He kisses me in the canteen, his tongue luminous and wet. The buzz of afternoon cicadas and fluorescent lights ringing in my ears. I push him away.

“What are you doing?â€? I splutter.

“Stop worrying,â€? he says, grinning. “We just had to fix the lights, that’s all.â€?

I can’t stop laughing. It’s been so long since I’ve kissed someone the presence of a wet, excited thing in my mouth is absurd. It takes me a few minutes to get used to his technique, then we fall into a rhythm. A blowfly of light hovers over his watch face. Gold bars of light trap us. He kisses me so hard my mouth begins to bleed. A parrot of light on my shoulder. We walk hand in hand to his car and continue kissing. Finally, he gets into the car and honks as he drives by, swallowed by the buttocks of traffic.

I lick away his kiss, pink and squeaky clean.