Flash Fiction Friday: Only Kiss
This piece wasn't born from a prompt. The idea of an only kiss popped into my head while I was out hiking and this is the story that came with it.
It’s not a first kiss, filled with promise and discovery and the slight tang of nervousness. It’s not a last kiss, darkened by goodbyes and the bitterness of endings.
It’s an only kiss, a once-in-a-lifetime kiss, touched with the desperation of knowing that you’ve never felt anything like this before and never will again.
When Angela wandered out to the beach for one last look at the ocean sunrise, she didn’t expect to run into a boy. A cute boy with eyes the same color as the sea, hair dripping wet from an early swim, and the body of an experienced surfer.
“Good morning,” he said, dropping down on the sand next to where she was sitting on her towel. “Watching the sun rise?”
“Yeah.” It was short and clipped. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone today. Just wanted to be left alone with the sun and the waves and the sand.
He stayed silent for a while, until the rays of light peeked over the horizon. “I’m James.”
“Angela.”
“Ever been surfing, Angela?”
It struck her as kind of an off-base question. Did it matter? “No. I haven’t.”
“Would you like to?”
Angela meant to say no, but when she looked up into his eyes she just couldn’t. It was the last day of her vacation and if she couldn’t do something adventurous then, she never would. “Love to.”
That’s where it had all started, with two surfboards in the waves, James’s hands on her skin, and the blue Hawaiian sky above their heads.
“I’m leaving today,” Angela said abruptly, interrupting their silence as they bobbed in the shallows waiting for the next wave. “In a couple hours actually.”
She expected James to recoil, to offer to bring their surfing session to an end. Instead he smiled at her and said, “Better make those hours count then” because he started to paddle out.
By the time they finally pulled themselves out of the water and onto the sand, Angela’s hands and feet had turned into prunes and her arms felt like wet noodles. She dropped onto her back, panting with exhaustion, and closed her eyes, just enjoying the feel of the sun soaking into her skin.
“Angela,” James whispered.
She opened her eyes to see his face looming over her, stretched out next to her on the sand. He inched closer and she closed her eyes again just as he pressed his lips to hers.
He tasted sweet and sour at the same time, like a fresh pineapple, tinted with the salt from the seawater. She kissed him back, softly at first and then harder and more desperate.
She could say that she’d come back to Hawaii again soon. He could promise to call her. But they don’t. And when she leaves, she says only one word: “Aloha.”
Hello.
And goodbye.
It’s not a first kiss, filled with promise and discovery and the slight tang of nervousness. It’s not a last kiss, darkened by goodbyes and the bitterness of endings.
It’s an only kiss, a once-in-a-lifetime kiss, touched with the desperation of knowing that you’ve never felt anything like this before and never will again.
When Angela wandered out to the beach for one last look at the ocean sunrise, she didn’t expect to run into a boy. A cute boy with eyes the same color as the sea, hair dripping wet from an early swim, and the body of an experienced surfer.
“Good morning,” he said, dropping down on the sand next to where she was sitting on her towel. “Watching the sun rise?”
“Yeah.” It was short and clipped. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone today. Just wanted to be left alone with the sun and the waves and the sand.
He stayed silent for a while, until the rays of light peeked over the horizon. “I’m James.”
“Angela.”
“Ever been surfing, Angela?”
It struck her as kind of an off-base question. Did it matter? “No. I haven’t.”
“Would you like to?”
Angela meant to say no, but when she looked up into his eyes she just couldn’t. It was the last day of her vacation and if she couldn’t do something adventurous then, she never would. “Love to.”
That’s where it had all started, with two surfboards in the waves, James’s hands on her skin, and the blue Hawaiian sky above their heads.
“I’m leaving today,” Angela said abruptly, interrupting their silence as they bobbed in the shallows waiting for the next wave. “In a couple hours actually.”
She expected James to recoil, to offer to bring their surfing session to an end. Instead he smiled at her and said, “Better make those hours count then” because he started to paddle out.
By the time they finally pulled themselves out of the water and onto the sand, Angela’s hands and feet had turned into prunes and her arms felt like wet noodles. She dropped onto her back, panting with exhaustion, and closed her eyes, just enjoying the feel of the sun soaking into her skin.
“Angela,” James whispered.
She opened her eyes to see his face looming over her, stretched out next to her on the sand. He inched closer and she closed her eyes again just as he pressed his lips to hers.
He tasted sweet and sour at the same time, like a fresh pineapple, tinted with the salt from the seawater. She kissed him back, softly at first and then harder and more desperate.
She could say that she’d come back to Hawaii again soon. He could promise to call her. But they don’t. And when she leaves, she says only one word: “Aloha.”
Hello.
And goodbye.
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