A Bad Desire

K.C.’s arm curled around Micah’s waist. At the end of most nights, they fell asleep nestled into one another. K.C. didn’t cuddle with his other friends.

Since they’d met in Little League, Micah wormed his way from “kid he talked to because he had to” to K.C.’s best friend. He sucked at baseball, yet he never gave up.

Like a tidal wave, the middle school spring mixer approached.

“So you’re supposed to close your eyes. What if I bump into her? Or miss her mouth?” Micah asked.

Magazines fanned out near their feet. Copies of Girl Crush!, Tiger Beat, M, J14, all written for girls. K.C. highlighted articles on first kisses and kissing techniques.

“Once your lips touch, then you close your eyes. At least I think,“K.C. said.

He couldn’t ask the eighth grade boys, on the cusp of highschool and full of wisdom, they’d laugh at him. He’d always wanted more female friends, but once middle school hit it was like a barrier rose between boys and girls.

“What if there’s a fire?” Micah asked.

“Bro, there’s not going to be a fire. Chill out. ”

Last week, his hand brushed against Darcy’s in the hallway. He replayed the moment constantly, her smiling at him over her shoulder, her crooked tooth poking out. The people he spent every day with in elementary school now he met in glances. The mixer would give them time to reconnect.

“A metaphorical, psychological fire. I’m fine waiting a few years. Jenna is great and it’s fun holding her hand. She’s got really soft fingers.”

Wait, Micah held a girl’s hand? Before me?

“It’s what boys and girls do when they like each other. Maybe we’re overthinking this. How hard can it be? Bart Fuller has a girlfriend, and he’s nothing special to look at,” K.C. said.

The neon stars on his ceiling glimmered. Gramps thought they were girly, but that didn’t matter. K.C. slept under his own sky every night.

“No way to practice beforehand. But I think if two people really get each other, it will all work out. Darcy likes you, she’s probably just scared to tell you,” Micah said.

Darcy climbed trees, collected spider webs, and stole from the school book fair. She wasn’t scared of anything.

There was a way to solve both their problems, one that didn’t involve embarrassing themselves in front of their crushes.

“Neither of us have ever been kissed, right? Well, everyone says Darcy and Billy Ross kissed at the roller rink. She might think I suck in comparison. Maybe we could practice on each other? Just won’t tell anyone. It’s not like it counts anyway,” K.C. said.

With a relaxed smile, Micah nods and leans toward him.

In poster form, Bruce Springsteen was the only witness.

He brushed his finger across the softness of Micah’s round cheek. Micah’s lips carried a hint of lemonade. Comfortable like their sleepovers, matching Buccaneers t-shirts, and fruit roll ups.

Then it was over.

K.C. tried to find his lips again, but only met air.

“I think we did pretty well! I didn’t close my eyes though, do you think it matters? That was really fun, ” Micah said.

Then why did you pull away?

At K.C.’s request, Micah slept on the couch. A floor below and a world away.

It was a learning experience. Sure, the kiss was nice, but it wasn’t like he had anything to compare it to. So why go back for a second round?

His blankets scratched against his skin. K.C. kicked them to the floor, sweat building on his brow.

On the highest setting, the ceiling fan rattled. A few plastic stars were behind it. With the blades passing over them, the stars flashed like cameras.

When he was in fourth grade, the daisy chain incident happened. A third grade boy knit daisy chains every day with the girls and looped them over the fences. Though kind of weird, the kid, whose name K.C. couldn’t recall, wasn’t harming anyone. One day, a hoard of fifth grade boys ripped up every single chain. The boy sunk to his knees and stayed in the same spot all recess.

K.C., pitcher on the baseball team and first pick in gym class, wasn’t like that. There was his crush on Darcy, for one thing. He and Micah were too entangled, that was all. Gramps said he shouldn’t be having sleepovers at this age, anyway.

The mixer comes and goes. A limpid affair, girls and boys dance a regulated foot apart. Parents helicopter at the edge of the gym. Darcy isn’t able to come.

Neither boy kisses anyone that day.

Cuddle sessions end. Every once in a while, K.C. wakes up with a pillow tucked in his arms. It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s alone.