My eyes fluttered closed and, as weak and helpless and, yes, infuriating it sounds, I forgot what I was saying and simply let him kiss me.
And it was nice.
And it felt good.
And when he stopped kissing me and tried to talk I didn’t let him, I pressed my mouth to his again before he could get anything out.
After a bit we separated, and Jake smiled, then laughed.
My cheeks turned bright red and I looked down.
He was laughing at me. Jake was laughing at me. Was I really that bad of a kisser? Ok, I was out of practice, yes, but was I really that bad?
Of course I could count the people that I kissed on one hand.
Max, June, my mom, my dad, Jake.
And none of those really counted, because June was my dog, my mom was my mom, my dad was my dad, Max was, well, Max.
Except Jake, he counted. Though maybe not, considering he was now laughing at me.
I turned away from him, trying not to cry.
The first time I’d really ever kissed someone, and he was laughing at me.