The First Kiss

“Weird request,” she says. “But now would be the time to kiss me. If that’s what you want to do,” she adds hesitantly after a pause. He laughs, smiles and they kiss. Tender and slow, they really just met. They both know what they are doing. They match. In his mind he recollects his past first kisses and how he mishandled them in a hurry to get nowhere. On her mind is the enjoyment of the moment. She weirdly likes the prickliness of his baby mustache. Past the initial contact she thinks whether she forced herself on him, thinks whether that’s what he wanted, whether she’s what he wanted, whether he’s what she wants. As the lips stop touching and they both retreat he utters his usual nonsense: “How’d that work out for you.“ Meant well, still stupid, it puts them both into an overthinking overdrive. They hold an awkward forward stare for a minute before she once more is courageous and shares what’s on her mind. Freed they kiss again. Second time feels even better. There’s attraction. There’s heart. He keeps his mouth shut this time around. The two new lovers spur the energy of the night.