Forgotten (A Troyler Short Story)

It kind of just happened. There wasn't anything memorable leading up to it, nothing that could be considerably noteworthy if you weren't paying close attention to all of the details. He was the one who took action. I was too shocked to do anything. My thoughts were moving so fast that they may as well have not existed, the images and words blurring together too much to grasp a clear thought in the process.
I wished I done something. Anything. It would've saved a lot of regrets.
I should've told him the truth. Hell, I should've just kissed him back. Lord knows that what I wanted to do, after all.
We never spoke of it again. We acted like nothing happened. There weren't regrets, but there were no encouragements, either. I don't know how he felt about what happened. I don't know exactly why he did it, either. To see if I was gay, probably. It's not like he actually wanted to kiss me, especially since he never did again.
The memory was put away, long gone.
Or so I thought.
Smut Warning