The First Kiss (KH version)
Each day this week I will post a 'remembrance' of someone I've kissed.
The first kiss.
'Cause who can forget that??
(NOTE: Sergei will be prominently featured on Valentines Day. He's my bestest and favoritest.)
The KH Version -- Summer, Rain, Night
I kissed him first.
I didn’t realize it was me, my body, doing the ‘lean-in’ and the ‘not-just-friends’ kiss.
It happened so fast.
But there I was, pulling back from him, my head hitting the headrest so hard it hurt, the buttons of my white summer blouse trembling against the cloth as I reclined, my heartbeat underneath a pitterpat of ‘whatthehell?’
His face sat flat for a moment, and then it broke and he grinned.
“Thanks”, he said.
The wipers beat at my windshield, pushing inky streetlight puddles, the rain pissing down in late July, hot like spit.
I couldn’t speak. My lips felt like beer-soaked sausages, some drunken lustful swelling, as I smiled back.
He finally broke the silence with, “I was wondering when you were gonna do that.”
My head echoed with ‘Say something!’
But there was nothing to say. I grinned. Too long.
“Well. Guess I’d better get inside.’ His car door opened and the overhead light turned us into six year-olds stealing candy bars from the corner store.
It felt naughty.
As he walked up the steps to his stale post-college apartment, I couldn’t help but stare at his legs. He walked like a cowboy, all bow-legged ruggedness. I wondered if he’d ever let me see them naked. If he’d start the second kiss. If, oh god, if, he could shoo his roommates away for one night so we could have the ‘scream-fest’ sex we’d giggled about not two hours ago at the party.
I didn’t know he would break my heart at the end of the summer.
I did know that, besides sex, there was nothing else I wanted from him.
And nothing more I wanted to talk about.
(Addendum: Today is Henry Rollins' birthday. Kisses to you, Hank, and a big ol' ass smack from Mona.)