Small Joys

by Elvin James Mensah

“Muddy?” I said as he was about to get up. “Yeah, pal?” “Can I kiss you?” He looked at me blankly at first, tilting his head a little, every painful second slipping by as he said nothing, the knots in my stomach tightening. But then he smiled. “You wanna kiss me, do you?” he said. “Ah, come here, pal.” The knots unraveled. He threw an arm around me and pulled me close to him, cupping a hand on my face and pressing his lips onto mine. I could feel him inhaling, could feel the air sweeping across my upper lip in a gentle wave, could feel his stubble bristle against my chin, could feel this bright rush of energy pulsing through me. I could’ve almost collapsed beneath the weight of the relief, of the warmth, of the intensity, of the vast sensation of simply being wanted by someone like this. I breathed in so deeply and let him inhabit me, and it was as if we were secreted in the woods again. I put my hand on his chest then and felt his heart beating. When we pulled ourselves apart, he smiled at me and said in a low voice: “How was that, then?” The only thing I could do was smile back. “That bad, huh?” he joked. “I haven’t actually ever been told I’m a good kisser, so apologies if I’m—” “Muddy, it was fine.” “Fine?” “Yeah.” “Bollocks.” He puckered his lips at me. “Come on, let’s go again, pal. Fuckin’ fine. You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?” I laughed. “It was more than fine.” “Happy days, then,” he said, patting me on the back and looking back across the distance. “Happy days.”