told they were an awful kisser.
I fished out my phone and dialled Nick’s number. While it rang, I paced, and slowly, the heat dissipated from my cheeks. I suddenly realised how cold I was, standing outside without a jacket, the hair on my arms standing up on end.
My phone rang and rang and rang, and just when I thought it would go to voicemail—
“Hayden?” Nick said.
There was a shuffle in the background and a woman’s voice complaining.
“Is this a bad time?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s a bad ti—”
“No, I can talk,” Nick said, interrupting his lady friend.
For a few seconds, they argued in hushed tones before a door squeaked open and closed. When Nick next spoke, there was no background noise. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Was I interrupting something?” I asked. Of course, Nick was with someone. It was late on a Friday night, after all.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure? I can call back.”
“I’m sure,” Nick said. “What is it? Has something happened?”
I sighed and leaned against the outside wall of the club, the bricks cold through my shirt. “I’m at a club right now.”
“And?” A pause. “Are you drunk?”
“No. Maybe a little. That’s not the point. I was dancing with this girl, and then we kissed.”
“I see,” he said after a moment. I couldn’t tell whether he sounded unimpressed or… something else.
“We did so much practise, so I thought I was a good kisser.”
“You are a good kisser,” Nick said.
“She said I was aggressive.”
Nick didn’t say anything, and my stomach churned.
“I’m so embarrassed. I wasn’t trying to be—I just kissed her the same way I kissed you, but she said it was like I was trying to bite her lips off.”
“Calm down,” Nick said, not unkindly. “You sound like you’re panicking.”
“I’m not panicking,” I protested. “I’m just—I just can’t believe I’m still shit. I hate being terrible at this stuff. It makes me feel—” I cut myself off.
Like the person I used to be. Never-been-kissed. Inexperienced. Like there was something wrong with me.
All I wanted was to be normal. No, better than that. I wanted to be good at all the things I was supposed to be good at, because that’d mean people would want me. They’d want to be around me. They’d want to stay with me.
“You’re not shit,” Nick said. “Listen, not everyone is going to vibe with how you kiss—”
“You were supposed to teach me to be a good kisser,” I interrupted.
“There’s no universal agreement on what counts as ‘good’ kissing,” he said. “ I think you’re a good kisser, and I think most people would agree with me, but that girl clearly has her own preferences.”
“She said I was practically biting her lips off,” I repeated, in case he’d forgotten.
“Yes, well, you are a bit rough—”
“ Nick ,” I whined.
“But in a good way,” he explained. “You make your partner feel wanted, like you can’t help yourself. It’s my fault. I assumed the way you grab people—”
“The way I grab people?” I interrupted. “You make me sound like some sort of groper. A handsy, gross, predatory molester.”
“Calm down,” Nick said, this time with a lot less patience. “‘Grab’ isn’t the right word. It’s more like… you touch people desperately. You’ve never hurt me. Then again, I’m probably more tolerant to roughness compared to the average female.”
I used my free hand to scrub my face. “You’re not making me feel better.”
“I promise you, it’s hot. You just need to find someone who’s compatible with the way you do things.”
“Right,” I said. I didn’t feel like kissing anyone in the near future, in case I hurt them. If I had to kiss someone, I’d keep my hands to myself. I’d be more passive, let them take the lead.
Now that I thought about it, Nick was a passive kisser. He stayed relatively still while I pushed my tongue through his parted lips and let my hands roam across his flat stomach. But maybe he was just that way when he was teaching me.
He was probably different with women. Like that girl waiting for him in the other room. Had they been about to have sex?
The thought made my gut twist.
“One girl not vibing with the way you kiss isn’t the end of the world,” Nick said.
I could tell he was trying to make me feel better, and I decided to stop being so negative. “You’re right. Besides, it’s not like I’m that disappointed.”
“You sounded pretty disappointed.”
“Well…” I started. “Kissing her was fine and all, but I’d rather kiss you.”
Nick was quiet for so long that I thought the line had cut out. Then:
“Don’t say shit like that.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He made a huffing noise. If I could see him, I bet he’d be rubbing his nose or pushing a hand through his hair. “No, it’s…”
A second passed, then another, and I thought of the girl waiting for him. “Sorry for interrupting,” I said. “I’ll let you go now.”
There was a pause. “Alright. Later, Hayden.”
“Bye.”
Nick and I didn’t see each other for over a week. He said that he was busy, and to be fair, I was busy too. August had turned into September, and with it, assignments and due dates had begun to pile up.
Eventually, Nick texted me to say he was free Wednesday afternoon. I told him that worked and once again let Elena know that I’d need the apartment to myself. In true Elena fashion, she didn’t question it, just said she’d be staying at the library until midnight anyway to finish a research essay.
When Nick showed up at my door, he seemed both the same and different. He still looked gorgeous, which was a shock. I assumed that it was human nature to eventually get used to someone’s good looks: the way the effect of a celebrity’s beauty faded each time you saw them. But every time I saw Nick, it was like the first time. I wondered whether I’d ever grow immune to it.
However, instead of his usual too-cool-for-this demeanour, there was an intensity to his eyes, a determined set of his shoulders.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said as he stepped into my apartment, “we’ve been taking too long.”
“We have?” I asked, walking over to the kitchen and making him a glass of ice-cold water.
He took it. “We’ve been doing this for a month now. At this pace, it’ll take us a whole year to get to actual sex. I don’t have time for that.”
Right. This was, first and foremost, an obligation/burden for him. Of course, he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
Well, I couldn’t argue with that. I liked efficiency as much as the next person.
“Alright,” I said, “I’m happy to move on.”
Sure, our lessons were mostly kissing, but we’d done a bunch of touching too. I wasn’t sure what we’d do next, though.
Nick nodded, finished his glass of water in a few gulps, and then headed to my bedroom.
“I’ll be blunt then,” he said after I closed the door behind us. “How long do you last?”