Work Text:
“He’s so hot, and I bet he’s such a good kisser.”
El wasn’t sure how to respond. Thinking of boys as “hot” was still new territory. It wasn’t something that came naturally; if you asked her to describe Mike, she wouldn’t default to hot. He had a nice face, and a smile that made her smile too, and anyway it wasn’t really his appearance that made her like having him as a boyfriend. It was the way she felt when she was with him—like a real girl, a real person, who was social and fun and… she didn’t know how to describe it. He made her feel like someone wanted her.
Max looked from Ralph Macchio’s glossy printed face up to El’s. Suddenly, an odd, conspiratorial look came across her face. She hauled herself up and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing El.
“Hey, uh… is Mike a good kisser?” she said, lowering her voice as if worried someone might overhear. El sat back, uncertain how to respond. Kissing Mike was nice. It felt good—that had to mean he was good at it, didn’t it? If he was bad at it, it wouldn’t feel nice. But, she reasoned, maybe it could feel better and she just didn’t know it.
“I don’t know…” She grimaced. “He’s my first boyfriend.” Max shrugged in concession. Then she looked down at her hands for a moment.
“How ‘bout… compared to me?” she said, looking back up.
“To you?” El repeated. “But I haven’t kissed you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Max said. “What I’m saying is you could try it.”
El thought for a moment. “Against the rules?”
“What rules?” Max said with a little laugh.
“Because… I’m a girl.”
Max shook her head, still laughing. “That’s not a rule.” El nodded, mostly convinced. Max spoke with the confidence of someone who understood this kind of thing. She turned it over in her mind.
“So, like girlfriends,” she said, almost to herself.
“No no no, not like—no. Friends, same as always.”
“Friends.” El nodded again, smiling at the reminder that Max was her friend. “So. Compared to you?”
“Yeah.” Max grinned, with what looked like a touch of self-consciousness. She scooted forward so her knees were touching El’s. Then her hand was touching El’s cheek, her palm warm and soft, smaller than Mike’s. She was pretty. Pretty in a different way than Nancy, who was always her basis of comparison; Nancy’s pretty was dainty, sweet and put-together, while Max was freckled and warm and wild, with her red hair falling all around her face. El knew she must be looking at her like a complete stranger, but she wasn’t used to looking at anyone but Mike this close. Certainly not girls. Pretty, smiling, freckly girls.
Max’s fingers pulled her forward, feather-light. El leaned forward and pressed her lips against Max’s—perhaps, she realized as it was happening, a little too hard.
Max didn’t seem to mind, though. She matched El’s energy and leaned into her, angling her head and moving her lips like kissing was as easy as breathing. She must have kissed boys—people—before, even before Lucas. She certainly had to be more experienced than Mike; El could feel how sure Max was of what she was doing, much more than she had with him. And her lips were soft and warm and constant, leaving the faint artificial-citrus taste of her lip balm with every touch.
When Max sat back after what could have been five minutes or scarcely 30 seconds, El nearly forgot to stop kissing her. Max’s cheeks and lips both looked pinker than they had been before, and as she studied Max’s face she could feel her own face growing hot. It didn’t bother her—she just felt light and warm and slightly dazed.
“So,” Max said, grinning again. “Better than Mike, or worse?”
“Better,” El blurted without hesitating to think. As if startled by her own response, she abruptly looked away.
“You know… we don’t have to stop,” Max said. “I mean, if it’s better than Mike.”
“It’s okay?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” she giggled. “It’s fun. And it’s just kissing.” El smiled, head still ducked. Max nudged her chin up with one hand. “Do you… want to?”
El met her eyes—it felt weird like it always felt weird to make eye contact, but she wanted Max to know she was telling the truth. “Yes.”