Before my rash decision to make out with Michael, I had no lip locking experience, and it was blatant obvious that he didn't either when he pulled away somewhat breathlessly.
"Woah." He chuckled.
"Was that good?" I questioned.
"I think so." He replied, "I mean it was innocent since there wasn't any tongue or anything, but it was great."
"How do you use tongue?" I asked.
"No idea." He admitted.
"I'll Google it." I informed him.
After typing, how to kiss, with the tongue, into the search engine, watching two different videos, reading through four step by step tutorials and carefully examining three digraphs, I was confident that I sort of, kind of, got it.
"Do you.... Do you want to try again?" I questioned awkwardly, "With tongue?"
"Okay." Michael agreed eagerly, scooting closer to me.
"Okay," I sighed taking a shaky breath, "Shall we go on three?"
"That's too cliche." Michael scoffed, "Say the formula for Pye and we'll go on four."
Nodding I moved closer still to him so that our folded knees were touching.
"Three," I said nervously, "Point, one.... Fo..."
Before I could finish, Michael was leaning in towards me, and not wanting him to miss again, I moved up towards him. We both went right and bumped heads before he cupped my chin lightly and tilted his head to the left.
As his lips pressed against mine they began moving in sync, our two mouths fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces. His mouth then parted slightly, as did mine, and then the next thing I knew there was tongue in my mouth.
In movies, when the sexy main character makes out with some super hot chick it looks quite romantic to use tongue, however in reality it's overwhelmingly underwhelming.
Michael's tongue was just sort of resting in mouth, unmoving, wet, slimy, kind of totally disgusting. His breath smelled and tastes strongly of bagel which wasn't gross, so much as strange.
I expected his tongue to come alive at some point, kicking into attraction and wowing me, however it remained lip on my bottom teeth until I pulled away, my eyes widening in horror at the string of spittle that connected us.
Fighting the urge to gag I wiped my mouth off on my sleeve.
"How was that?" Michael questioned.
I wanted to tell him that it was the most horrid eight seconds of my life, I'd been counting, however I refrained.
"I think so both need some practice." I said slowly.
"Agreed." He replied, "Your tongue was flopping around like a fish out of water."
"Yours was lying there like a sunbathing walrus." I retorted.
"It's all good though." Michael said quickly, clearly picking up on my annoyed tone, "It's a first kiss it's kind of supposed to be terrible, if your first kiss is amazing, all other kisses will just sort of be sub par."
"What's this I hear about kissing?" A voice questioned the doorway.
Yelping, I whirled around to find Michael's Mom watching us with a smirk.
"Mom!" Michael cried, "You've now killed the mood."
"There was no mood!" I said hurriedly turning to Michael's Mom, "Michael kisses like a Saint Bernard."
"Cut me some slack!" Michael cried, "I'm blind!"
"I just wanted let you two know the pizza rolls are ready." Michael's Mom laughed before exiting the room, closing the door behind her which weirded me out majorly.
I didn't have much experience with boys, heck, I didn't really have any. However I knew enough to know that Mothers were generally supposed to protect their sons from the dangerous and temptations of the female gender, not pimp them out and listen outside the door. I was convinced that if Michael went and asked his Mom where the condoms were kept she'd add lube and a slow jazz cd to boot.
"I'm sorry about her." Michael said, as if he could read my mind, "She's a little.... One second."
Rising to his feet Michael quietly crossed over the the door and throwing it open revealed his Mom standing there.
"I Was just coming to see if you have any laundry you need washed." She laughed.
Shooting me a smile, Michael grabbed his Mom lightly by the hand and pulled her along behind him out of my line of vision. I then heard the two talking in low voices before Michael poked his head in the doorway.
"Come on." He chuckled it's all clear.
Standing up I followed him out of the room to the kitchen where a plate of pizza rolls were sat at the kitchen table while Michael's Mom stood at the counter, cooking something else.
Sitting down in a chair opposite Michael, I picked up a small, rectangular pizza filled puff and brought it towards my mouth however stopped as Michael's Mom spoke.
