Page 11 of Last First Kiss

Jamie cocks his head. “Is it just the fact that you’ve never been on a date?” In the room’s swimming-pool-blue glow, Jamie looks different and the same all at once.

Fuck, how high is Jordan?

Clearlyvery, because he admits, “There’s something else.”

Jamie waits for him to finish.

“I—” Jordan’s eyes lower. He can’t say this with Jamie watching him. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Silence.

Jordan anticipates a laugh. A full-body cackle that finally wakes Denz. What he doesn’t expect is Jamie’s soft “Okay.”

Or the gentle squeeze he gives Jordan’s shoulder.

Or thewhat’s the big deal?carved into his expression when Jordan finally looks at him again.

Jordan certainly doesn’t predict Jamie’s next five words:

“Do you want to practice?”

“Practice?” Jordan’s voice hasn’t reached that octave since he was five.

Jamie shrugs. “Yeah.”

Jordan’s eyes bulge. His heart is so far up his throat he can taste his arteries.

“On a pillow,” Jamie continues. “Or the mirror. Maybe your hand.”

“My… hand,” Jordan repeats.

“That’s how I learned,” Jamie says. “Actually, I started with the inside of my elbow.” He raises one arm, demonstrating.

“Okay,” Jordan says like he doesn’t even know what the word means. Like he can’t believe he’s watching Jamie, eyes closed, making out with the skin between his forearm and surprisingly defined bicep.

Why isthata thing Jordan notices?

“It’s a little weird,” Jamie confesses, dragging his wet arm across hisBRIGHTON ACADEMY SOCCER TEAMT-shirt. “Mouths don’t feel like that.”

“They”—Jordan blinks once—“don’t?”

“Nah. But it’s a start.”

“So.” Jordan swallows. “To clarify: You were suggesting I practice kissing on my elbow. Not—”

He stops short.

“What?” Jamie’s right eyebrow flexes. “Did you think I wanted you to practice on—”

There it is. The light behind Jamie’s eyes. The slow climb of his mouth on one side like he’s solved the mystery of the Loch Ness monster.

“Jordan,” he says with far too much amusement.

“No, no, no.”

“Jordan.”

“I wasn’t thinking—”