The complete horror that sat in my gut was nauseating, and I thought about darting out of his front door, transferring schools by Monday, and never seeing Landon and his stupid penis again.
Bet’s off, Landon. Moving to Europe.¡Adiós, mi enemigo!
“It’s OK.” He laughed.
“It’s not,” I coughed out through my hands that were still hiding my surely red face.
“No, trust me, it is. These things happen when you’re figuring this stuff out.”
“I doubt anything like this has ever happened to you.”
“Trust me, it has.”
I spread my fingers against my face and narrowed my eyes as I peeked his way. “Tell me.”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which I’d gone ahead and messed up for him. “OK. The first time I ever went down on a girl, I was going at it like a madman, licking, slurping, having a damn feast, and when I asked if she was enjoying it, she replied, ‘Uh, that’s the back door, not the front.’”
“Oh my gosh...” My hands dropped to the ground, along with my jaw. “You ate a girl’s butthole?!”
“You don’t have to sound so entertained by it,” he spat out, but I couldn’t help it. The fit of giggles wouldn’t stop escaping me. He wrinkled his nose. “Stop laughing,” he ordered, but I couldn’t.
The squeals kept flying out of my mouth at a rapid speed, and I bent over into a howling fit at the idea of young, naive Landon licking a girl’s butthole.
“Stop,” he ordered again, but with a slight smirk on his face. I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to; it was all too perfect and wrong.
The more I laughed, the bigger his smirk grew. Then he leaped toward me, tackling my body. “Fine, if you want to laugh so much, let me help.” He began tickling me, making me burst into more laughter. I was rolling back and forth, trying to break away from him, but he kept tickling me nonstop. “Surrender!” he commanded.
“OK, OK, I surrender!”
“Say ‘Landon is the best and Shay was wrong for laughing at him.’”
“Landon is the best and Shay was wrong for laughing at him,” I echoed.
“OK then.” He stopped tickling me, and I instantly missed his fingers running along my skin.
Our breaths were both heavy and tired from the wrestling. He boxed me in with his body and lowered his face so it was inches from mine. I pressed my hands to his chest and felt his heart beating. It was wild, erratic, untamed—like mine.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
He did as I said.
“Again.”
Another kiss again.
And again, and again, and again...
After a little bit more kissing, I knew I needed to head home, even though all I wanted to do was stay. “Walk me to my car?” I asked.
“Of course,” Landon replied.
We walked out and he opened my car door for me like the gentleman I’d never thought him to be.
“Thank you. I hate you,” I said with a smile as I slid into the driver’s seat.
He leaned toward me, laughing, and gently kissed my forehead. “I hate you, too.”
That kiss felt so much more intimate than anything we’d done before. Forehead kisses had officially become my favorite thing he had given to me.