Page 34 of First Kiss with a Mothman

“Is it weird that I’m touching your wings?” I ask between kisses.

“No. You’re not hurting me.” He steps back, and I immediately miss his warmth. “But I need to use them to tell the bugs to leave.”

“Yeah. Stop being voyeurs,” I announce, and we both laugh. After a beat, he bats his wings, and the buzzing sounds die down.

“Alright. They’re gone.”

“Sweet. I’ll, um, call for Reginald.” The moment is over, so I bend down to put away my violin.

“We can, like, get lunch on the way home.”

He sounds awkward, and I fear he’s regretting this perfect moment we’ve shared. “Sure, but first…” I reach for him and wrap one arm around his shoulders again. Fishing out my phone from my pocket, I say, “We need to commemorate this trip.”

“How so?”

I unlock my phone and say, “Open. Camera app.”

It clicks on, and I command it to be in selfie mode. Then, I snap a picture of Mort and me. “I barely have any photos on my phone.”

“I mean, do they do much for you?”

“No. But one day I might want them for sentimental reasons.” I scratch my head. “One day if I ever get my own place. Visual people get totems of memories; why can’t I?”

“That’s fair.”

“Maybe I’ll get a photo developed as an etching, with raised texture, something I can feel. I can look at people’s faces, touch them, and see the memory, so to speak.”

“That would be sweet.”

“Can I touch your face?” He pauses, and I immediately regret my words. “I’m sorry. Was that cringe of me to ask?”

“No, it’s cool.”

“I thought that since we…”

“You can.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” He places my hands on his cheeks, and I stroke the soft fuzz. I recall him being brownish-green, and I luxuriate in the feel of my fingertips on him. When I trace his lips, he kisses my hand, and we share a giggle. I never want today to end.

Even if I could never see, I know the first boy I’ve ever kissed is the most handsome person on the planet.

When we get back to campus, he might regret all this. So, I take advantage of the moment. I get on my tiptoes and kiss Mort again, moaning as he holds my waist and kisses me back.

The drive home was both uneventful and fulfilling all at once. We mostly listened to music. We kept conversation light on the road, and we went to a gas station diner for a simple lunch. Mort assisted me to the bathroom, and he continued his streak of being gentlemanly. I can tell he’s even growing fond of Reginald, my protector. A moth and bird as friends—who could’ve imagined that?

I wanted to touch his hands while he drove, but I held back, unsure of how far we were going today in our developing relationship―as friends, or something else.

But it’s early evening now, and we’re back at my dorm. After unlocking and opening the door, Reginald swiftly flies off my shoulder to perch on top of my wardrobe. I shut the unlocked door and step forward, then I turn around to Mort and smile. Somehow, I know he’s grinning at me.

Our day-long adventure is over, and I don’t dare consider this my first date. When Mort, or anyone, wants to date me, I want it to be super clear. I want to be wanted.

And I want to be wanted by the mothman in front of me. My hand twitches to hold his, but I choose to grip my walking stick. “I…had a lot of fun today.”

“I’m really glad.” His voice is so sincere. And masculine and sexy.

“The sunshine on my face. I won’t forget it.”