Chapter Text
Lisa’s lips are softened by her Cotton Candy Lip Smackers. She had shown it to you, its blue tube lined with pink, with a glint of pride before smearing it across her mouth. You pick up only after you are pressing your face against her that it had been a hint, her little eight year old way of saying, ‘look, my lips are sweet, kiss me!’ She’s such a dweeb. Really, truly, lame, with her clues and big words and thoughts on stars. She kisses good, though.
When you royally screw yourself, as per usual for you, the disappointment in Lisa’s face stabs you, gets under your skin in a way that no one else can.
“A kiss doesn’t mean anything if it’s dishonest,” she quips at you. You groan and kick at some pebbles. You wish, briefly, she could just be simple like everyone else, like a kid, and stop worrying about the great matters of truths and lies. But, then again, she’s not really Lisa without the mumbo jumbo about the fate of humanity, so you’ll take the bad with the good.
“Uh, there’s a niceness to it,” you cover. A very, very niceness to it. Tingly and new and a little uncomfortable, because you haven’t figured out if you’re supposed to move your lips or just sit there. But, Lisa smells really nice and you get to be really close to her when you’re kissing. Lisa furrows her brow at you, and you know exactly what she’s thinking. How can a person be as stupid as you are? You want to tell her you don’t know either.
Instead, you admit she couldn’t change you, you accept your failing. Actually, no, you decide with yourself, not a failing. You won’t change. You rock. It’s a choice. She agrees with you. You are unchangeable.
“So is this, like, goodbye?” you ask. Lisa smiles, soft and thoughtful. She glances back up at you and your eyes shoot away.
“More like smell ya later.” She’s using your words. That’s pretty cool, actually. You manage a smile. You’d like it if she keeps that, as long as nobody knows that you two were friends, or whatever you were. You don’t get girl stuff like that.
She turns away from you and starts along the path down the hill. You wish she would just kiss you, one more time, as a goodbye or something. You finally get all the fuss people make about kissing. It’s fricking awesome, all warm and close and fuzzy. Just as you almost break and call out Lisa’s name and start begging for one final kiss, she turns over her shoulder to you.
“You know, you were my first kiss,” she says. That gets you. First kiss. Always gonna be her first kiss. The permanence of that is startling. You grin, red on your nose, and she leaves then with a final smile.
She was your first kiss, too.