Sunday, 9:00pm (22 hours after the kiss)

Fr: [email protected]l.com

To: [email protected]

I have another poem.

Your crush,

H.C.

***

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Hunter,

If it's another poem about your undying love for Nutella, then forget it.

Not crushing on you,

Sky

***

Fr: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

How about a poem about Oreo cheesecake? Everybody loves Oreo cheesecake.

Your Fantasy,

H.C.

***

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

How many times do I have to tell you that spitting out random declarations of love for food isn't considered poetry?

And why are we using e-mail? There's a thing called text messaging now, grandpa.

Sincerely annoyed,

Sky

***

Fr: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Oreo cheesecake is delicious

I could eat it forever

I am so awesome

You know you love me,

H.C.

P.S. Is that your way of telling me you want us to be text-mates?

***

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Stop. Just... Stop.

Thinks you need therapy,

Sky

P.S. You're incorrigible.

***

Fr: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Sorry for the late reply. Had to look up incorrigible in google.

One more poem and I'll stop. 😊

Incorrigibly awesome,

H.C.

***

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Fine. Just make it quick, I'm sleepy and we have school tomorrow.

Respectfully wish you to get lost,

Sky

***

Fr: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Will you go on a date with me?

Keeping my fingers crossed,

H.C.

***

Fr: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

You still there?

I'm dying here,

H.C.

***

Fr: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Did you fall asleep?

I haven't eaten in five minutes, that's basically suicide on my part,

H.C.

***

Fr: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Buddy??????

:(

RIP me,

H.C.

***

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Okay.

Wishing you're not dead,

Sky

***

Fr: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

I'm twerking out of happiness. Sleep tight, buddy.

Still very much alive,

H.C.

***

If you would have asked me two weeks ago if I would be willing to go out with Hunter, much more, kiss him, I would have told you to go easy with the drugs.

Hunter and I were on the opposite sides of the spectrum, like parallel lines that weren't supposed to meet. But life wasn't just a straight line. It consisted of a series of twist and turns and sometimes, it could lead you towards that one person you were intent on running away from. And if you were really unlucky, you might even find yourself kissing that person and agreeing to go on a date with him.

I was that unlucky.

I stared up the ceiling of my room, wide eyed, cheeks burning and heart thumping wildly inside my chest. We arrived from the camping trip earlier this afternoon but I still felt slightly catatonic until now.

I could still feel the after-shocks of that fateful kiss last night. I could still taste Hunter's lips in my mouth. I could still feel his warmth around me, making me feel feverish and hot under my blanket. He felt so wonderful, so addictive that my body ached to be close to him again.

God, Hunter was so good at kissing, he could win a Guinness for it.

We kissed for a long time, I wasn't sure how long but by the time the kiss ended, I remembered I was already gasping for breath. I couldn't help it, Hunter always managed to take my breath away. Literally and figuratively.

I thought things would get awkward between us after that fateful kiss. Hell, for the first five minutes, I couldn't even look at him straight in the eyes, worried that he would start teasing me about my lack of kissing skills. But he didn't.

After the kiss, Hunter suddenly had a eureka moment. Apparently, the kiss convinced him that he could be the next Edgar Allan Poe, and that he was an expert in Haiku. He then started spouting horrid poems about kissing and I had to listen to his horrible Haikus the rest of the night. By the time he took me back to our tent, I already lost my faith in the Japanese form of poetry.

Hunter gave me peck on the forehead before saying goodnight and it was just the sweetest thing ever.

It also got me so confused.

I wasn't stupid, I knew Hunter only acted like a poet under the influence of met to ease the tension; so that I wouldn't feel shy or awkward around him, and I was thankful for that. I wasn't ready to dwell on the implications of what we've done. By kissing each other, it meant that we've just crossed an invisible line that separated friendship from something else. Friends don't just kiss each other like that. Especially not spine-tingling, heart-melting, brain-befuddling kisses.

But... What were we exactly? He never once told me that he likes me.

Sure, he always teases me or flirts with me but I wasn't sure if I should take it seriously or dismiss it as just random Hunter bullshits.

The problem with funny boys was that you were never sure if they were joking or telling the truth.

I unconsciously put my palm over my hammering heart.

I may not be sure about Hunter's feelings for me, but I was sure of one thing: I'm starting to fall in love with him and it was impossible to stop now.

And as much as I'd like to enjoy this sudden clarity, I couldn't shake this nagging feeling at the deepest corners of my heart, telling me that things were about to get ugly.

I kept on wondering, what if Hunter and I weren't supposed to be parallel lines?

What if we were Asymptotes who could get closer and closer but would never be together?

Or worse, Tangent lines who had one chance to meet... but destined to part forever?

***

😊