Drabble: When She Knew
She wondered, and worried a little bit about, what it would taste like.
Was it like tasting what the other one had had for lunch? What if she didn’t taste right? What if she didn’t do it right?
This was her first time - her first everything: first boy to capture her heart, first time to try to get someone interested in her (ambition had always consumed everything before), first time to go after another girl’s guy.
First romance; first love,
And her first kiss.
She knew it wasn’t his first anything. He was the quarterback; all the girls were after him; he was dating Quinn Fabray.
She might be a disappointment, a let-down, when it came dating, to the physical stuff, to getting someone to like her.
If it was singing or performing, there was no question that she’d blow everyone away. But this was uncharted territory, where everything for her was new and uncertain and there were no guarantees of success.
She might do it wrong. She might taste all wrong. Maybe this was wrong.
Maybe she shouldn’t have invited him.
Maybe she was setting herself up for heartbreak.
Maybe he’d laugh in her face, go tell his girlfriend, and give all of the popular kids even more reason to hate her and to mock her.
Maybe. But she didn’t think he would.
She didn’t sense that he was that kind of guy, despite who he hung out with. He didn’t seem like that kind of guy. He didn’t sing like that kind of guy.
And she saw something in his eyes - something in the way they looked at her, something in the way they lingered on her eyes, her hair, her lips.
Something in the way his voice kind of stuttered and became shy when she put her hand on his chest, in the way it warmed and soared when they sang together.
Something in the way his hand caressed her arm and waist in the movements of their dance.
Something was there that told her she wouldn’t be making a fool of herself.
So she asked him.
And he said he wanted to.
And she moved back to the pillows. And he moved with her.
And his arms circled her body as he gently laid her down.
And he slowly settled over her, bending his head toward hers, his eyes roaming over her face.
And she closed her eyes, feeling his breath warming her forehead, her cheeks, her chin; breathing in the faint scent of cosmos and of boy and of girl in the closing space between them. She felt his body gently pressing against hers as she raised one knee up by their sides.
And she wondered again what it would taste like in the final moments before his lips - so soft, so full, so gentle - closed the remaining space between them.
His lips moved upon hers for a timeless moment, pulled slightly back, and then returned with more intensity, more insistence, as hers moved upon his in return.
And it was beautiful. It was glorious. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was utterly right.
And she did taste cosmos. And what she thought might have been cool ranch Doritos. And maybe a hint of cinnamon gum.
But more than any of that, she tasted something else.
She tasted forever.
It was all there - her life laid out before her, their life laid out before them, her a star and him by her side, a star in his own right - everything, all there.
Forever was there in his kiss.
And she knew, whether he did or not - whether he’d admit it to himself or not - that what was between them was real, was lasting, and wasn’t ever going away.
It only took one kiss to know what the rest of her life would look like.
And each time afterward when she kissed him, for the rest of their lives, she took a moment as they pulled apart to savor the taste of forever - still as sweet, still as potent, still as fresh as the first time - on her lips.