Looking For Space // Josh Kiszka

IV

The kiss kept replaying over and over in my mind all weekend, taunting me. I could still feel Josh's hand wrapped around my wrist, the slight pressure of his fingers right over my pulse, and the tenderness of his lips on mine, light as two rose petals against my fingertips. With it playing on a loop in my mind, relentless and tiring, I decided I should avoid him as much as I could.

After Steve let us out of class the following Monday I bolted, swinging my backpack over my shoulder and merely waving goodbye to Bev, who raised an eyebrow at me. But as I made my way down the hall I heard Josh's distinct voice behind me.

"Hey, wait," he said and, before I could stop myself, I turned around. "When are we gonna work on the poem?"

"I'm kind of busy today." That was a lie. "Just email me what else you've done and we'll go from there."

He pursed his lips in a scowl. "That's not gonna work."

"Well, it'll have to," I pressed, false haste evident in my tone. "I don't have time today."

"I know for a fact you don't have a class right now," he retorted.

I turned again to face him, taken aback by his boldness. "Oh?"

He started to walk, moving past me, looking over his shoulder when he was a few feet away and I, with a self-loathing sigh, reluctantly followed. He led me over the bridge and down the stairs to the eastern courtyard, ducking underneath and behind the staircase.

"Did I upset you the other night?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"No, Josh, it's not--" I paused, bringing my hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. "I don't know."

"What don't you know?"

I felt overwhelmed and I wanted to cry, though I still wasn't entirely sure what about, but I knew that being under the bridge and hidden by the stairs was only making me feel even more trapped.

"Is this all a joke?" I asked, lowering my hand. "I know you're like, a class clown or whatever but if this is all just one big joke, I'll fucking--"

He grabbed my face and pulled me in, his lips crashing into mine, far less gentle than the last time. I let it happen for a couple seconds, taking in the softness of his skin, before I put my hand against his chest and pushed him back. It wasn't that I really wanted to push him away. It was just instinct.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked.

I wiped the leftover dampness of his saliva on my lips with the back of my hand. "You could try asking to kiss someone." That belligerence was also a lie. I didn't care that he hadn't asked.

"Good advice." His face softened. "Did I upset you?"

I shook my head, and managed to be honest for a moment: "No."

He was quiet, staring at me, then asked, "Are you really too busy to work on the poem now?"

I nodded, lying again.

He sighed. "Okay, well then, I guess I'll email you." He reached out and stroked my hand with his fingers, once again as light as rose petals gracing my skin. "See you later."

When he walked away I turned around, pressing my back against the side of the stairs, further removing myself from the courtyard. When I lifted my arm, my hand was shaking. I dropped it to my side and exhaled. Maybe it wasn't a joke but it still felt like one--Josh being fascinated by me? What the hell did that even mean? I was still so thrown by my own discombobulated feelings to even try and dig into that further.