Page 96 of Let's Kiss and Tell

I look over at him. His perfectly coiffed hair, those fuck-me glasses, and his stupid boyfriend button-down folded over his forearms. “Yeah, just work stuff.”

“I’m going to fill the tank. There’s a spot at the next exit that’s always cheap. You want anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

We park at a little gas station in the middle of nowhere close to Fresno. As I sit in the car, my eyes stay glued to the window, watching Marsh’s every move. While we can absolutely go through the weekend without kissing, Jonah’s right: Keeping up this charade for the next two and a half weeks feels like a kiss atsome pointis inevitable. Whether it be today, tomorrow, or at the wedding.

I think about my column. The whole point is to build out a narrative that makes readers believe I’m in a committed relationship. I can’t do that if I don’t even know what it’s like to kiss my boyfriend.

“Ughhh,” I groan and squirm in my seat.

I watch Marsh coming out of the gas station, swirling his hands together with hand sanitizer. I huff and swing the door open, shutting it harder than I expected, and meet him in front of the car.

“Kiss me,” I demand.

He blinks. “What?”

“Kiss me,” I repeat.

He lets out a little laugh like I’m not being so dead serious right now.

“Oh.” He stops. “You’re not joking?”

“No.” I pivot and lean on my other leg.

“I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to—”

“Yeah, I thought so too but we’re going to have to kiss atsome point,right? And I don’t want to be caught off guard in front of your friends and family. So, let’s just do it now.”

“Lucy, I’m not kissing you in front of a gas station.”

Marsh tries to take a step past me, but I stop him.

“Well, you’re not kissing me for the first time tonight. So, deal with it.”

We look at each other, and it’s pretty clear that I’m not budging until we do this.

“Fine,” he says.

Wait, did he just sayfine?

Before I can clarify, he takes a step closer. One hand cups the side of my face, while the other wraps around the small of my back, pressing my body against his. His lips tentatively hover over mine, and then he softly kisses me. It’s tender, but my body melts into his. I feel like molten glass on a blowpipe, slowly being shaped. He’s pulling me in and yet I can’t get enough of him.

This is a real fucking kiss. It feels like a centrifugal motion. This is what Faith Hill was talking about.

After what feels like not nearly long enough, Marsh pulls back and quickly sucks his lips in.

“Anything else?” he asks.

“N-no…” I say softly. “I think we’re good.”

He nods and then makes his way back to the driver’s side of the car.

Oh, we are so not good right now.Fuck.

For the next fifteen minutes, Marsh doesn’t bring up the kiss.

I certainly don’t bring up the kiss.