TWO DUTCHIES KISSING ??

THE NEAR CONFESSION WITH 'JOOST KLEIN'

It's funny, he probably didn't have much to say–but he was red. You were red. Both of you were sweating and he was fidgeting with his hands. He tried for a minute to speak, but it was incredibly awkward; he tried again, and failed; and then, he looked you right in the eyes.

"I really admire you. You're super cool." He awkwardly smiles towards you.

You get redder at that–but that wasn't what you thought he was going to say. It didn't sound like what he would say, but you didn't want to push him. You smile back at him and lean into a hug. "I admire you too–you're the coolest person I know." You won't question him; you'll just play your own mindfuck of a game.

"How about we go and gaze already? It's dark outside," You caress his arm; all you want to do at that moment is kiss him, but if you decide to play around with him, you know he will get embarrassed. "Unless you want to watch TV inside, I'd be open to that."

He braces himself from the sudden contact, but not in a scared way, he seems incredibly flustered from what he was previously going to say. "Let's go, lemme grab the blanket..." You smirk and lean against his car.

"Do you have a bottle of water? It's ok if you don't, I'm just thirsty." You don't know why your voice projected so well now, how you spoke so confidently, all you could do was whisper and stutter for the last few days. He's the nervous one now, though–he just looks at you and nods, hiding the smile on his face.

And so, he grabs the picnic blanket and walks up to his front door, dropping the neatly folded blanket on the front step. He takes off his shoes before he enters, and you follow close behind him, doing the same. He keeps the lights off, it's just grabbing water, but it's a beautiful scene. Dark and quiet, no houses near you, and all you could hear was the light rustling of the wind.

You don't want to speak, and you think he doesn't want to either–he seems delighted to be around you, and you are on cloud nine watching the most beautiful aspects of earth unfold around you. He reaches for a glass, and for some reason–not a reflex, you've never been in a relationship, nor an urge, you weren't thinking heavily about doing this beforehand–you hug him from behind, tight. He freezes and clenches up. You'd think he hated what was happening if his hand didn't immediately reach to caress your arm, tightly enclosed around his lower waist.

The next few seconds had no movement, he just relaxed into your arms. Then, he turned around and you loosened your grip to allow him to turn, and–he's staring at your eyes, down your nose, and then, your lips. You couldn't tell if you were red, you couldn't tell what you felt, you couldn't even tell if you were actually alive or having a dream about Joost, but all you could feel was your racing heart and his hand softly creep up your face. It's warm and soft against your right cheek, and compared to the whirling winds of the cold outside, you would always accept this warmth from him, not in a physical sense necessarily, but in the way that you realize you're in love with him.

And the warmth in your heart towards him gets hotter and hotter, and soon, your heart is on fire. But the chilling wind blows your fire out–Joost takes his hand off your cheek, and the skin both of you were touching is separated. He jumps back and slams the glass on the counter. "Sorry, sorry..." His head is hanging in shame. "I'll get you that glass of water now."
You gulp and nod. All the confidence you had built up shattered, and now, you whisper. "Alright. Thank you." Your head is also hanging in shame, but a different kind of shame than Joost's. "Sorry." He doesn't hear you.

The glass is shakingly handed to you, and he doesn't look you in the eyes. You finish your water, put the glass down, and he's immediately out to grab the blanket.

"Do you still want to do this?" He asks; his tone is cautious and he sounds like he might cry. Not that he was going to cry, but his voice was shaky.

"Of course–I love being around you so much–nothing happened, we can just stargaze." He's still looking at me with worried eyes, why couldn't he see you enjoyed it?

"You didn't do anything wrong," you walk towards him, closing the door behind you. "Whatever just happened, I don't know what happened, but I just..." All you can do is trail off. You will say something wrong–something too revealing or something too harsh. This would all be easier if the two of you were already dating.

His face regains some of the color from before, looking genuinely relieved. "Thank you," he says, taking a step and quickly hugging your head, before bending down and grabbing the blanket after letting go of you. Walking to the back of his house wasn't awkward, but more or so somber; the both of you feeling like you ruined the mood when truthfully, it opened his eyes and your eyes.

You're lying on the blanket, and he grabs your hand. "Is it normal to kiss your friends here?" You blurt out, you didn't mean to, but you were overthinking the many head and hand kisses from him.

"Uhh..." He trails off, genuinely sounding confused. "Yes, I guess. It's normal for me." He gets closer to you and presses his head against your shoulder. "Do you not like it? Is it weird for Finnish people?"

"No, no, I love it." You admit with true honesty. You had the ball in your court, and you knew how to win. "It is a bit weird for Finnish standards, but, I prefer this much more. I'm not used to affection." You let out a sigh, although you might be trying to get Joost to kiss you by using strange mental tactics, you are being genuine with your words. "It's weird, I'm almost 24, and I've never kissed anyone. I don't know what it feels like."

He's staring at you sharply after this–although you are staring at the sky, you can feel his ice eyes burn two holes through your brain. He debates what to say for a minute. "You're turning 24? When?" He smiles. Crisis averted , he thinks, but you can outplay him.

"Yes!! January, the 3rd," you start. "But think about it, it's truly pathetic how I haven't gotten a kiss ." You laugh, you might be laying on the implications too hard, but your brain is back on a full blast of confidence and all you can do is the stuff your brain is telling you to do.

"I feel you," he laughs a little, sitting up. You do the same. "It's been like, five months since I kissed someone." Five months is little to him? You feel your heart drop a bit.

"Who was it? Were you dating someone?"
"No, I haven't dated anyone in years." Phew. "It was Ski Aggu–you know him right? In the video of Friesenjung?" You vigorously nodded, and he looked more content with his awkwardness. Then, he gets closer to you, you were only a centimeter or two away from him.

He acted so unsure of something he was sure about–he leaned in but didn't grab you, but didn't seem like he regretted his actions. He lands a kiss on your lips, and your lips match up like a perfect puzzle piece, and it feels like those stupid cheesy romance movies where sparks fly everywhere.

Your heart swells, your face heats up, and you are close to dying from how content you are. This is what love feels like.

He winks. Life is bliss for that very moment.