Spin the Bottle

Ben

The empty, green box of Ecto Cooler is sitting by her knee, the orange straw brushing her bare leg. “I practiced on my hand. I feel like this should be easy,” she says, her eyes wide and fixed on mine. Licking her lips, she tilts her head to study my lips, like I’m some science experiment.

I nod. “You can’t be that bad at it. You didn’t have to practice on my account.”

“If we’re ever going to one of Jenny’s parties we need to know how to kiss. They play seven minutes in heaven and spin the bottle, Benny. We need all the practice we can get. My hand is always around. You’re not.”

Imagining my first real kiss always involved Harper, but in my dreams it wasn’t as unromantic as this. We’re sixteen and instead of making out in the back of a movie theater like most kids our age, we’re in the old wooden treehouse my dad built us when we were seven. “If you want to make out with me for practice I’ll be around more,” I say, waggling my eyebrows, grinning.

“Gross. Don’t make this anymore weird than it has to be. I want to be skilled. Maybe then the boys in our class will want me.” A pang of envy slices through my chest and the smile fades from my face. “I mean, that’s what they want, right? Good kissers?” She’s misreading my facial cues. Thank God.

She has full lips and perfect skin. That’s not what they want, though. Harper has an ass and body on her that should be illegal. I know that’s how I’ve tagged her because she’s my best friend. All of the guys want her. Every single one. I’m weak, ole’ Benny, so it’s just a matter of time before some jock comes and takes her out of my treehouse and life. I won’t be able to do anything to stop it, but I can make sure I have her first kiss. “Right. That’s what they want.” And sex.

She gets up on her knees and takes the empty juice box in her hand and places it between us. “Spin it. We’ll practice like it’s going to be the real thing.” Her cheeks are red now. When I comment on her flustered appearance, she swats me on the shoulder and tells me to grow up. “Spin Slimer, Benny. This needs to be somewhat legitimate so it’s not two desperate teens practicing kissing for a cool kid’s party.”

Swallowing, I scoot closer to the box. “What if it’s not just practice for me? I’m desperate,” I reply, looking at her.

Harper raises one brow.

“I’m desperate to kiss you,” I say, my voice cracking.

She chews her bubble gum a few times and her eyebrows pull together. Harper isn’t confused, she’s trying to figure out the meaning behind my words. She’s self-conscious, so I know where she’s going to jump first. I hold out my hand, the first move. “Because I want to kiss you. Not because I want practice for any other girl.”

Her jaw stops working. “Benny. I’ll kiss you no matter what. You don’t have to pretend.” She puts her hand in mine and it’s electric—a jolt of testosterone and pride and every other thing she makes me feel. Alive.

I walk toward her on my knees and I think my heart might explode out of my chest. I never see her this close up and it’s a crying shame. The way her soft eyelashes flutter when she looks away seems like a movement from a dream dimension. I grab her chin when she’s close enough and tilt her chin to look up at me. Shaking my head, I say, “This isn’t me pretending.”

My black glasses slip down my nose. Harper grins. Familiar territory. With soft hands she reaches up and takes my glasses off, folds them, and sets them on the windowsill. “You’re not like…you right now,” she says. That’s exactly what I want her to feel. I want to be the man she wants, not the boy she’s known. “It’s hot.”

“Do you want to kiss me?” I ask. It’s mostly out of curiosity, because I can’t get a read of her. Is she playing?

Licking her lips, she sticks her tongue through her bubble gum and blows a bubble, her eyes slanted in thought as she studies my face. The bubble gets so huge I know I could pop it and it would cover her face. I don’t, though. I wait for her to bite the bubble and recapture the gum in her mouth. Harper takes the gum out and sets it on the side of the juice box and takes the final step on her knee to put us chest to chest.

Her breaths come faster now and I want to say something to calm her. To let her know I’m just as nervous and how much this means to me, but words don’t come. Blood does. Rushing to my dick faster than when I look at my dad’s tittie mags he keeps in the bottom of his bathroom drawer. Harper puts her hands around my neck and my hands automatically lock around the bottom of her back, one hand creeping down to her ass.

“I want to kiss you,” she says. Her voice isn’t confident. It almost comes out as a question. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you,” she finishes.

Her hands slide up the back of my head and a bolt of pleasure washes over my whole body. Tingles and my hard-on pounds and she’s in my arms and I can feel the heat of her skin through the thin white shirt. Her eyes are locked on mine and it feels surreal, like we’re adults, like we’re finally doing something because we want to, not because it’s what we should do, or what’s expected of us. She breathes out and I smell Bubble-Yum, and my mouth waters.

Because I’m trying to be the man and not the boy, I run my hands up her sides, and the simple movement elicits a sigh from her, and my head swims a little. Can you black out from anticipation? From all the blood traveling to my cock instead of my brain? Is that possible? I should know something like this.

“Benny,” she moans out, her eyes closed and her forehead pressed against mine.

“It’s me,” I reply, returning my hands to her lower back.

I tilt my head to the side the tiniest of degrees and press my lips against hers. She responds right away, opening slightly. I follow her lead and move my lips in sync with hers. She clutches my neck tighter and I pull her against me closer. My mind clears. It’s amazing. At any given moment, my brain is filled with a thousand video clips of worries, concerns, or just noise. My concerns about ruining our friendship by mixing kisses, disappear. Softly, I bring my hands up to cradle her face and use my thumb to pry her mouth open a little wider.

I want everything. All of her. I slide my tongue out tentatively and she jumps a little, but after a second she meets me with her tongue and it’s so soft, and so wet, and it tastes like Harper and bubble gum and I forget to breathe. I forget everything except what’s underneath my hands.

The kiss turns a little more frantic as we both gain confidence. Her hands leave my neck and travel down to the bottom of my tee. Harper runs her fingertips under my shirt, against my skin while keeping her lips against mine. In a quick blast of panic, I pull away, my eyes still closed, and my chest heaving.

“My God,” I say, swallowing, holding Harper by her shoulders. When I let my eyes open, I notice her eyes are heavy, her pink mouth open and swollen. She’s staring at me with a hungry look in her eye. Everything about this moment is perfect. We’re not kids anymore. The switch flipped. All generators are running on high. Words aren’t needed. We can read each other without even trying.

She leans in and kisses me again. This time we know what we’re doing a little more than last time and when she breaks away to catch her breath, I feel more than everything.

I pull her against my body and my raging hard-on. “I love you, Benny,” she whispers, hugging my neck like a spider monkey.

“I love you, Harper Jean.”

She pulls away, grinning like a maniac. We’re such rebels. “I also love those Bubble-Yum lips,” I say, through a wide smile. “Give me some more of those?”

She does.