(written by Delirias)
The night is damp with sweat and a sticky sense of adventure.
The group of people next to her are smoking Gudang Garams and that’s when she notices him.
It’s not his curly hair nor his quirky sense of fashion that catches her eye. It’s his lips.
They’re lips that weren’t made for kissing, she thinks. They look sinful – they’re dark and supple and possibly intoxicating to touch.
There wasn’t much to do inside the club so she just listens in on their conversation that revolves around hating vaping whilst inhaling cigarette fumes.
The night swells into drunkenness and she forgets about the boy she came to the club with. He’s whining about wanting to kiss her and whispers, or more.
All she thinks of are dark lips and imported toxic cigarettes – what would he taste like?
In a few minutes, she’s kissing a different pair of lips thinking that they didn’t taste right because the mouth reeked of alcohol and want when she wanted a taste of coffee and cigarettes.
It’s different now. She wasn’t made for love or dark lips or innocent fantasies, she thinks as the boy with the dark lips gets into his car.
A few months later, the boy with the dark lips picks her up from a church and they go to his house.
But they don’t touch at all. Not even once.