Relief floods through me. River didn’t hurt her. But then confusion takes over. “That’s… that’s what you’re worried about?”
She drops her hands and looks at me with misery written all over her face. “Micah, I’ve kissed River twice now, and both times, it was just… a nothing burger. I feltblah. What if I’m doing it wrong? What if there’s something fundamentally broken about me?”
I can’t help it. I laugh. Not because it’s funny but because the idea of Cricket being bad at kissing is ridiculous.
“Don’t laugh at me!” she says, throwing a pillow at me.
“I’m not laughing at you,” I say, catching the pillow. “Cricket, it’s impossible that you’re kissing wrong. Maybe you don’t have chemistry with River.”
She shakes her head emphatically. “No, that’s not it. River likes our kisses. He’s handsome, sweet, successful, funny. If I can’t feel anything kissing him, then the problem is definitely me.”
“That’s not how it works?—”
“I must be doing something technically wrong,” she interrupts. “Like maybe I’m too stiff, or I’m breathing wrong, or my lips are positioned incorrectly, or?—”
“Cricket, stop.” I stand up from the couch and fold my arms. “You’re overthinking this. There’s nothing wrong with the way you kiss.”
She groans and shakes her head. “I’m a loser. I can’t even do something simple like kiss properly.”
I huff. It’s so ridiculous I can’t stand it anymore. “You’re not a loser, and I’ll prove it to you. Come here and kiss me.”
I didn’t know I was going to say that, and my shock makes the words hang in the air between us.
She stares at me, her eyes wide. “What?”
I blink, what I said sinking in. I could kiss Cricket if it would prove to her that she’s not broken. “Come on. We’re two adults. I can prove to you that what you’re doing is fine.”
She stands up, too, and begins pacing. “Micah… that’s not a good idea.”
“What’s the big deal? It would just be a demonstration. Completely platonic. Like… like a tutorial.”
“No.” She says it more forcefully than I feel is necessary. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s just a kiss.” I put my hands on my hips. “I could see if you’re doing something wrong.”
She rakes a hand through her hair. “I know I am. Still, I can’t kiss you.”
I frown. Why is she so adamant that she doesn’t want to kiss me? Now this feels like a challenge. “It’s not weird if we both know it doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s educational.”
“I don’t think?—”
“Come on. Stop making this into a big deal.”
She huffs, finally relenting. “Fine. But this is purely instructional. Got it?”
“Yeah, but if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. Come here.”
She walks to me, her face showing how reluctant she is to do this. But it’s really no big deal. I’ve kissed plenty of girls. No one can do it wrong, but I might as well give her some pointers.
“Okay,” I say, trying to sound clinical and detached. “The first thing you need to understand is that the kiss isn’t the most important part. It’s everything that leads up to it.”
She nods seriously, like she’s taking notes in her head.
“It’s about anticipation,” I continue, stepping closer to her. “Building tension.”
I slowly reach out and place my hands on her waist, and I swear I feel her breath catch. “Physical contact is important. You want to feel connected before your lips even touch.”
I pull her to me, and it feels… good. When did Cricket get curves? How have I never noticed how perfectly she fits against me?