"Spencer, you're Olaff's grand daughter aren't you?"
Lowering the pizza bite I nodded.
"That must be nice." She gushed.
"Sure." I replied.
"And your brother." She continued, "I saw him in the paper just the other day said he's going to Harvard?"
"Yeah, he is." I mumbled.
"You must be so proud."
"Yeah, sure."
"How about you have you been looking at colleges?"
"Uh, no." I answered truthfully, "I'll probably go online large crowds aren't really my thing."
"Michael might go online! Isn't that right Mikey?" She gushed.
Michael grunted his reply with his mouth full.
"That's nice." I mumbled awkwardly.
"So tell me about your family." Michael's Mom pressed.
"Uh, I don't know." I mumbled sheepishly, "I live with my Mom and Luke."
"You don't have a dad either?" she questioned as if it were a good thing.
Like the lack of a paternal figure was the perfect bonding factor for her son and I.
"I have a Dad." I replied, "He and my Mom got a divorce after the accident."
"Oh my." Michael's Mom said gently, "That doesn't sound good."
"Mom." Michael groaned.
"Mikey please." his Mother hissed, "Spencer is talking."
"Luke got in a car accident two years ago." I mumbled.
"Is that right?" Mrs. Clifford breathed, "Was he badly injured?"
"He was okay." I replied, "Just a broken leg and a bad concusion. His friends had it worse."
"Oh no." Mrs Clifford gasped.
"Yeah." I mumbled, unsure of where to stop, "My brother's bo...friend Calum, he lost his right arm from the elbow down and Luke's girlfriend Eileen, she didn't make it."
I waited for Mrs. Clifford to let out another tsk of sympathy, to press for more details, to change the subject to the chickpeas she was mashing presumably to make hummas, but she didn't. Instead she turned to look at me, her face pale, an unreadable expression hardening her features.
Licking my lips nervously, I glanced over at Michael and found him wringing his hands nervously.
"Is....is everything okay?" I questioned tentativly.
"Spencer, I'm sorry." Mrs. ClIfford muttered, wipping her hands off on a dishrag, "But I just remembered Michael and I have plans tonight."
Plans. So vauge, too vauge.
"Oh, okay." I muttered rising to my feet.
"I think it's best that you go." she whispered, her eyes watching me with the same horrifed repulsion of someone eyeing a spider creeping along their wall.
"Oh." I mumbled, "Um, yeah okay. Sorry, do you, want to come over tomorrow Michael?"
"Michael is busy tomorrow." his Mom snapped.
"Oh." I whispered, "Okay, um... just give me a call okay?"
Wordlessly, Michael nodded.
"You need to leave." his Mom said stiffly.
Tears of confusion and embarrassment filling my eyes, I thanked her awkwardly for the pizza roll before bolting for the front door.
Never before had fresh air felt so good as it did, as I took in deep, hungry gulps off the stuff, blinking furiously in a futile attempt to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. Walking quickly down the front steps, down the driveway and down the street, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tried to call Luke, however after several rings I was sent to voice mail.
Letting out a cry of frustration I tried him twice more, and Calum once, before giving up and starting the walk home. A journey which allowed my mind more then enough time to wander.
It hurt, being kicked from the Clifford's home. I hadn't done anything wrong, at least I didn't think I had, however I'd done something. The way his Mom spoke to me, the hatred in her voice, the way he didn't even say goodbye.
My eyes blurring with tears I reached up to wipe them, and since I was not watching where I was going ended up crashing into something and stumbling back several steps. Startled I looked up and found a large, angry looking boy glowering down at me, his crew of equally Neanderthal like friends watching me like I was a dead man walking.
Taking a shaky breath, I mumbled an apology and tried to walk around the boy I had crashed into, however he moved to block my path.
"Excuse me." I whispered.
No answer.
"I said excuse me." I repeated begining to panic.
"Oh I heard you." the boy laughed, "But you're not going anywhere."