Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“Maybe we could…” I clear my throat. “Maybe we should kiss each other.”
When she doesn’t respond right away, I rush on. “Just to get it over with, I mean. It’s not a big deal. We don’t have to—”
“Okay.”
I look up sharply, connecting our stares in the quiet. “Okay.”
In a few steps, I erase the small space left between us, standing close enough to smell her minty gum.
“Can I do something gross?” she asks, a smile pinching her eyes at the corners.
“With your tongue?” I ask half-apprehensively, half-jokingly.
“Ez.” She laughs. “No. I mean…not yet.”
She reaches into her mouth, pulls out a blob of gum and sticks it to the wall right under a poem scribbled in red ink that begins “Roses are dead.”
“You r-r-ready?” she asks, her eyes are steady like she’s in command, but I know what Kimba’s actual confidence looks like, and she’s as nervous as I am, which somehow makes me feel calm. I reach for one of her hands and link our fingers and I stroke my thumb along hers.
“Can I do something weird?” I whisper.
“With your tongue?” she whispers back, her smile as bright as the fluorescent lights out in the hall.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Not yet.”
With my free hand, I reach up and swipe my thumb across her bottom lip, smearing her red lip gloss.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her mouth moving under my finger.
“Taking off this lipstick stuff.”
“Why?” She’s turned the volume of her voice down to secret.
“Because I like your lips the way they always are.”
Her smile dwindles into a straight line, and the laughter drains from her eyes. I trace her top lip with my index finger, swiping until the red tint of gloss is mostly gone. Even after there’s barely color left, I touch her mouth unnecessarily, so soft and pillowy. I should feel self-conscious or nervous or weird. It’s my first kiss, after all, but I don’t. It feels, instead, like I’m walking up to a moment that’s been waiting on me all my life. Since we were both born on the same day in different cities. Since Mrs. Allen plopped Kimba into the tub with me before we could even talk.
I lean forward and press my mouth to hers, tentative in case she pulls away. Holding my breath because even the effort of breathing might detract from this place between our lips that deserves all my concentration. We’re still for a second or two, my lips resting against hers, our eyes open.
“Aren’t we supposed to close our eyes?” she whispers, the words cool across my lips.
“Yeah. On the count of three, we’ll close.”
She nods.
“One,” I say, not looking away from her. “Two. Three.”
Her lashes, dark and long with mascara, fall, but I cheat because I don’t want to miss any of it.
Eyes still closed, she says, “Kayla said we’re supposed to use our tongues.”
I press my mouth to hers and slide my tongue across her bottom lip. Her eyes pop open.
“Did I do it wrong?” I ask quickly.
“I don’t know, but I liked it.”
She liked it.
I gently squeeze her fingers and lean in again, pressing our lips together. I don’t know if she means to do it, or if it’s a mistake, but her mouth opens and my tongue slips inside. Hesitantly, our tongues touch, stroke, and something sweet and sharp cuts down the center of my body. I wonder if she feels it, too. We both go still, looking into each other’s eyes for a few seconds.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I take her bottom lip between mine, and then she takes mine between hers, and I can taste her. Taste the red punch from the dance, taste her spearmint gum, taste her trust, which is the sweetest thing. And then I forget to think about it, forget to worry if I’m doing it right, or if I’ve messed up. Our heads bob and our mouths meld and we suck each other’s tongues, and it’s not weird at all. It’s sloppy and wet, but in the best way. A new-to-me hunger rumbles inside, not for food, but for her. Every time I taste her, suck her lips, lick inside her mouth, the hunger grows. I reach up and cup her face, needing to be deeper and wanting the whole world outside this bathroom to go away. Wanting to make our own little planet in the last stall of the girls’ bathroom and never stop kissing Kimba ever.
Mariah Carey’s “Vision of Love” floats in muted tones to our stall. Beyond these walls, back in the gym, they’re at the dance, but in this corner on our last night of middle school, we have our own theme. Our own rainbows and lights and music and magic. We hold each other’s breath and take each other’s hands, crossing our hearts and guarding our innocence. We are on the cusp of next, but tonight, we have right now, and it’s better than everything I’ve ever had and must be as good as anything to come.