Chapter Eleven September 1 #4
“Yeah.” John pulls back, looking at me now. He straightens his back like he’s ready to go on a mission to Mars or something. “Step off the curb.”
“Okay.” I stand across from him, waiting for his next instruction. It’s like the heavy fog between us has lifted and we can see the road ahead.
“We’re going to have to stand closer. I’ll take a step forward, then you take a step forward,” he says.
I nod, following his cues. We stop once my forehead presses against the tip of his nose.
“What do you do with your hands?” I ask, holding them up to my chest.
“Sometimes you hold the other person’s hands.
Or the guy will cup the girl’s face. Girls usually put their arms around me.
” A nervous laugh escapes his lips. The lips I am quite literally dying to feel on mine.
“I don’t know. I don’t usually think about what my hands are doing, especially during a first kiss.
People are still feeling each other out, you know? ”
“Okay, well, maybe you can do the holding my face bit. That sounds kind of romantic.”
“Sure.” His cheeks turn crimson as I watch him fight another smile. “I’ll just put this hand on the side of your face and my other one around your waist. Bridge the gap a bit more.”
At his request, I take another step, standing as close as I possibly can without pressing myself up against him. His pinky grazes the exposed skin at my waist. “You smell really good,” he says. “Is it vanilla?”
“No. Body butter. Georgie’s always telling me to use it on my dry knees.” Shut up, shut up, shut up!
“I like it.” He leans in closer, tilting his head down, then stops himself. Talk about being on the brink of combustion. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can stop.”
“John,” I say, almost sternly. “Please stop talking and kiss me.”
He laughs nervously as he slowly strokes my jawline with his thumb.
“That feels nice,” I say. Nice is an understatement. I might actually burst.
He moves his lips down to mine and places a gentle kiss on them.
The taste of his minty toothpaste lingers.
He pulls away slightly and kisses my bottom lip, then the top.
My hands grip him tighter, and he leans in even closer, surprising me by pressing his lower half against mine.
I part my lips, wanting the kiss to be faster, harder.
John is probably trying to be respectful, knowing this is my first, so I slip my tongue into his mouth unabashedly.
In response, John rests the tips of his fingers on my bare lower back.
I bring my hand up and run my fingers through his beautiful hair.
The hair I’ve seen him nervously run his fingers through what feels like a million times, killing me slowly with each pass.
We could be anywhere. My locker. John’s garage. The street outside Theo’s house. It doesn’t matter. It never matters as long as I’m with him. And he’s with me. John feels like coming home, and inside that home there’s a secret room to which only we hold the key.
He stops kissing me first, and I can’t help but look up at him in complete awe. He’s so beautiful. That kiss was everything I wanted, wished for, dreamed of, and more.
It’s in the surprises where life really happens, I think. Not the things we plan for. Or rehearse.
Perfect moments do exist.
But then John pulls away and sits on the curb. He’s crouched, eyes to the asphalt. Distant.
“Was it that bad?” I ask, sitting next to him like a deflated balloon.
He looks at me in bewilderment. “No. It was amazing.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Something.”
His eyes won’t meet mine, and before I can let myself get upset at the idea of him already being bored with me, I see it.
I bite the inside of my cheeks to fight back a grin and remain seated next to him, not saying a word.
But my entire body is on high alert. Sensory overload.
I want to touch him again. Hold his hand.
Kiss his face. Here he is, sitting right next to me, after months of silence, and there’s still a wall.
Even after the truth of our words and the truth of that kiss, it’s still there.
“Don’t worry,” I say, trying my best to play it cool. “I don’t expect you to be my boyfriend or anything just because we kissed.”
He turns to me, studying my face. Enigma.
My voice catches as I force the rest of the words out. Half truths. “I would like to be your friend again though. Or at least try. Look,” I say, pulling my phone out. “I’ll start by unblocking your number.”
He laughs before pressing his shoulder to mine. “I don’t kiss my friends like that, Lennon.”
I look at him, at his lips that were on mine only a couple of minutes earlier.
I’ve always wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss John.
And now I do. I read once that a crush is just a lack of information.
Unfortunately, for me, that isn’t true. The more I know about John, the more I want to know.
“We’ve always been a little atypical,” I say. “And I’m okay with that.”
He smiles. “I guess I can learn to be okay with that too.”
So almost perfect, it hurts.