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Oh.
Okay.
So many things are happening right now. So. Many. Things.
I can’t make sense of all of them. The pain in my scalp. The zing in my blood. The pounding of my heart. And there’s a thrill. It scares me how thrilling this sounds. It’s so confusing. It’s messing with my head. But I know one thing for sure. I know that I want him to kiss me, and I won’t mind if he does that lip-suck thing again.
But first I need to tell him something. Something that’s important. “I don’t hate you.”
Our chests are colliding like we’re stars in the sky. I was wrong before. This is the big bang. This is crashing. This is how our love story is born.
“Yeah.” His fingers twitch in my hair.
“I-I think I… love you.”
This time his yeah comes out as a breath of relief. Sweet, sweet relief.
“But isn’t love like a… like a grown-up thing? I mean, aren’t we… aren’t we too young to feel this way?”
I don’t know if this is normal. He’s pulling my hair until it hurts. How can that be normal? How can I want him to do more of that? Besides, I’m only thirteen and he’s fifteen. Isn’t love too big a thing for people our age?
“Says who? God?” he mocks.
“And people,” I squeak.
“Fuck God, Pixie. Fuck the world. We’ll be our own gods. You be mine and I’ll be yours.”
I feel dizzy. I literally feel faint right now. My vision is blurring. All I can see is him. His golden hair, his honey-brown eyes and those red-as-apples lips. Is that what Adam and Eve felt when they wanted to bite into that fruit? Is that what Delilah felt when David asked her to be his, against all men and nature?
I wish I knew. I wish I knew if this is what they all felt because then, I’d be able to say no. I’d be able to tell what this is. I think this is a sin. I mean, didn’t he just bad-mouth God? I don’t believe in that. I don’t believe in screwing off God or bad-mouthing Him. I’m a believer, aren’t I?
But still, I nod because it feels so right. “Yes.”
His smile is super close to my own mouth that I feel his lips stretching. And then, I don’t care about anything else. “Will you kiss me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you did before. With that lip-suck thingy.”
He chuckles softly. “I love you, Pixie.”
With that, he kisses me like I asked him to. It’s wet and piercing. Sharp and soft. It tilts my world and makes sparks run under my skin, and I never want him to stop.
***
Later at home, I sit at the dining table with my new phone in the pocket of my dress. I join my hands in front of me while Mom says grace and I think about that kiss. I thumb my tingling lips and realize now I am a believer. Now, with the sparks still running under my skin and stars shooting in my lips, I finally have the proof of His existence.
“You taste like sugar,” Abel whispers against my lips, making me blush.
“You taste like apples,” I whisper back.
“Yeah?” He nuzzles his nose below my ear, tickling me.
“Abel, stop,” I say, giggling. “We can’t be loud.”
“In a second.”
He’s placing feather-soft kisses all over the column of my throat and I’m too weak to resist him. I let my head fall back and look to the dark ceiling of the church closet.
The service is about to start and I told Sky that I needed to go to the bathroom. We only have about five or at the max, ten minutes, if I’m willing to lie about my digestive system.
I don’t want to think about it when Abel is making me feel so good, both light and heavy. It’s like my feet don’t touch the ground when he’s this close and kissing me. All I can do is clutch his soft t-shirt between my fingers and lean against him.
His kisses are not always this feathery light, though. Nope. They can be sharp and wet with his teeth biting me. I once told him that kisses aren’t supposed to hurt. He smirked and bit into my bottom lip gently, saying aren’t they? Remember I told you I bite. Maybe you should’ve listened to me.
Besides, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way. There was a time when I was obsessed with his lips. Like, really obsessed. I still am but I’ve added a few more things on my list of obsessions: his teeth and his tongue.
I can’t stop thinking about them. For reals. I can’t stop thinking how his teeth take my fleshy lower lip and pinch just enough to make me want more, and how his tongue leaves wet trails along the seam of my mouth. Sometimes our teeth clack against each other because we’re so desperate. But he’s always mindful of my bruises.
