The 12th Kiss

❁you are my air

❁you are my air

[eleven years prior]

                It was sunset time. The grass bellowed with the wind, rustling as it went. At the west harbor, the men were unloading their catch from the day. The sea whipped back and forth. The skies  darkened. Sparkling like those beautiful, proud denizens in the sky, the sunlight danced off the water. 

                The best part of going to a college by the sea was the beauty. The oceans, the tolling of the bells, the flashing of the light house, the early morning shouts of fishers, it was all so entrancing. What was more enchanting than that?

 Nothing.

 Maybe there was one thing. Falling in love for the very first time.

                “There is this girl,” John whispered. He and Metilda sat on the deck by the sea. Their feet dipped in the water. “And my friend loves her like hell. She gorgeous, smart but well, my friend is quite good looking too but he’s scared to ruin their friendship. You know love messes everything up. I don’t know what to tell him. He’s screwed. He can’t love her, he can’t be just friends with her,”

                “He should just tell her how he feels. Kiss and tell. That would be so sweet,” Metilda clasped her hands together. She was such a hopeless romantic. “Friends turned lovers, the perfect dream.”

                “So he should just kiss her?”

Metilda nodded. Her excitement resembled a small child’s.

                “Kiss the life out of her.”

“Are you sure?”

                “Absolutely!”

John got on his knees and kissed Metilda. Her lips were cold, soft, and sweet of the strawberry jam she had eaten.

Metilda’s eyes widened. One minute John was sitting next to her, the next he was holding her arms behind her back and kissing her like she was the only piece of air left.

A fire burned so bright behind Metilda’s fingertips. In the shocked state, she knocked John off her. He lost his balance and fell into the chilly blue sea.

Unfortunately, John didn’t know how to swim. He gurgled the saline ocean water, his arms collided with the water. Drops of ocean surrounded Metilda. She jumped into the ocean and her arm under John’s shoulders. Having lived by the sea all her life, Metilda was an excellent swimmer.

                She dragged John and herself to the sandy shore.

John’s lips quivered. His skin had turned a light blue. “Th-that was a cold rejection.”

                “I can warm it up if you’d like.” There was a playful smirk in Metilda’s eyes as she kissed the corners of John’s lips and John felt air return to his lungs.

❁❁❁

            When Metilda kissed John at the dinner table the following day, he felt air return to his lungs. He felt alive at once. Every nerve, fiber, cell in his body was rejoicing in joy. It had been exactly twenty-eight hours since she had last kissed him. The festival inside his body quietened when he realized there were only seven kisses left.

Metilda left the dining room to tuck Louis into bed. And John was left alone to clean the table and dishes.

❁❁❁