Page 51 of Breakaway Goal

I tilt my head, lining up my lips to meet the arc that his own are tracing slowly through the air.

My eyes flutter closed, and I wait for his mouth to make contact with mine—I wait for my first kiss.

25

MADDIE

James’s lips press against mine, and the sparks dancing on my back evaporate. The tension curling through me unwinds. The flutter through my nerves dies, and the buzzing in my chest fizzles out.

His lips feel dull as they slant against mine, his hand feels inert on the side of my neck.

I kiss him back, wondering if maybe it takes a second to feel a kiss the way I should be feeling it. The way I’ve always imagined feeling it. But even as he angles the kiss deeper, nothing happens.

Disappointment slices into my chest and settles heavy in my stomach.

This doesn’t feel right.

There’s nothing wrong with what James is doing. His lips caress mine with a gentle firmness that indicates he has experience. He’s not insistently trying to coax his tongue into my mouth or running his hands all over my body.

And yet, I have to struggle against an overpowering instinct to recoil from his touch.

I can’t stop the feeling from throttling through me that what’s happening right now is a mistake.

Your first kiss wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The words thunder through me from somewhere in the back of my head.

I pull away with a sudden jolt. James’s eyes open, and concern laces through them.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Guilt sinks into me. I’m freaking out over a kiss I obviously invited, recoiling from James like I’m allergic to him. And he doesn’t react by being annoyed, or frustrated, or angry. His features wear a concern that’s obviously genuine.

He’s a nice guy, and that only makes this all feel so much worse, because if I can’t get into a kiss even with a guy like him, what hope do I have?

“Yeah,” I answer, dropping my gaze to my lap. “Just … a headache. Suddenly. Really bad.” I rub my temples to sell the blatant lie.

“Oh,” James says, worry still evident in his voice. “Do you need a drink? Some aspirin?”

I stand up. “No. I should just go home and rest.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Doubt is evident in his voice, and I can’t blame him. If you’re in the middle of kissing somebody and they suddenly jump away from you and claim to have a headache, it must raise some questions. “Are you going to be okay getting home?”

“My dorm is close. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. Good.” The awkwardness of the situation is bearing down on me from all sides, and his words make it clear he’s feeling the same. “Talk to you later?”

I nod. “Of course. Thanks for …” I stop myself, unsure what I was even about to say. “Sorry. These headaches. They come randomly sometimes. See you later.”

I walk quickly through the house and out the front door. My gaze is fixed on my feet in front of me as I wander aimlessly, hopelessly trying to collect the scattered thoughts rumbling through my brain.

A sharp ache twinges in my chest, negative emotions winding through my body. The one feeling that gnaws the strongest at me is regret.

It’s a purely emotional reaction. In reality, there was nothing at all wrong about my kiss with James. And yet, as I think back on it, a sharp sorrow sings through me, an almost tragic kind of sadness.

Your first kiss wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The words that blared in my head come back to me. But how can I make sense of them?

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