In the dimly lit restaurant, the candles on the table give off more light than the chandelier. When the waitress comes in and asks if they would like dessert, he dismisses her with a wave of his hand. “No, but thank you.” he says.
He turns to face Sam, the girl sitting across from him. At sixteen, he seems so much more mature to her. He is handsome, his face perfectly made. His eyebrows, his cheeks, everything was perfect, flawless. She’s considered the smart one, not the pretty one. He has a car as well as the right to drive it. She is still studying for the test. And he’s a year older. He’s kissed lots of girls, in all probability. She had never been kissed by any other than her family. What was he thinking of her, she wonders. Is she a cheap ticket, or does he not care about how he out shines her? Would he have said yes to a date otherwise? She shifts nervously under his soft stare. With a knowing smile on her face, the waitress turns her back and slips silently away, not interrupting them further.
He leans forward slightly, tentatively, the candle flame’s reflection dancing in his eyes. Brown and intense, they seem to bore right into her, guarded slightly by the thick pile of jet-black hair that hangs above them. They invite her, and she leans forward enough to match him. He smiles and leans closer, thinking of nothing but her.
She hesitates for a moment, but leans closer until she could feel his breath. Would it be slobbery? Dry? Soft and electric? Gentle and intimate? They lean closer, their lips a hair’s breadth away from each other. She closes her eyes. Would it be like instant hunger, a need for more? Would they be able to stop themselves if it was? How powerful would the need for more be? Was it true that you couldn’t breathe during a kiss, a real kiss? His hand slowly touches her cheek, beginning to close the distance between them.
He starts licking her face, great, long, slobbery laps. She jerks back instantly, shoving him away. “What are you doing?” she demands, shocked and disgusted. He doesn’t respond, but starts licking her face again.
Sam pushed her dog off of her with a groan. To be honest, she really didn’t have a problem with Sandy’s wake-up methods. It was just in moments like these when she despised them. She heard a thump as Sandy fell off the bed. Not at all phased by her fall, Sandy jumped back up to thoroughly bathe Sam’s face in dog slobber.
“Knock it off. See? Speaking. I’m up.” Sandy continued to fill her ear with slime. "Go get food," Sam said, flinging her hand in the general direction of the door.
At the mention of ‘food’ Sandy was off, claws clapping down on the hard wood floor as she raced to the kitchen. Sam threw her head in her pillow, cursing it for the interruption of her dream.
