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When I see his lips, all I can think about is how they felt when pressed against mine, how soft they were, and how his tongue swirled around mine.
I feel my face flush, and I pray it’s dark enough outside that he doesn’t notice.
He doesn’t come forward into the window, like he normally would. No. He stands at a distance and tucks his hands in the pants he’s wearing, rocking back on his heels.
“We got back a few hours ago. Sorry I didn’t call or anything. With the long-distance charges, I didn’t want to rack up a bill on my aunt’s phone.”
He’s looking anywhere but at me, and I’ve never seen him act so uncomfortable in my life.
I think everything I need to know is written in a foreign language that only I can read, as if the words were in neon-green lights, flashing all around him.
He regrets kissing me.
“Look.” He closes his eyes, then opens them and stares right at me. I can’t form a single word in my mouth, so I sit there, dumbfounded, as he continues, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”
My heart sinks as my eyes stay locked on him.
What the hell does he mean, like that?
I rub my lips together, feeling pretty stupid, sitting here and listening to him apologize for something that I thought was amazing and have obsessed about these past two weeks, only to hear he regretted it.
“I …” He sighs. “I mean, I had a little to drink, and I don’t know what I was thinking. But you and I …” He glances to the side that faces the front door. “Um …” He kicks something with his foot. “We can’t do that kind of stuff. We’re, um … we’re friends, you know? I shouldn’t have …” He leaves it lingering in the air, and nothing but anger fuels me.
I sat here for the past two weeks, thinking something was real between us. I thought that this was perfect. If my dad approved of anyone, it would be him. Yet here he is, saying he shouldn’t have.
You know what? He shouldn’t have.
If he didn’t want to kiss me, then he shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. He shouldn’t have turned me on that way. And he definitely shouldn’t have taken my first kiss, only to come back and say he regretted it.
Fuck him.
“Well, you’ve said your piece. I hear you. You shouldn’t have then. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Justin is on his way to pick me up.”
I go to close the window, and he stops me.
“Justin who?”
The way he questions this makes me even more pissed off. It’s none of his damn business who.
“That doesn’t concern you. Have a good night.”
I close the window and then the blinds. I’m not sure whether to scream in frustration or cry. When I see my reflection in the mirror, my body leans toward cry, but I stop short and deny my first reaction to what just happened.
I will not let him bring me down that way.
I don’t want the memory of my first kiss to go down as this epic failure it’s turning out to be.
I hold my head high and step out of my room to grab my purse, praying Justin shows up soon.
“Hey, Daddy,” I yell out. “Justin will be here any minute. I’ll be home by midnight.”
He comes from around the kitchen. “And not a second later.” He points at me.
I sigh, then walk up to him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, Daddy. Not a second later.”
A horn honking from the front yard catches our attention, and I jump with a sudden rush of excitement. Getting out of this house and away from anywhere near Aaron is exactly what I need.
“Bye,” I say as I head toward the door.
