(Malory)
Kyle sits beside me on the couch… in complete silence.
I’m still trying to process everything he’s just told me.
I puff out a breath and awkwardly fidget with my hands.
“We… kissed,” I say. “No, we didn’t kiss. We… more than kissed.”
He nods. “Funny,” he scratches the back of his neck, “The things people do when they’re drunk, right?” He laughs awkwardly.
I mimic the laugh, “Yea,” I fidget with my hands and bite my lip.
I’d forgotten how much of a good kisser Kyle I thought Kyle was in that moment.
Wait, no. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking. Stop thinking.
I turn to him. He turns to me.
“I mean, it was fun, though,” I said, awkwardly.
“It was our first interaction that didn’t end with us beating each other up, actually,” he says.
“No, our first interaction like that would have been you holding my hand when I came over to your house,” I correct him.
His mouth forms an O. “Right, right. I... I forgot about that.”