Page 13 of Last First Kiss

Jordan swallows. At least, he thinks he does.

Everything slows down when Jamie’s head leans in. He coaxes Jordan forward. Without thinking, Jordan’s eyes slide closed.

He’s never kissed a guy. Or anyone. But here he is, allowing Jamie Peters to be his first.

In the beginning, it’s weird, Jamie’s lips on his. Neither of them moves. They just sit there, perfectly still.

It’s nothing like the movies.

Maybe he should’ve practiced on his hand instead?

But then, Jamie’s thumb drags along his jaw. Jamie’s mouth nudges along his with a gentle, irresistible pressure. He’s like a star, his gravity pulling Jordan out of his own orbit into Jamie’s.Their mouths open simultaneously. Jordan’s lips follow the steady, earnest motions Jamie’s create.

There’s no simple way for Jordan to describe it.

Kissing Jamie is like a handful of freshly popped movie popcorn. It’s that first breath of peppermint and pine during the holidays. The cool shock of diving into a swimming pool. The hissing crackle of a summer bonfire. It’s sunrise splashing color back into the sky.

It’s a million little things at once.

And then it’s over.

Jamie pulls away.

Jordan waits a second before blinking. His vision is hazy. He finally focuses on Jamie’s face, the dizzying glint in his eyes.

(It’s another full minute before the warmth in his own belly settles.)

“Well?” Jamie prompts.

“W-what?”

Jamie snorts, eyes scrunched. “Tell me, young apprentice.” He looks the way he does when he’s about to win at something—annoyingly content. “Did you learn anything?”

Numbness spreads through Jordan’s lower lip. His skin is cool where Jamie’s hands once were. His heartbeat is deafening. The room feels sideways and inside out. He doesn’t know how to process any of this.

“I—” He grimaces. “Yes?”

“What did you learn?”

Jordan’s brain comes back online. “That you’re an average kisser. Sorry, dude. People have been lying to you.”

He almost expects Jamie’s face to fall. For him to look hurt.

Instead, Jamie lets out an indignant laugh. He half-heartedly shoves Jordan.

“Bullshit! I’m a ten.”

“Minus four,” Jordan corrects.

“Best you’ve ever had.”

“Which, again, is no one,” Jordan reminds him.

In the blue of the room, a hint of color pops against Jamie’s cheeks. Is he embarrassed? Regretful? Something else?

Jordan never gets a chance to find out.

The game restarts. Rainbow Road flashes in all its prism glory. Jamie turns his attention back to the TV.