Jason nudged me with his elbow.
We were standing very close in front of the sink.
‘It wasn’t your fault. That guy who came in, he’s in my corridor. I swear he never looks where he’s going. I’ve bumped into him like five times.’
‘Are you – is it OK? We don’t need to go to A&E or anything?’
‘I think it’s fine. I should probably just stand here for a few minutes, though.’
We fell into silence again, listening to the sound of running water.
Then Jason said, ‘Er, you don’t have to hold my hand if you don’t want to.’
I was still holding his wrist, keeping his hand under the tap. I quickly let go, but then realised that maybe that had been a sort-of-flirty line, and he wanted me to keep holding his hand … or maybe he didn’t and it didn’t mean anything? I wasn’t sure. It was too late.
I turned my head to find him staring down at me. He quickly looked away, but almost immediately turned back again so that we were holding each other’s gaze.
It was like a siren suddenly going off everywhere around me.
Like a burglar alarm that wakes you up so hard you can’t stop shaking for half an hour.
Looking back, it was almost hilarious.
Whenever someone tried to kiss me, I went headfirst into a fight or flight response.
His eyes focused on my lips, then darted back up. He wasn’t like Tommy. He was trying very hard to work out whether this was something I wanted. He was looking for the signals. Had I been giving off the signals? Maybe it would have been easier for him to just ask, but how do people phrase that in a non-cheesy way? And to be honest, I was glad he didn’t ask, because what would I have said?
No. I would have said no, because it turned out I just couldn’t lie to anyone except myself.
As he moved towards me, only a fraction of an inch, I imagined the Countdown timer music starting to play.
I wanted to try.
I wanted to want to kiss him.
But I didn’t actually want to kiss him.
But maybe I should do it anyway.
But I didn’t want to.
But maybe I wouldn’t know until I tried.
But I knew that I already knew.
I already knew what I felt.
And Jason could tell.
He moved back again, clearly embarrassed. ‘Uh … sorry. Wrong moment.’
‘No,’ I found myself saying. ‘Go on.’
I wanted him to just do it. I wanted him to rip the plaster off. Yank the bone back into shape. Fix me.
But I already knew there was nothing to fix.
I was always going to be like this.
He met my eyes, questioning. Then he leant in and pressed his lips to mine.
My first kiss was with Jason Farley-Shaw in the November of my first year of university, standing in front of a college kitchen sink.
As much of a romantic as I was, I hadn’t given much thought to what my first kiss would be like. Looking back, that probably should have been an indicator of me not really wanting to kiss anyone, but years of films, music, TV, peer pressure, and my own craving for a big love story had brainwashed me into believing this was going to be something amazing, as long as I gave it a shot.
It was not amazing.
In fact, I hated it. I think I would have felt less uncomfortable if someone had dared me to start singing on public transport.
It was not Jason’s fault that it was not amazing. I didn’t have anyone to compare him to, obviously, but objectively, he was perfectly fine at kissing. He didn’t do it too deep or forcefully. There were no teeth incidents, or, God forbid, tongue.
I knew what sorts of feelings kissing was supposed to bring up. I’d read hundreds, possibly thousands of fanfics by this point. Kissing someone you like was supposed to make your head spin, your stomach twist, your heart speed up, and you were supposed to enjoy it.
I didn’t feel any of that. I just felt a deep, empty dread in the pit of my stomach. I hated how close he was. I hated the way his lips felt against mine. I hated the fact that he wanted to do this.
It only lasted for a few seconds.
But those were some very uncomfortable seconds for me.
And, from the look on his face, they were for him too.
‘You look like that was terrible,’ I found myself saying. I didn’t know what else to say but the truth by this point.
‘So do you,’ said Jason.
‘Oh.’
Jason looked away with a pained expression. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
‘Well, I fucked that up,’ I said.
He shook his head immediately. ‘No, it’s my fault. Sorry. Shit. It was the wrong moment.’