Open [boyxboy] ✓

eighteen:: when your lips are put to work.

[I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry]

EIGHTEEN: when your lips are put to work.

"Hey, are you okay?" I'd asked Andy when I made my way into the boys' locker room shortly after he'd left the cafeteria with all eyes on him. Sliding my way past my old soccer buddies who'd long since stopped acknowledging my presence, I slipped into the always unlocked door. The benches, written on and beaten down from years of overuse and the lockers a bright red color, the boy in question slumped down beside his own.

Captain was written on the locker in black block letters and his jersey was hanging out of it as if it were thrown in there in a fit. With his cleats thrown across the room and his head in his hands, I could tell he'd lied about Coach calling him in.

He'd lied about it being nothing an he'd been stressed about something.

Looking up at me, his eyes were bloodshot as he tried to wipe away any evidence, "I- yeah, I'm fine."

But the turned over crate of footballs was a clear indication that he was lying about that as well.

Slumping beside him, I bit my lip, not really knowing how to comfort him. Silently, I hoped that he'd want to e left alone but obviously I'd never be able to leave him in this state. His dark hair was tousled from taking his hands through it so much and he was staring at a small hole in the wall.

Picking at my sleeve, I looked over at my friend, trying to form words. I wanted to create a pep-talk that had Paul -the king of pep-talks- swooning.

But that didn't look like it was happening any time soon.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I'd finally been able to ask after sitting in silence for at least ten minutes. The air was thick and sitting next to your broken down friend while you have no idea what's going on isn't really the best situation to be in.

He shook his head, turning his face so he could look at me, frown etched onto his normally goofy face, "no," he said in a small voice, licking his bottom lip as he tried not to let his emotions show.

His red cheeks were a dead giveaway.

He'd been crying a hell of a lot, you could tell by the hoarseness of his voice, "Andy-"

Shaking his head an effectively cutting me off, his eyes flickered down to my lips before meeting mine again. I could see the hesitation but I wasn't fully aware of what was happening until it had happened.

Until his lips were pressed against mine and he'd kissed me. His lips were slightly chapped and hesitant as if he had no idea what the fuck was going on.

Nothing.

I felt absolutely positively nothing and that was both a beautiful and tragic thing. It wasn't like how I felt with Paul, it wasn't that rush or that feeling of his lean fingers curving in my hair or his teeth gently biting my lip as he kissed me, small tugs at my scalp.

It wasn't like that.

But that didn't stop me from kissing back.

Andy was cute, he was cute and he smelled woodsy. His hands were balled in my shirt, desperately. Something about it felt familiar. So I kissed him back.