Page 40 of Between Then and Now
The words hit me like a freight train. My breath catches, and I find myself gasping for air in a way that sounds more like a hiccup than anything else. “Show you? You mean, you want to actually… practice kissing? With me?” I blurt out, my voice a mix of disbelief and an undercurrent of something I can’t quite name.
“No, not the actual kissing, just the buildup you’re talking about,” he says. “But I suppose it would be awkward…” He hesitates, his eyebrows knitted together.
“No, it wouldn’t!” I say too soon.
If I don’t agree to this, it’ll be glaringly obvious that I’m wrestling with a tangle of emotions. It shouldn’t matter if a friend wants advice on kissing or even wants to practice. I’d do it for my other friends without a second thought. It’s like thatFriendsepisode where Chandler kisses everyone on the lips and it doesn't mean anything. It should be like that, right?
The rational part of my brain tells me it’s just the build-up. Not even the real kiss. But the emotional part is screaming about the boundaries being blurred and the potential mess of feelings that might come with it. It’s one of those instances with the devil on one side of your ear and an angel on the other. The devil is telling me to go through with it because I know deep down I want it and that there’s no way that an opportunity like this will come again (cunning little thing). The angel, on the other hand, is throwing its hands in the air and screaming at me to compose myself and not complicate things (yes, I’m with you!)
I take a deep breath, trying to summon the kind of calm that usually only comes after binge-watching dog videos or indulging in a big bowl of ice cream. I remind myself that this is just about helping Ryan get over his nerves. It’s not a declaration of anything more. It’s basically a ‘How to Kiss 101’ tutorial, not some grand romantic gesture. I nod slowly, trying to exude more confidence than I’m feeling. So, I tell the angel on my shoulder that today is not her day. Sorry. “Okay. If it’ll help you get over the nerves, then sure. But let’s keep it simple, alright?”
I stand up in front of him and suddenly, I’m aware of every little detail–my Tom and Jerry pajamas that are a few sizes small, the way Ryan’s blue-gray eyes scan me from head to toe, finally landing on my eyes with a mixture of curiosity and something darker. The way I’m looking up at him and how actually tall he is. Again. The way the room is suddenly too hot but also cold enough to give me shivers.
He takes a deep breath and says, “Sounds good to me.”
And there it is—the moment of truth, where my heart is doing a weird dance between ‘Oh no, what am I doing?’ and ‘Alright, let’s get this over with.’ I try to shake off the jitters and focus. I mean, how hard can it be? It’s just a quick practice, right?The worst that can happen is a one-second peck on the lips.Yeah, right. The worst.
“Okay,” I start. “So, the moment comes and you’re in front of each other. Like this. You sense that she wants to kiss you because her eyes linger on your lips,” I say, my eyes doing exactly that. “Like this,” I add in a softer tone, a voice that doesn’t sound like me.
Ryan nods, trying to look as if he’s visualizing this in his mind’s eye. “Yeah, and then I’ll look at her lips too, right?” His voice is deeper, raspier than it usually is.
I give him a reassuring nod. “Exactly. It’s like the universal sign that a kiss is about to happen. You don’t want to be that guy who’s still staring at her eyes while she’s leaning in. It’s just... awkward.”
He chuckles. “Joke’s on you, I was already that guy,” he says. “Next?”
“Next,” I continue, trying to keep my tone casual despite the racing thoughts in my head, “you need to make sure you’re not freaking out inside. Breathe. Relax. You’ve got this.” I make circular motions with my arms to gesture for him to breathe. “You lean in slowly, giving her time to adjust.” And Ryan leans in, and suddenly I’m acutely aware of the mere inches between us. I say softly, “and when my–her–” what the hell. “–eyes close, you go for it. Nice and gentle.”
The room seems to shrink, focusing solely on this tiny, intense space. His hand gently cups my cheek, and I can feel the warmth of his palm. He tilts my face upward, and his fingers brush lightly against my skin, making me shiver despite the warmth. I lose all ability to speak, and so I just blink at him in response to his movement.
“Nice and gentle,” Ryan repeats, nodding. “Got it. I can do gentle.”
What are we doing? This is it. It’s over. This is already the build-up. We’re supposed to move away now.Hello, body, move, please!
My body, disconnected from my brain, moves closer. So, I mentally prepare myself for the kiss that may or may not come, treating it like any other mundane activity—like baking cookies or assembling IKEA furniture (both of which I am terrible at). I look at his eyes, aiming to keep it short and sweet, and—well, I guess we’re doing this.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ryan
Iknow how to kiss, of course I do. I don’t need any lessons on how to kiss a girl. But why did I dodge Alexa’s attempt earlier today and then bring myself, voluntarily, to this situation with Bonbon? I don’t know why I suggested that we practice kissing. Who even does that? What am I, twelve?
But when I was sitting beside her, and I saw her look up at me when I asked her the question I asked Alexa, the only thing I thought about was how different they were. And how Bon is so comforting to talk to. And I also thought about how pink her lips were. It was like everything else faded away, and all I could focus on was her mouth, slightly parted in surprise, and the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she considered my ridiculous request.
She looks up, her fountain ponytail bobbing with every movement. Her eyes are locked in mine, and I lean closer, our noses almost touching but our lips still a few inches apart.
I should back away now. We only agreed to practice the kiss build-up. And it’s already built. Oh, it’s built perfectly.
She doesn’t move, though, so I linger a little in this moment, taking it all in. She smells like citrus and lavender and butter from the popcorn. Her skin is soft, like marshmallows and velvet combined. I notice the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the slight tension in her shoulders.
I move my right hand from her cheek to her neck and place my left one against her lower back to pull her even closer. Why? I have no idea.
Bon closes her eyes, and I wish I could say that I pulled away. That I backed away. Or even that I stayed put. But I don’t. I do the exact opposite of every rational option.
I close the gap between us.
That’s fine, I’ll just pull away. Just one second. A peck. But as our lips brush against each other, something shifts. The initial contact is delicate—barely there—but it’s enough to send a jolt through me. Her lips are warm and surprisingly gentle, like the first sip of a comforting drink on a cold day. I expected a quick peck, something fleeting and easy to dismiss.
But instead of moving away, we sink deeper into the kiss. My lips part, and hers follow. Bon moves her hands from her sides to the back of my neck. She pulls me closer, and I let her. I can feel her fingers brushing my hair, and I involuntarily make a soft grunting sound. It's as if that sound pulls Bon back to reality because she suddenly looks down, leaving my lips to press against her forehead instead.
