Fall
Priscilla S: Home and safe.
Me: Did you have fun?
Priscilla S: Kind of.
Kind of? Was it wrong to do a cartwheel?
I waited five minutes, shoved my phone into my pocket and ran over to her door, knocking hard so she would hear me.
The door opened. “Jaymeson?” She looked behind me. “Is something wrong?”
“No, uh, I just was concerned. I didn’t have your cell number and you didn’t come home right away so…”
“Oh.” She blushed. “Come in.”
Score.
I wasn’t going to wait for a second invitation. I walked in, made my way toward the breakfast bar, and sat on a stool. “So, where’s your car?”
“Well…” Her blush deepened. She shut the door and paused a brief second before turning around to face me. “Smith actually saw me walking down town and took me on a date.”
“A date?” I nodded. “And how was this date?” My teeth snapped together like a friggin’ piranha.
She frowned. “Confusing?”
“How so?” I patted the stool next to me. She took a seat and slumped against the counter.
“I don’t know.” Pris put her face in her hands. “I over-analyze everything.”
“Like what?”
She groaned into her hands. “Promise not to make fun?”
“Swear.” I held out my pinky. Damn friend zone.
“Okay, so he just seems forceful. Almost like he wants to impress me with his awesomeness, and then a girl stopped by.”
Yeah, I knew what girl that was, spawn of Satan herself.
“And then he said he’d be right back and didn’t come back until like fifteen minutes later. He was super distracted and then when he dropped me off, he asked to kiss me.”
“He asked?” I laughed.
“Stop!” Pris pushed against me. “He was being a gentleman.”
No, he was being sneaky, that’s what he was being.
“Anyway, I said yes.”
My smile hurt, it was so forced. “And?”
“And…” She licked her lips. “Oh my gosh, I’m so embarrassed, how is it that I’m talking to you about this? People’s Sexiest Man Alive? This has to be a sick joke.”
“I’m your friend.” I almost choked on the word. “Not sexiest man alive, not this year, that honor went to Mr. Levine.”
Pris played with a piece of her hair and looked down at the counter top. “I think I’m a bad kisser.”
I burst out laughing.
She smacked me in the arm. “You jerk! You promised not to laugh!”
“There’s a difference between laughing at a person and laughing because what they’re saying is so damn hilarious it’s your only option.”
She looked away.
“You’re not a bad kisser.” I rolled my eyes. “I would know.”
“That was hardly a kiss.”
“Excuse me?” I snapped, all humor draining from my body.
“No!” She put her hand on my arm. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just saying he kiss-kissed me.”
“He kiss-kissed you?” I repeated. “Is that some new terminology I don’t know about?”
“He used tongue.”
I was cutting off his tongue.
“Your point?” I ground out.
“I’m just saying your kiss was different and I think I’m a bad kisser, that’s all I’m saying. Look, let’s drop it.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Are you freaking kidding me? My pride’s at stake here!”
“Jaymeson—”
“Get up.”
“Seriously! It’s fine, let’s just watch a movie, I’m sure I’m just being paranoid.”
“Get. Off. Your. Chair.”
Her eyes went all wide and terrified looking as she slowly moved to her feet and shoved her hands in her back pockets. “I’m up.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Helping,” I grumbled.
“What?”
“Close your eyes.”
“No.”
“Don’t be difficult,” I snapped.
She closed her eyes.
I stared like a madman. Her eyelashes were so long and thick, the girl didn’t need makeup but when she wore it, all it did was accentuate her beauty. Her skin was golden but so smooth I could have sworn touching it would be like touching velvet.
I cupped her face.
Her lower lip trembled.
“Lesson one,” I whispered. “Stop shaking.”
“Well!” she huffed. “My eyes are closed! I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
“Listen.” My voice was hoarse as I cupped her face, my thumbs grazing her cheeks and lower lip. “I kiss hundreds of women. I’m an actor. It’s what I do. I’ve had bad kisses, I’ve had great kisses. I know good kissing, so I’m your best bet right now. You need to have more freaking confidence. It drives me crazy when a girl doesn’t realize how perfect she is — just by being herself.”
“Sorry.”
“And don’t apologize,” I whispered.
“Sorry.”
I groaned. “Oh and don’t panic.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to kiss you.”