“With your tongue?” she whispers back, her smile as bright as the fluorescent lights out in the hall.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Not yet.”

With my free hand, I reach up and swipe my thumb across her bottom lip, smearing her red lip gloss.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her mouth moving under my finger.

“Taking off this lipstick stuff.”

“Why?” She’s turned the volume of her voice down to secret.

“Because I like your lips the way they always are.”

Her smile dwindles into a straight line, and the laughter drains from her eyes. I trace her top lip with my index finger, swiping until the red tint of gloss is mostly gone. Even after there’s barely color left, I touch her mouth unnecessarily, so soft and pillowy. I should feel self-conscious or nervous or weird. It’s my first kiss, after all, but I don’t. It feels, instead, like I’m walking up to a moment that’s been waiting on me all my life. Since we were both born on the same day in different cities. Since Mrs. Allen plopped Kimba into the tub with me before we could even talk.

I lean forward and press my mouth to hers, tentative in case she pulls away. Holding my breath because even the effort of breathing might detract from this place between our lips that deserves all my concentration. We’re still for a second or two, my lips resting against hers, our eyes open.

“Aren’t we supposed to close our eyes?” she whispers, the words cool across my lips.

“Yeah. On the count of three, we’ll close.”

She nods.

“One,” I say, not looking away from her. “Two. Three.”

Her lashes, dark and long with mascara, fall, but I cheat because I don’t want to miss any of it.

Eyes still closed, she says, “Kayla said we’re supposed to use our tongues.”

I press my mouth to hers and slide my tongue across her bottom lip. Her eyes pop open.

“Did I do it wrong?” I ask quickly.

“I don’t know, but I liked it.”

She liked it.

I gently squeeze her fingers and lean in again, pressing our lips together. I don’t know if she means to do it, or if it’s a mistake, but her mouth opens and my tongue slips inside. Hesitantly, our tongues touch, stroke, and something sweet and sharp cuts down the center of my body. I wonder if she feels it, too. We both go still, looking into each other’s eyes for a few seconds.