I did not want it, but I expected it. When the night was over he towered over my small frame and began talking about if, and when, I wanted to hang out again. We stood next to our cars in his best friend’s driveway when he gave me a hug that lasted for-ever. He must have felt comfortable because he set his chin on top of my head, but it was late and I was ready to go home so I let go of his slim waist. He went in for another hug after I had let go, but this time he was the one to pull back first. Then there was the long awkward stare before the inevitable kiss. But it was not a kiss.
With you it was different. I had such a great time that I did not want to leave, but I knew I had to or else I would have easily spent the night. When you walked me out to my car I wanted to wrap my arms around your sturdy shoulders and talk about the next time we would meet again. I did not expect a kiss even though I secretly wanted one. And when you went for it I turned into some giddy thirteen-year-old girl. A silly little girl who was jumping up and down on the inside, but also doubting her kissing skills because she was blindsided. Now that is a kiss.
I knew you before I knew him. I had known your lips for about two months, but nowadays that means practically nothing. So I went on a date with him on the weekend you went home to see your brother graduate high school. I felt no remorse because you had done something similar, if not worse, a few weeks prior. But I found out about your date and you would never find out about mine. You would never find out about mine because I did not care about him the way I cared about you. I would not see or talk to him again, and I would not be caught in a picture with him on social media. There was nothing wrong with the date, we actually had a night filled with adventure and laughter. But he was not you.
He was not you because he did not make me quiver. He was not you because I did not call my best friend immediately after our first date. He was not you because he did not pick up on my sarcasm and shoot it straight back at me. I did not think of you once that night until he kissed me. It was in that moment I realized I only wanted to be kissing you. And I kissed him back just because I knew you had been with her. I was hoping this night could help me figure some things out, but his kiss could not compete with our first kiss. Our lips were companions and he had the lips of a stranger.
It was not until a few months later, on the last night I saw you, that you felt like someone I did not know. The guy I went to see that night was quiet and closed off. I did not even want to sleep in your bed so I stayed on the couch until it felt too awkward not to sleep with you. The next morning you gave me a quick peck goodbye in your sleep. And as I pushed myself off of your chest you gave me another air kiss as if the first kiss was some kind of joke. That kiss is the last memory I have of you and me together, and the worst part is; it was not a kiss.