Kaleidoscope

i

The days following after that blissful kiss were like torture. By now, I'd realized Boris and I decided that, instead of facing our huge problems—together or not—it was better option to run away from them until the sank to the lake of conversation's bottom. I hated it, I had loved the kiss and wished it stayed around the whole night, leaving our lips both swollen and amazing.

The thought alone sent a ripple of shudders up my spine, and I felt small bumps of goosebumps raise on my sun-kissed skin. My room seemed to be getting hotter, though I assumed it was my tv because of the constant, repetitive usage of SOS Iceberg over the few hours. I'd replayed it multiple times while trying to grasp the concept of what happened at least three-no, four—four nights ago.

I'd—We'd kissed. Holy shit.