AM, PM

chapter 4

Layla

The day I knew I had started to like Calum was the fifth day of December in freshman year. Ariel and I were weighing the possibilities of which guy being our potential boyfriend. At that moment, a paper airplane flew to my head and hit it. I stood up, ready to shout at whomever that was—because at the time, I was an overly pretending tough girl. He walked towards me, apologizing. But he was smiling and I noticed how beautiful his eyes were. They drew me in and ever since; I was hooked onto him.

Perhaps a stalker, I knew when Calum’s football practices were. Ariel and I usually went to watch, partly to cheer our friend Matty on, and partly to admire Calum. Although Ariel never liked Calum in the way I did; she always said that he gave off a bad vibe. As a supportive best friend though, she helped me get opportunities to talk to him.

“So,” I chuckle in a way I hope was even remotely cute, “You said you wanted to talk?”
He hums a tune I can’t bother to remember. His hand is wrapped around mine, leading me to a dark meadow behind the house. I send mental thanks to the obscurity outside for veiling my blushing face. As this is the first time Calum and I have been alone together, I prefer not looking like a tomato.

The blasting music coming from the house in front of us is making the ground vibrate the slightest bit. Calum scrunches up his nose for a second, blinks at me and smiles. My insides fluff, I pray for this night to end as well as I want it to. All I hope for is a confession of him liking me or even a kiss.

“I did, “I heard rumors about you—perhaps liking me.”

My eyes slowly follow his hand sliding to my waist. I need to take breaths to steady myself.

“Oh, did you now?”

“I did,” he repeats, “Are they true?”

Building up courage in a split second, I reply.

"There’s a possibility.” My answer surprises me. Two weeks ago I had difficulty talking to him, now I’m…flirting with the guy.

“Ah?” his eyes crinkle, “That’s good.”
And with every millisecond passing, I can feel his face coming closer to mine. His eyes are concentrated on my lips. I can’t think; can’t function; can’t breathe. His lips approach mine slowly and softly, and soon he is kissing me. My eyes are shut, I am afraid that if I open them I’ll wake up from a remarkably sweet dream.

It is everything I want it to be—tender and passionate. He tastes like popcorn and alcohol; I hate it. I wonder when he will stop, but he only inserts his tongue in my mouth. And it is at that moment that I want him to stop. I try to kiss him back, but it feels bizarre. In the books and movies; this is supposed to feel good, but why does it feel so wrong?

The only thing I am sure of at this moment is that I want him off of me, as far away from me as possible.

God damn it, the only other guy I ever kissed was Jerry; my hot mess of a freshman year boyfriend. We broke up a week after we had kissed: because he got bored of my lips. To this day, Ariel and I still imitate him and make jokes about him (without his knowing about it, of course.) Mean? Maybe. Fun? Definitely.

This is not the time for flashback, because my slight mental absence at that moment could give Calum the wrong impression, one that would cost me a lot. I am pulled back to reality, where a long-time crush is violently shoving his tongue in my mouth. His hands glide from my waist to my butt. I bring myself to push him off as strictly as I can. My heart is racing; agita is spreading in my veins.

“I didn’t know first kisses end up in making out and uh—butt touching,” I say nervously, wiping my lips. Shockingly, I want the trace of his lips off mine. I should’ve gotten to know him better before liking him.