Just a kiss scene

Izumi’s round, chocolatey eyes are wide as water dribbles down the various curves of her chubby cheeks. Her small, plump lips part slightly to reveal two, pearly white buck teeth. The shock of the trip disjoints her from the reality of the cold water dripping from her drenched clothes.

I hook a hand around her elbow and pull her close to soak in some of her much needed warmth.

“This,” her voice is shaky,”—is so awesome!”

The heat from her body disappears as she trails after Hina’s yellow figure in the distance. Before the poor spirit can even begin to predict what might occur next, Izumi has tackled her into a tight hug that is only relieved when Izumi has had her fill.

I follow the commotion with a tentativeness I thought I had forgotten months ago. I watch my friend carefully, and immediately, I’m transported to a different moment in time. Back in Japan, in the school halls, when her supple hands cupped mine. The classroom, at the back, beside the window, the sun pouring in like a spotlight on her round, red lips. The smell of soup on her breath as she blew in frustration about the grade she had received on her test. The way the fat beneath her eyes bunched up when she spoke of the boy who saved her from a ball yesterday. The glint in her eyes when she spoke of love.

The plastic bag wrapped loosely around my wrist slams repeatedly against my calf. My sneakers protect my feet from the rough, rubicund desert plains below, as if I might be walking on air. I keep my eyes trained on Izumi. She cannot see me, though I wish she did. Her thick hair sways in the slight breeze, and her thick, round fingers curl gracefully as she moves. She parts from Hina, and there is nary a stumble in the act. Her feet almost flutter with every step.

Kai is an idiot. A big idiot. He’s so lucky.

My cheeks feel hot. Why are they hot? And my stomach, it twists with such force that I’m sure I could throw up.

“You okay?”

I jolt.

Izumi is close now. I can smell the scent of cherry perfume. The kind she sprays on each page of her diary because she finds the action “romantic.” Her red lips are glossy. They look like they taste like cherry.

I shake myself from the trance and hold up my bag of crinkling cans. I reach in and pull out red crème soda I had bought a couple days ago with Hina’s help. Izumi had always gone on and on about trying American snacks. I jostle the bag. “I brought something.”

With much haste, she takes the soda in her palms. “Great.” The can hisses quietly, then clucks as Izumi opens it up and downs it. She smacks her lips together, eyebrows set low on her face, clearly thinking awfully hard about the flavor of the soda. “Tastes like juice,” she notes. Izumi turns to me and shoves the drink beneath my nose. “You try some.”

I softly push it away and dig into my own bag for my own drink. I tilt the can to her in a silent gesture before cracking it open to take one long sip of the soda.

All the while, I can feel Izumi’s eyes trained on me, mouth frozen over the open, fizzing hole in her can.

I smile, grimace as the soda prickles at my throat on the way down and then raise my eyebrows toward her. “Good. Right?”

Whatever trance had struck her, she shook herself from it and lowered her gaze to her drink. Her fingers tap the sides of the can. A new aura accompanies her. One different from the bursting energy that flaunts in her every step. It’s almost as if the basicness of reality had settled around her, and she welcomed it in.

“Is this about, Ninomiya Kai?”

She shakes her head, a soft smile flickering on her lips. “It’s just…I thought this was it. I had met the love of my life, but it’s kinda silly when you think about it.” She sheepishly rubs the back of her head.

“No. It’s not.” I step closer to her.

Izumi laughs, “I’m kind of delusional.”

“I like that,” I bark back, “-I like that about you. It makes you charming.” God. Why are my cheeks so hot? Why is it hard to look her in the eyes? Why is her warmth suffocating me, but in a good way?

When reality finally returns to me, I notice her gaze had dropped down to the rim of the soda can. Her fingers are fiddling with the metallic knob nearly twisted from place. “What if…I’m not meant for love?”

I grab her by the shoulders, which prompts her eyes to meet mine. Of course, with those giant, golden orbs trained so specially on me it’s hard to focus. Sometimes, my eyes flicker to the ground, and a long stutter tumbles from my lips, “No. That’s not true.” For once, I’m glad she is solely focused on me, because I want her to see me, really see me. “Izumi, you’re the most wonderful, beautiful, and intelligent girl I know. You’re, like, an enigma. Any guy would be lucky to have you, and if you did fall in love…” My eyes fall from her face to the floor to the lips, extra red from the dye in the cream soda. They probably taste sweet. I force my gaze back toward her eyes only to find my sights unmatched. Her stare is captured on my face, but somewhere lower.

“Finish. Finish your sentence,” she whispers lowly.

I heave in. “If you did fall in love…the magic would be you.”

A strange energy pulls us closer to each other until our lips meet. The water dripping from our skin mixes and swells as my lips move in perfect sync with hers. Just as I had imagined, she tastes like red crème soda. My hands snake around her shoulders and pull her closer. Red crème soda is my favorite. And I’m not sure when, but my breath runs dry, and we have to pull away for air, and despite the cold water cloaking me so dutifully, my whole body is flushed with heat. I want to throw up. Because what if she hated it. But she’s smiling, slight blush strewn across her cheeks.

My heart stops, making me realize it was racing earlier.

I bend my neck to press my forehead against hers.

She laughs.

It makes me laugh. Then, I press my lips to hers again.