Page 2 of Kiss Me Again

"You scared me." I smile nervously. Honestly, I thought he went upstairs with his girlfriend, Tammie, who’s been hanging on his shoulder the whole evening. It’s been a while since I've seen him.

"I'm sorry," he says without a smile and steps closer.

Was he drinking? I can smell whiskey on his breath even though Ben never drinks. And the way he’s looking at me now makes me shiver again. It’s as if he can see all the way through me.

I have known Ben almost my whole life, as long as I have known Diana. We were always good friends. Di has been my best friend since middle school, which makes her older brother a good friend. It was always easy to talk to Ben until I turned fourteen and realized that Di's older brother was handsome and popular.

That's when I started feeling a little bit shy around him, and things between us got slightly awkward: we stopped texting or even talking to each other if Di wasn't around. Even when she was, it always felt like we both wanted to end the conversation as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry about Chad," he says and takes one more step, standing right in front of me. I swallow, feeling his breath on my skin.

"You saw that?" I ask, surprised. I thought he wasn't even in the room.

"Unfortunately, yes, and again, I'm sorry," he repeats, without breaking our eye contact for a second.

"It's not your fault," I say, and my voice is trembling as if standing so close to Ben makes me nervous.

But why? He used to be one of my closest friends! Why do I feel so awkward when he’s around?

"I know you didn't want to come," he says as his eyes peer into me, "Di told me that you probably wouldn't be here, but I'm glad you are."

"You are?" I’m surprised. I thought he never cared if I was around.

"And I'm glad you didn't kiss him," Ben continues. His eyes lower from my eyes to my lips, and at the same time, he licks his own.

Oh gosh, this can't be happening, can it? Is he going to kiss me?

I feel my body start to tremble, and I lick my lower lip to calm myself.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if your first kiss was with somebody else," he whispers, placing his hand on my cheek and brushing his thumb over my lips.

And before I can realize what that means, Ben leans closer and places his mouth on mine.

His other hand lands on my waist, squeezing it slightly as he starts kissing me. A low groan escapes his mouth as if he is anticipating that kiss.

I respond. Of course I do. When the handsomest guy in school starts kissing you, there's no way you can resist, no matter the circumstances. I know he’s tipsy, and he has a girlfriend, and kissing my best friend's brother is a bad idea for a lot of reasons, but I don't care.

I place my elbows on his shoulders and dig my nails into his thick dark brown hair like I’ve always wanted to do.

He kisses me slowly at first, as if experimenting with how it feels, sucking one lip and then the other, brushing his hands slowly over my body.

And then his kisses become more confident, faster, and hungrier as if he can't get enough of kissing me.

I let myself moan into his mouth, losing myself in that kiss. I involuntarily press closer to him, brushing my breasts against his muscular chest.

And that's when I feel the hardness pocking through his pants, hitting my belly.

"I'm sorry..." He breaks away rapidly, taking a step back and jerking his arms away from me. "I'm so sorry." I see regret mixed with sadness in his eyes.

And then someone calls for him, and he walks away, apologizing one more time and promising that it won't ever happen again.

And I stand there, in the kitchen, for who knows how long, thinking about that kiss. It was the most beautiful kiss I could even imagine, but what did I do wrong? Why did Ben say that it would never happen again? Is it because he is dating someone else?

He broke up with his girlfriend a couple of weeks after that, but nothing changed. He never touched me again, and we never spoke about it.

The following school year, Ben went to college and moved out of his house to live in a dorm with the guys from his team.

We never talked about what happened that night.

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