#crashtos

Technically, it wasn't weird for Victoria to be staring at Trinity's hands because, technically, they were on a date. By Victoria's estimation, it had even gone well. Was going well? She wasn't sure if the date was nearing its end. They were leaving the restaurant, and leaving implied a sort of ending, but sometimes dates continued, right? Victoria's thoughts snagged on that idea, that the date might last longer. She hadn't planned for that, but maybe she should have? Maybe she wanted the night to last a little longer?

Anyway.

By all accounts it shouldn't be weird to stare at your date's hands but — Victoria did a quick internal check—yeah, she felt weird. And distracted. But mostly weird.

"I don't usually ask people this," Trinity was saying (she snapped her stare onto Trinity's face she was paying attention she was definitely paying attention to what Trinity was saying and not to what her hands might be doing.)

"You're going to ask me something?" Victoria interrupted, mostly to halt her own train of thought.

"Yeah," Trinity's brow furrowed and Victoria felt a little spike of adrenaline sizzle through her. She'd done or said something wrong. Every cell in her body braced for what Trinity might say next.

"I don't want to make this weirder than it sounds, but: you have been kissed before, right?"

"Oh," Victoria laughed. "Totally. Um, yeah, totally, I've been kissed."

Totally.

A few times even.

Some of them even technically counted as real kisses if you squinted.

Her first kiss had been in kindergarten, before she'd been skipped a grade or three for being good at sharing (and for reading well above her peers). She remembered that his name had been Jonathan. She remembered that he had a lot of freckles and liked playing at the sand station in their classroom. She couldn't remember kissing him except that she'd gotten in trouble for it. Had had a letter sent home and everything for precocious behaviour unbecoming of a four-year old.

Not that it mattered: Jonathan's family moved to Florida in June that year and Victoria moved up to grade three, where everyone was so much older than she was. If she was included at all, it was as a curiosity.

Her next first kiss had been a sleepover dare. It had been Victoria's first sleepover in ages (mortifyingly, one of her high school classmates had convinced her younger sister to invite her over). Olivia's mouth had tasted like popcorn butter and warm Coke. According to Olivia, Victoria had tasted like bad breath. This, of course, she'd announced to everyone, to a chorus of derisive little-girl giggles. After everyone else had gone to sleep, sprawled in piles of blankets and sleeping bags and soft limbs on the floor, Victoria had crept to the bathroom and had brushed and brushed her teeth until she'd spat pink spit into the sink. Then she'd called her mom to pick her up.

She didn't get kissed in undergrad. No one had wanted to touch her.

She did kiss the Blarney stone once, on a family trip. But no one ever laughed when she listed that one like it was a real kiss.

Trinity was still there, still in front of her, looking at her a little doubtfully. What she said next could change everything. She had to consider this carefully. She had to say something cool and smooth and convincing.

"So are you gonna kiss me or what?" her mouth said instead. She forced herself to laugh again.

Trinity looked startled.

"Well, yeah," she answered. 'But I was going to at least walk you back to your car first."

They were still standing at the doorway to the restaurant. Victoria's car was, like, ten feet away.

"Oh."

"It feels a little weird, now," Trinity kept her hands jammed into her pockets as they crossed the parking lot. "Like, you know what my move's gonna be now."

"You literally asked me if I'd ever been kissed," Victoria pointed out. "You were kind of telegraphing your move."

"I guess."

They reached Victoria's car and she considered just getting in and driving away, forgetting the whole thing.

But she stopped herself from pulling out her keys. Made herself turn to face Trinity.

"Well," she shrugged. "Ready when you are."

After all, Victoria had brushed her teeth before leaving the house in case she might be kissed because dental hygiene was important! She'd only had water to drink at the restaurant. She hadn't ordered the garlic bread. She'd had salad, leafy greens, no onions, light dressing.

She was pretty sure that she was ready. Or, rather, that her mouth was ready. Also: she was still kinda hungry.

That readiness evaporated when Trinity pressed her back against the side of her car, pressed her mouth against hers.

Trinity's lips were softer than she'd thought they'd be. Later, when she replayed the kiss and how it had felt, she'd think about it with the sort of longing she always felt watching girls passing tubes of lip gloss to each other, the casual intimacy of sharing something like that.

The kiss was sweet, but it didn't linger (Victoria wished it would). Before she pulled away, Trinity caught Victoria's lower lip between her teeth and bit down oh-so gently.

"Text me when you get home," she'd said, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. Then she'd left Victoria reeling, gone to find her own car.

On the drive home, at every red light, Victoria's fingertips would brush her lip, the feeling of Trinity's teeth already gone. She bit down on her own lip to recreate the feeling. It wasn't the same.