Nash didn't answer my questions. He barreled through the door and looked back like he would tug me along if I didn't keep up.
"What are you up to, Nash?" I asked, not entirely trusting the gleam in his eye. I didn't feel in danger, but the way he looked at me now made me nervous.
"You told me to make today's lesson a good one, so I am."
I skipped forward to his side. That sounded much tamer than his expression made our plans seem.
He waited until I was right next to him before continuing. "I'm teaching you how to kiss."
***
I wasn't sure how we made it back. I spent the whole walk in a fog, convincing myself Nash couldn't mean what I thought he'd meant, while wondering what in the heck he could've meant instead.
But walking into my apartment cleared the fog. I was being silly. Yes, I was inexperienced, but I wasn't a bumbling, doe-eyed, spring flower. If Nash wanted to impart some kissing wisdom, we were two grown adults. We could do that. "Can I get you anything to drink? Probably not coffee. I've got juice, water…" I opened my fridge. The need to offer Nash as many options as possible grew until it was an unignorable beast inside me.
The fridge door swung closed, and I popped my head up. Nash stood on the other side, pushing it closed. "I'm not thirsty."
Had he gotten taller? Had it also gotten hotter in my apartment? I abandoned the fridge and rushed toward the window. The windows hadn't been opened since the first day when I'd aired the place out. Even then, I didn't think this window had been one of the ones opened. It refused to budge. I peeked over my shoulder. Nash stood at the line between the kitchen and the carpeted space. He leaned on the counter, bracing much of his weight against his elbow, watching me with a smirk on his face.
"It's just a little wonky," I muttered, throwing my full weight behind opening the window while trying to make it seem like I was barely trying.
"It's not warm to me."
I refused to look at him while my cheeks blazed a bright red. "Well, you're wearing less clothes."
Technically, he was wearing a tank top while I wore a T-shirt.
"If you don't want to do the lesson—"
I spun around. "I do!" He smirked more, and I rushed to cover my exuberance. "I mean, you can't feel like you owe me for the rest of your life."
"Right." His smirk fell. "I need to settle our score. Come sit next to me, Phin. I can't kiss you from there."
No, he couldn't. And I wanted to be kissed. But not to learn. Because of Nash. I wanted to kiss Nash. For that reason alone, I should have put a stop to things. It wouldn't be fair to Nash. He'd be kissing me for educational purposes, and I'd be kissing him to satisfy a fantasy. I dropped my hands from the window. My shoulders drooped with indecision until a thought struck me, and I stood straight. "I should brush my teeth. Wasn't that your first lesson? Clean house, clean mouth."
I sprinted down the hallway into the bathroom and gripped the counter as I stared at myself in the mirror. "What is your problem, Phineas Peters? He just wants to teach you to kiss. Man up! Just two bros learning to kiss. Well, Nash already knows how to kiss. He's going to teach you, Phin, and you aren't going to make this weird."
I pointed at my reflection. I'd already made the situation kind of weird.
"At the least, you won't make this any weirder." I grabbed my toothbrush, pleased I had the presence of mind to make sure my alibi for running away in the first place was intact. Five out of five doctors would be disappointed that I didn't brush for the entire prescribed two minutes, but after about thirty seconds, I was too excited and had to stop. I stared at myself again, feeling calmer. At least I had this space where I could hide away, unheard and unseen. "You can do this, Phin. Go out there, kiss him, and pretend you don't want more."
When I opened the door, Nash was halfway down the hallway. My heart dropped. Had he heard me? No, he was still too far down to have been able to hear through the door—unless he had some kind of super hearing. "You okay? I was coming to check on you."
"I'm fine. All brushed. Ready for… the lesson."
"Good, let's get started." He waved me back.
My toes dragged all the way to the couch. I wasn't not excited at the idea of kissing Nash; I just wasn't a stupid man. I knew what this would do, how it would make me feel. I also didn't think the same thoughts and feelings would pop up in Nash.
Like an addict, I wanted the high of his lips against mine more than I cared about the unavoidable fallout.
We sat side by side on the couch. He'd sat first, and I'd taken the other end, but he looked at the space between us with an arched eyebrow. "We're gonna need to be a little closer than that."
I licked my lips nervously. "Is that the first lesson?"
Nash leaned over. His green eyes, normally a darker forest green, glowed brightly. He never blinked or looked away. "It can be. Step one in kissing, get close enough to kiss." He scooted as he spoke until our hips nearly touched. He rotated at the waist, facing me, and I did the same, feeling the arm of the couch digging into my spine.
This close, I was even more aware of every imposing inch of him. I'd always had a thing for guys out of my league. Reg had said it was a defense mechanism. My opinion was that I was just shallow and enjoyed the muscles. But now that I'd spent a few days with Nash, I'd realized the worst possible thing. He wasn't just some dumb jock—he was an actual, real-life hero.
His face was closer now, but he didn't make another move. He lingered, watching my eyes, my lips.
Soon, the tension was too much for me to sit through silently. "What's step two? Actually, how many steps are there? I might want to take notes." I lurched forward, but Nash stopped me, pushing me back gently against the couch.
"No notes," he murmured. "And no more stalling. Step two is build-up. The perfect first kiss will happen only after the kissee has been thinking and wondering about it. Sit close, and speak quietly, gently."
He demonstrated as he spoke, and I could confirm: when his tone dipped to that low, honeyed register, a ripple of need vibrated through me.
"You'll want to already be touching them a lot. Running your hands up their arms, cupping their face."
The soft flesh of his thumb brushed over my bottom lip, and I gasped. Instantly, I searched his face, but he didn't look at all irritated by my show of authentic emotion. "Then what?" I whispered. "You kiss?"
He shook his head, tsking me softly. "Patience. Never be in a hurry. That's step three."
He dropped his hand from my face to my shoulder, and my tongue flicked out to lick my bottom lip. "Got it."
My nostrils flared as I attempted to bring in oxygen to my deprived brain. I couldn't concentrate on anything but his lips, the way they moved closer, the way they flexed and pressed together as he spoke. Enough time had passed, so I wasn't quite as on edge. This was clearly just a lesson and—
His lips pressed against mine.
I made a noise: half surprised yelp, half wanton moan. His mouth was as perfect as I feared. The kiss was sweet but restrained. Gentle. He cupped my face, seemingly content to continue what he was doing forever. He never pushed for more and didn't stick his tongue down my throat, and I appreciated that. This was a first kiss after all, and first kisses should be sweet. Except, by the time he opened his eyes and looked at me, I wanted more.