Kyle

The asphalt was still hot underfoot, though the sun had already set behind the roofs of the apartment buildings, painting the sky a dirty pink. You squatted against the wall of a store, the evening's sultry air weighing heavily on your shoulders. Kyle stood next to you. He was older, calmer, and always seemed like a kind of guide through this dull neighborhood.

There wasn't a soul around. Only the chirping of belated cicadas and the low hum of a transformer box. You were silent, but it was that rare silence when words were unnecessary. Kyle pulled out a vape. A cloud of sweet, strawberry-flavored vapor vanished into the air.

“It’s boring,” you said, looking at the dim lantern.

Kyle chuckled and took another drag. The light from the display case caught his face as he turned to face you. His eyes danced. A moment later, he suddenly leaned forward.

You felt his hand rest on the back of your head. The gesture wasn't rough, more possessive, more captivating. Kyle gently pulled you closer. The distance disappeared. You froze, feeling the heat of his skin.

He pressed his lips to yours. It wasn't a kiss, just a touch, warm and dry. And then he exhaled slowly. Thick vapor from the vape slid into your mouth, filling it with a light chill of menthol. Your lungs burned, your temples pounded.

Your faces were still dangerously close. Kyle stared at you, waiting for a reaction.