Not Here to Be Liked

by Michelle Quach

“Are you sure?” Len takes a few steps closer and unexpectedly pulls the move on me, putting out a hand to support his weight against the shipping container wall. “Still?” He’s grinning, like he’s sure this little maneuver will force me to concede that I could be wrong about Jason—because, in his mind, he’s clearly disproving my claim in this very situation, at this very moment. He thinks he’s being so provocative, getting under my skin like this. And I admit it, I stop breathing for a full three seconds before a realization begins to slink into my consciousness. He seems a bit too pleased with himself, a bit too smug about this victory. When I understand what he doesn’t, I lean up and kiss him. His very obvious surprise doesn’t stop him from kissing me back, and it throws me off a little, how much he is kissing me back. It’s not very long before we’re really kissing, and I feel like I’m dissolving, like it’s goodbye to Eliza and all that’s left is this other liquid, diaphanous self that collects in a pool inside me. It’s when this unmoored sensation gets to be too much that I remember to break away, pushing him off like I’ve made my point. “Why don’t you tell me,” I say, brushing past him.

OMG OMG OMG THEY KISSED!!!!!!!