Seven minutes in heaven

You kissed him, but it felt wrong. You think maybe it’s just the technique; the depth, the tongue, the position of your lips. You try to deepen the kiss, try a different approach. Pull him nearer, grab his hair, let his hands roam your body. It still feels wrong.  Instead of feeling heady, you are more aware of how slimy his saliva is and how clammy his hands are. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, burning your skin in an unpleasant way.  You feel a heavy lead settle in your stomach,  and it’s not the pleasant one that you know, the one that you feel when you explore beneath your blankets at night.

You control your breathing. Hitched breaths between slow ones. You will yourself to like it, to feel at least a smidgen of heat. You should be ecstatic, you think, you like him after all and all your friends know it. That is why you will be in this closet for the next seven minutes.

When the seven minutes are up, he lets go of you then gave you one of his lopsided smile that you love so much. You smile back politely, go out of the closet before him, still feeling nothing.

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