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“Now that we’re dating, are you going to kiss me, or what?” invites Aelwyn, blowing a red bubble with the gum in her mouth.
Fabian licks his lips – a nervous tic – and wipes his sweaty palms on his sweatpants. This is it, his chance to get his kisses in. He gingerly leans in, but she fists the front of his tank top and yanks him closer. Their lips lock, her tongue darts into his mouth and playfully licks the insides of his mouth. It’s peppery-spicy-sweet, the flavor of her cinnamon gum, and it’s… underwhelming. What happened to that spark he felt at the party? The thrill of a dangerous woman? Getting his kisses in is supposed to be exciting, passionate, like fireworks, but this doesn't send a zing down his spine or excite him in any way. Has she changed? Has he? Or was the thrill of his first kiss merely a fluke?
The kiss breaks and she looks at him with dull eyes. There’s no excitement in them, and he can tell she had just as much fun with the kiss as he did.
No, this kiss was the fluke. He goes back in for a second kiss, this time his tongue invading her mouth and dancing with hers. It’ll be better, it’s got to be. This is what it’s all about, getting your kisses in; because if kissing isn’t fun, then what about sex? What about his whole future? He’s seventeen and horny, godsdammit!
This second kiss… it’s better; there’s a little more passion, but even then it falls flat and Fabian pulls away, disappointed.
Aelwyn gives a half-hearted smile. “I see we’ll have to practice.” She reaches out and gives his cheek a couple little pats. “I look forward to it.”
Yes, practice. That’s all he needs…