Don't Wait

The worst part of the fall is the way your stomach drops when you realise what’s about to happen. The split second between realising you’re going to fall and falling, before actually hitting the ground, is probably the worst feeling that isn’t physical pain ever; after grief and heartbreak of course.

Stephen had taken us to a disused parking lot after we finished our ice creams; in hopes that skateboarding would be easier for me if on flat surfaces, away from all the other guys looking at me like scum almost.

It was nice here, quiet. It was just us except the occasional person cutting through the parking lot as a shortcut. He was sweet, he didn’t laugh when I fell off time after time. He took my hand to pull me up and told me I’d get better, that I was doing great. His lies helped.
This fall felt like it’d been harder than the others. My whole body was flung forwards and I flew for a second before slamming painfully into the concrete covered ground. I’m not exactly sure how I managed such a spectacular fall, and Stephen had been skating in the opposite direction at the time and missed it.

It took me a few seconds to muster up the strength to turn over onto my back. I ached all over, everything hurt. It even hurt to blink. I kept my eyes closed for that reason for a while, but I heard Stephen’s skateboard stop and then his footsteps running towards me and my eyes opened out of instinct, staring up at him as he drew closer. Even when his face was contorted with worry, he was still pretty much the hottest guy I’d ever talked to.

“Are you okay?” he choked out after a few seconds. He was now crouching over me, his knees pressed against my arm. If I didn’t hurt so much at that moment, I probably would’ve gone crazy with sexual tension, but it wasn’t the first thing on my mind at that point.

“My lips hurt,” I mumbled, hoping he’d understand what I was talking about. I wasn’t really sure what possessed me to say it; I blame the adrenaline rush that hit when I fell.

“What?” Stephen’s face was now crinkled with confusion, rather than worry, his cute little nose wrinkled as he waited for me to explain.

“My lips hurt,” I mumbled again “so you should kiss them better.” The second I said it I felt like a fool. Fuck, I was a fool; a stupid, dumbass, fuckup fool.

His face cleared when I explained and he let out a soft giggle, leaning closer towards me. His elbow was now touching my chest, his longer than normal fringe tickling bare skin on the side of my face. Was he really going to kiss me? What if it wasn’t as good as I always imagined?

His soft, still slightly ice creamy lips pressed against mine and everything I worried about seemed suddenly unimportant because the gorgeous guy that I’d been obsessing over for weeks was practically on top of me, his lips moving against mine.

He pulled back after a couple of seconds, taking a quick breath that tickled my face before moving his lips against mine once again.

It was so much better than I’d imagined.