First Kiss

The first time she kissed me, I knew she had a boyfriend. I’d spent the day washing dishes with him at the cafe where we both worked after all, while she waited over a cup of coffee for the shift to be over. She turned up at my house that evening though; we cooked dinner and ate, just like we had a thousand times before. When we went outside for a walk, I stopped to lock the door, and then ran to catch her up, tucking my arm into hers, as though that too was something we’d done a thousand times before. She didn’t seem to mind though and the rest of the evening was like a distillation of all the little flirty moments and unspoken fantasies and accidental touches of the whole long lazy summer. We walked slowly, still linked together, and when I unlocked my door and held it open for her, my eyes lingered on her chapped lips, smiling. I remember thinking very clearly that it was a pity I could never kiss them and wondering why I wasn’t more surprised that I wanted to.

She lay in the crook of my arm, the tips of my fingers just barely brushing her cheek. We’d been lying like that for hours, pressed close, silent in the dark, tracing each other’s faces. The outer shell of the ear drawing fingers down to the tender taut skin of the throat, down further, the ridge of the collarbone, no, stop, too far. A curving eyebrow curling into the soft straight planes of cheekbones, the narrow sweep of the nose, warm air rushing over fingers, close, so close to her parted lips, no, stopstopstop, too far. Sudden firm jawbone, rising as her head tilts back, curving again at the chin, and this time I can’t help it, my fingers touch the fullness of her lips, and the whole world pauses while they open under me. Somehow we’ve been slowly moving, tiny shifts in position, until by now we’re lying perfectly aligned, my lips bare centimetres from hers, breathing the same air. I am petrified, knowing what has to come next, but not able to believe it, not able to move, to breathe. She finally leaned that last infinitesimal distance forward and then we didn’t stop kissing until it was light enough to see.


~ by mortarandpestle on April 12, 2008.

4 Responses to “First Kiss”

  1. that just goes along with my belief that there is nothing better than a great first kiss

  2. ah, first kisses. people really should take more time with these things. the best first kiss i ever had was with a girl i thought was straight. that dance, the leaning, the moving closer, the feeling the air between your hands wanting to connect them, to touch, the electricity is so thick.

    i love the last line of this entry. absolutely beautiful.

  3. this is very sweet! captures that tense wanting/waiting so nicely.

  4. I like the “no stopstopstop, too far.” In the beginning of a relationship, it is hard to know when you will reach that point. It is easy to be tentative and afraid of going too far in the beginning. Plus it is almost like the narrator is not only talking about the kiss but about the writing oabout the kiss as well.

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