“There’s nothing better when something comes and hits you and you think ‘YES’!”
― J.K. Rowling
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I don’t know how many girls have come in here to kiss ME, the notorious Wyatt Jacobs, but all of them have pretty much jumped on me. I don’t know if they’re just thinking, “I’m kissing Wyatt Jacobs, I’m gonna give him all I got.” But none of them are really great kissers, much less the ones that have lip-gloss on, and that annoying smelling perfume that’s given me the shitty headache I’m having now.
I wanna take-off this blindfold. But I don’t want the guys thinking I can’t handle this when I can. I can. I can. But I’m not enjoying this as much as I thought I would. Yes, making out with girls all night blindfolded in one of the biggest closets in your father’s house sounds great, right? It’s not. All the girls who’ve come in here to make out with me, have given me their numbers with their names written on a small piece of paper–not that I’m thinking of calling either of them after this, because this just sucks.
It was Dirk Thompson’s idea to do this; everything always having to be a competition with the guy. It has to do with how much kisses each guy on the team can receive in a closet blind-folded every time I throw a party here at my dad’s house. Some have even come close to making it to third base—there’s been some close calls, but I don’t feel the need to waste my time.
And just when I’m about to lose my patience waiting for the next girl to come.
At first, I’m surprised she doesn’t jump on me as well as the fact that after a minute she hasn’t peeped a word. I then begin to doubt whether or not there’s someone else standing here with me. It’s quiet, but I’m sure I can feel someone else’s body heat radiating a couple inches away from me.
“Eh hello?” I ask, unsure.
“Sorry,” the girl mumbles. I crack a smile. I don’t know why I’m smiling, though I think it’s out of relief knowing that I’m not just imagining things. I can smell a bit of her perfume, vanilla I think, and it’s refreshing compared to the other perfumes I’ve smelt tonight that have added to my headache.
“Uh…” Ironically, I don’t know what to say. Not that in the past time I’ve engaged in conversations with any of the girls that have come in here. Like I said, they’ve all pretty much jumped on me. No words exchanged really, other than squeals of delight to be kissing the most popular guy in school and star player of the Wayward High football team.
“So…” I try to think of something to say.
“Can you see me?” she asks suddenly, beating me to it.
I crack another smile. “I’m pretty sure Zeke took care of that. He double folded the shit out of this thing.” she giggles at that. “So no, I can’t see you.” I say matter-of-factly.
Another moment of silence pass before I ask her something.
“Do you go to Wayward?”
“Yeah. I’m a junior.” She says.
I don’t know what else to ask now.
Another 10 seconds of silence pass.
Note: the silence isn’t awkward.
“Is that a scar on your neck?” the girl asks me next. Her voice sounds sweet and nice. She asks the question out of curiosity which surprises me. Not that the scar is noticeable. It’s small and you can only really see it when you’re really up close to me.
I’d gotten the scar about a summer ago when I tried to rescue my little sister Tally’s cat Luna from a tree. I’d climbed the tree successfully, but the problem was Luna. She’d caused one of the thinner tree branches of the tree to scratch my neck resulting in the scar on my neck that’s a little above my Adam’s apple. Thankfully, I hadn’t fallen or broken my neck trying to save my sister’s damn cat. And Tally had gotten her cat after many setbacks.
“Uh ye—” I try and attempt to tell the story to the girl without sounding like a dumbass. But she does something that catches me off guard.
She kisses the scar.
Right when I feel her lips touch my scar I feel something warm in my stomach. The kiss, feeling new, lingers there for a moment though it’s a quick kiss. But the kiss feels different than any of the other kisses I’ve received from any girl tonight—and not because it’s in a different spot. Actually, the kiss is different than any of the other kisses I’ve received from any girl in my entire life. What makes the kiss different, is the feeling that had formed in my stomach when I felt her lips.
“I’m sorry,” the girl says quickly. She sounds embarrassed, when she shouldn’t be. That kiss was terrific.
“You’re okay,” I reassure her, smiling again, “it was great actually.”
I hear her take a deep breath. “I probably shouldn’t have come in here,” she says, ignoring my compliment. “I’m probably not a good kisser and it doesn’t help that I haven’t kissed a guy before. I lack in experience and I’m naïve for thinking this is gonna work. I’m just pitiful, I’m a junior for Pete’s sake and I can’t even have my first kiss experience make wonders for me since I’m so awkward. I’m awkward aren’t I?”
“This is your first kiss?” I say this out of surprise, ignoring her other question. She isn’t awkward, she’s quirky and there’s nothing wrong with that.
I remember having my first kiss in the 6th grade at a dance with Julie Tatherson. The kiss was nothing special and the fact that she broke up with me a week after that didn’t help, either. I’ve made out multiple times tonight with many girls, and with different girlfriends and flings in the past. But this girl must’ve been something, if she hadn’t had her first kiss yet. I’m just glad she isn’t a freshman. I’m grateful for that. And there’s another part of me wanting to make her first kiss special.
So, I put my hands on both sides of her face, and…
First I kiss her forehead.
Then the tip of her nose.
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