It's Not What It Looks Like

ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ | ɴᴏ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞.

Ten-year-old Mena (feeling like the hot shit in her Hello Kitty miniskirts) envisioned carriages, bird songs, and fairytale beginnings. The musings of thirteen-year-old Mena (a self-proclaimed emo) involved concert tickets, stage lights and smudged black eyeliner, which she firmly believed would make all the members of her favourite band fall madly in love with her.

There were also summer romances, with their pink evenings and lips that taste like raspberry sherbert, completed by an ABBA soundtrack. New years eve kisses, with fireworks going off in the background, were no less enticing. She never had anything against being pinned up against the wall by her rival during an alien apocalypse, either.

In short, she was (as per usual) ready for it all.

Yet somehow, Silena Valentine still managed to surprise her.

Could you blame her for being taken aback, though? Especially after Silena had so confidently denied the possibility only three days prior.

Props to her, honestly. For a popular, mean, blonde cheerleader, she can get rather unpredictable.

Though, Mena isn't currently capable of deciphering just why Silena had changed her mind.

In fact, as odd as it may sound, she's not exactly capable of thinking about anything at all. For the first time since she has learned to form words, Mena finds her mind going blank; with the sole exception of three universal facts.

Fact number one: kissing is nice.

Of course, Mena has expected as much. She figured that if most of the world is continuously making such a fuss about it, it has to be at least somewhat pleasant. Still, whereas some of her other experiences have fallen flat in comparison to the fantasies in her head, kissing does not disappoint.

Silena keeps one hand on her waist, pulling her closer to her own body, and the other on her cheek. She makes a gentle, soothing circle motion with her thumb, that Mena isn't entirely sure she's even aware of, but appreciates nonetheless.

Which brings us directly to the universal fact number two.

Silena is a good kisser.

Even after the game, she smells of that dumb jasmine shampoo, and tastes like shea butter lip balm, bubble baths, dancing under the kitchen lights, and exploding stars.

Or, you know. Something.

Once Mena climbs up on her tiptoes, Silena is the perfect height for being kissed; which is really quite convenient, because Mena is quickly finding that she enjoys it greatly. There's also this thing that Silena does with her tongue, which Mena doesn't really have a name for, but quickly qualifies as one of her favourite things ever.

Fact number three, which is slightly less exciting, is that this will be a very strange first kiss story to tell her mum.

What a story it is, though.

She's pretty sure that the entire stadium is staring at them at this point.

Or it at least feels that way.

All the stares and voices were easy to tune out while they were kissing, but once they separate, Mena is suddenly unsure what to do with herself. Silena, though, is as calm as ever. She smirks, wiping off smudged lipgloss from Mena's bottom lip, puts an arm around her shoulder, and turns to both of the teams with a cool smile.