Found Out What Lips Taste Like

We stood outside, kissing on my front steps. I was up one step higher even though she was one inch taller. Jenna Milton, with round cheeks that flushed red when she got nervous, got angry, was excited or apparently kissed boys. I didn’t know where to put my hands, so I remember holding them out to my side, thinking I looked like a fool but too damn happy to move anything but my head. Our lips took turns mashing together and pulling awkwardly apart. Wasn’t there something you were supposed to do with your tongue? I remember that we were still dressed in our school uniforms, both wearing those ugly, navy blue sweater vests and shiny penny loafers scuffed on the bottom, from sliding across the playground blacktop during recess.

It started to feel like forever, our faces twisting hard against each other and I was unsure about how to call a timeout without sending the wrong message. An absurd amount of spit was building up in my mouth and threatened to come spilling out onto her chin. Was this how it was supposed to be, were kisses meant to be this soggy? Should my eyes be open, was she looking right at me? I was 13 and pretty sure I liked the taste of lips.