I spend the night at him dorm. We're not drunk; we fell asleep to wooziness produced by new friends, new atmospheres, kisses on the lips because we can, heads on stomachs, legs entangled, freedom, heat. I awaken to his breath on my face, his roommate leaving, the door closing.
My eyes stay shut and so do his, but his nose hits mine, traces circles. Our knees bump. I struggle to control my shaking.
He leans forward, brushing his lips against mine, testing my response. I exhale as steadily as I can before he moves forward again, a little less slowly, his body following his actions. He kisses like a wave, moving forward and back, forward and back, his thigh pushing in between my legs and mimicking the pulse. Neither of us open our eyes.
Suddenly his tongue lunges forward, positioning itself firmly into my mouth, not moving. I struggle to breathe, pull back, shift uncomfortably. I allow myself to look at his face and my face reddens slightly.
It's a long walk back to my room. My mouth tastes like stale spit.
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