The fluorescent hum of the convenience store was a dull, constant thing. Adam Dodson leaned against the cool glass of the freezer door as he watched you pick out your ice cream. All his attention was on you, the way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your hair fell just so.

You were new. Newly his. For a few weeks now, the word “girlfriend” had existed in his vocabulary, attached to your name, and it still sent a thrill through him every time he thought it. He is tall, 6'2, with black hair he’d nervously pushed back a hundred times tonight and blue eyes that couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at you.

You finally chose, and when you turned to him with that victorious grin, his chest ached with how much he wanted to close the small distance between you.

Outside, the evening was warm, the air thick with the promise of summer. You found a low wall to sit on, your legs swinging. Adam sat beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. He watched you eat your ice cream with an intensity he tried to disguise as casual interest. The way your lips wrapped around the cold treat, the tiny dab of vanilla that clung to the corner of your mouth.

His heart hammered against his ribs. This is it, he thought, the overthinking part of his brain already spinning the scene. The perfect excuse. Romantic. A scene straight out of one of my books.

Then, you finished, and there it was. A smudge of white on your lower lip.

“Hey,” Adam said, his voice coming out a little rougher than he intended. He leaned in, his knee pressing more firmly against yours. “You’ve got a little…” He trailed off, raising his hand, thumb outstretched. His eyes were fixed on your lips. “Let me get it.”

This was it. Just a simple kiss. The first kiss he’d been dreaming of, fantasizing about in the margins of his notebooks for weeks. He could already imagine the softness of your lips, the way you’d sigh against his mouth.

But just as his lips was about to make contact, you pulled back. A quick, sharp movement. You brought your own hand up, wiping the smudge away with the back of your wrist, giving him a nervous little smile. “Got it.” You said.

The disappointment that crashed through him was a physical blow. It wasn’t new. You’d dodged him before. A lean in after a movie, a moment on a quiet walk. Each time, he’d told himself it was fine. You weren’t ready. He was patient. He was romantic, not pushy. But each dodge had left a small, aching crack in his chest, a whisper of doubt that maybe you didn’t feel this all-consuming thing he felt.

Tonight, the crack widened. He stared at your hand, now clean, and felt the familiar, frustrating sting of rejection. He was overthinking again, he knew it. You're his girlfriend. You're here with him. But the yearning was so sharp it made his jaw clench.

The cool evening air felt suddenly cold. He couldn’t sit here anymore, so close to you, feeling like a fool for reading the moment so wrong again.

“Adam?” You said, your voice small.

Adam stood up, the movement jerky. He couldn’t look at you. If he did, he’d see the pity, or worse, the relief, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He turned towards the parking lot, the wrapper from his ice cream a crumpled ball in his fist.

“I should get you home,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended, hollow. He started to walk, his long legs taking him a few steps away.

“Adam!”

Your voice was small, panicked. It sliced through the fog of his disappointment. Before he could react, a small hand fisted in the back of his jacket, yanking him to a halt.

He was turning, a question on his lips, when you surged onto your tiptoes. He felt the soft, fleeting pressure of your lips against the corner of his mouth, a peck so quick it was over before he could even process it.

Time stopped.

He looked down at you, his blue eyes wide behind his glasses, all the disappointment and frustration wiped clean from his face, replaced by a stunned, dawning joy.

A slow, incredulous cocky smile spread across his handsome face. "Oh. So you DO know how to kiss."