Short & Sour

The Kiss

 A Hershey kiss.

Slightly melted from the heat of his pocket.

James balances the silver-wrapped chocolate delicately in his palm. Part of him wanted to devour it right when he got it—in the hallway, between sixth and seventh period, rays of sunshine flowing into the building in swathes, Ashwin's rough fingers gently touching his—and another part of him wanted to wait until he got home, to lock himself in his room and spend an hour giddy on the sugar.

He had settled for "in between." Under a tree on his way home from the bus stop.

He's here now.

The sky stretches above him like an endless, cloudless blue cloth draped lazily over the earth. Buds are just beginning to sprout on the tree he leans against, fragrant with the promise of leaves and life.

It is April.

"Can I have a kiss?"

James chuckles, remembering the history of his gooey candy. Ashwin had spun around wildly at his words, his eyes registering shock and his cheeks registering a slight heat before James acknowledged his misstep.

"Oh, sorry. I meant a Hershey kiss. The chocolate? For... for my sister."

Ashwin laughed lightly at that, though his incredulous look didn't fade away quite yet. His nimble fingers pulled at the hem of his colorful striped sweater—so heavy for the springy warmth of the day. "I thought you didn't have a sister, James."

"I, uh, don't." James bit his lip, analyzing the situation. Not that he could analyze much of anything: not with Ashwin's intense dark eyes staring him down, his casual lean on the lockers, the way the sunlight set his deep brown skin aglow.

All he wanted was a kiss.

A Hershey kiss, of course.

James knew Ashwin had some. He had seen him giving them out to his friends last period. Probably for Easter. Was Ashwin Christian? He didn't seem Christian. What does it mean to be Christian?

"And don't lie and say your brother wants one. I know he's allergic."

With these words, James snapped out of his thoughts and saw Ashwin digging around in his locker. He was thankful for the respite from his searching gaze, though he missed the attention.

He hadn't expected him to be so nice! Usually, real life was much worse than dreams.

"Wait." James dared to move closer, feeling confident enough in Ashwin's kindness to touch the cool metal of his locker door. "You remember that?"

It was strange, James thinks now, under the tree and the speckled bits of sunlight that filtered through its branches, that no one else walking through the halls had noticed the utter significance of that moment. Those words. How did they not notice the beauty of Ashwin's next words? How could they continue on with their lives, scuffing sneakers on the already scuffed linoleum, cursing their teachers and their grades and their stupid friends, and not realize the magic of the boy, pulling a glistening, silver Hershey kiss from the depths of his backpack and smiling and saying:

"How could I ever forget?"

And gently, he cupped James's palm with his palm and, with his calloused hands, gave him the chocolate.

How could I ever forget.

There was a small conversation after this, of course, about James's long tangent at the beginning of biology class in September about the specific kinds of allergies that ran in his family and apologies for asking for the candy and a waterfall of thanks and compliments and smiles. But James was clutching his kiss so hard that he couldn't pay attention to anything else.

All he saw was Ashwin's smile. Bright and crooked and real and sweet.

James probably would have died if he had kissed him then and there. He would have told Ashwin how he knew he loved him from their first lab together as high schoolers, when he had tried to use the scientific method to determine if height correlated with stupidity just to get a kick out of him. How he had spent the better part of a year stealing glances at him in classrooms, in hallways, even in gym class, kicking soccer balls because he was so good at it. How he had planned this conversation in his head for a week—and how it had surpassed everything he imagined.

Yes, he would have died.

But he is dying right now, too, holding his Hershey kiss.

And so, with great precision and care as to not rip the silver wrapping, James uncovers the melted chocolate dollop to the April sunlight and admires its strange, malformed beauty. How beautiful indeed, for something so glorious to be unveiled to the world at last!

He pops it into his mouth and lets it rest on its tongue for a long while.

It melts, slowly, and James leans back on his tree, smiling contentedly at the sky.

He savors the kiss, in all its indescribable joy.

Sugar. Love. Bliss.

How could I ever forget?