First Kiss Last Kiss

There’s no way to know that the last time you kiss someone that it’s going to be for the last time.

There are two times you kiss someone that you will remember. The first kiss and the last kiss. Sometimes that one kiss is both the first and last. You know when it’s the first kiss. You know it because it’s momentous on some level. And if it’s not, chances are it’s the last kiss, too. But most of the time, aside from the first kiss, you never know for sure if that kiss is your last kiss. Once it sets in, that’s when you reach back into your memory and try to recall that moment and cement it into your memory.

If I had known the last time I kissed my ex, it would have been the last kiss; I would have tried harder to remember it beyond the taste of coffee and vanilla creamer on her lips. The day of our last kiss, I left for work and came home to a note. She was done, done trying, and done with me. She left me with the apartment I could never afford on my own, and the cat she had begged me to adopt for us.

So here I am. On my own. Well. On my own with a surly cat who hates me and blames me for her disappearance. He looks at me like it’s my fault all the time, anyway. And he also hates me because I have to work two jobs to afford the apartment and his lifestyle.

My first job begins at 7:45 am and ends at 4 pm. I rush home, change, and make it to my second job by 6 pm, and don’t get off until midnight. Home by 1 am, in bed by 2 am, up by 5 am. Rinse and repeat. On the majority of my days off, I stay in bed all day and sleep.

My days are an endless blur of tedium and exhaustion. Nothing really stands out in my life. But occasionally, something happens to pull me from my fog and remind me that I am still alive.

One such event - the most pivotal in a while for me anyway - happened on one of those quintessential Southern California nights. The sun had gone down, and the oppressive heat of the day had given way to a pleasantly cooler evening, and there weren’t many stars to be seen because there never are. The overpopulation and light pollution don’t allow for that. But it’s still a beautiful night. Balmy breezes off the ocean, and a full fat moon shows the silhouettes of palm trees that sway.

The party is also typical of Southern California excess, on a rooftop terrace with a glittering view of downtown below. But I’m not a guest of this party. I’m here to work. To pass flutes of champagne to the wealthy partygoers. It’s for some socialite’s engagement party. The daughter of some real estate mogul or movie producer. I don’t really remember. But I recognize a lot of the faces even though they don’t see mine. I’m just an invisible nobody. A faceless tray of champagne flutes ghosting through a crowd.

I had to have walked at least five miles in circles through this crowd. My feet were screaming, and my shoulder was on fire from carrying that tray, careful not to spill a drop or break a glass. After my last flute had been ungratefully snatched from my tray, it was beyond time for me to take a much deserved break.

The space we were given to take our breaks is behind the expansive patio, which overlooks the impressive view. Our break area is devoid of a view; instead, we have a beautiful brick wall of the building next door to gaze upon. But it’s quiet. Well… Not completely. It’s quieter than being amidst the party. But the din of voices and laughter and an undercurrent of the rhythm from the string orchestra someone sprang for (probably cost more than I make in a year) carries over. Perched on the wall where leaning too far backward would lead to a grisly death, I wish I had my phone.

The managers forbid us from having phones with us at all while we are on the job. Mine is stored in my cubby behind the kitchen. Instead of doom scrolling on social media, I’m staring at the mosaic tile flooring, following the pattern as it flows back to the other side, where the party is in full swing. Someone shrieks and laughs as the tinkle of glass breaking follows. A dropped glass of Dom. They don’t care. That’s nothing to them. One bottle is almost a night’s worth of my pay. And this isn’t even my main job. This is my side gig.

It sounds like I resent these people. But I don’t. I resent how they look past us. I resent being invisible and replaceable. So it’s not the people, but the treatment I can’t stand.

“Hey. Mind some company, or am I intruding on your peace?” A throaty, velvety voice interrupts my spiraling mind.

Looking up, I’m met with hazel eyes, a bed head mess on purpose of short-cropped blonde hair. She’s wearing a black three-piece suit, masculine, but not- it had been obviously tailored for her frame. A black necktie is stark against the white of he buttondown shirt. She’s loosening the tie as she walks toward me. Silver cufflinks are catching the glow of the much dimmer lighting on this side. She’s stunning. I forgot to breathe.

I look around to make sure she’s talking to me, as if I didn’t remember I had been completely alone seconds ago. We are, in fact, the only two people, so I shake my head no.

She grins at me. “No, you don’t want company, or no, I’m intruding?”

I clear my throat. “Sorry. No, you aren’t intruding. I’m just about to head back.” I slip off my perch on the side of the wall.

Her warm hand catches my wrist. “What if I want company?”

“There are 500 people on the other side of this wall.”

Her eyebrow arches and her head tilts.

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

With a soft chuckle, she braces herself against the wall, looking down at the alley below before looking up at the starless moonlit sky. “I’m so fucking tired of those people.”

I sit back on the wall, next to where her hand is gripping the stonework. Her fingers are close to my thigh. Less than a hair away, and I’m acutely aware of her nearness. “What is there to be tired of?”

“The bullshit. The surface level consistent humble bragging for starters. It’s exhausting.” Her gaze fixes on my profile. I can smell her expensive cologne, and I like it. I’m fighting leaning in closer so that I can be enveloped in it. “I saw you come back here alone, and I thought you might be a fun change of pace to kill some time with.”

So I’m not as invisible in this crowd as I thought. “You think talking to me will cure your boredom? I can promise you I’m not all that interesting.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“Fair. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.” She pauses as I pick invisible lint from my cheap black uniform pants to keep from staring at her. I hate polyester. “Let’s start with your name.”

“Bonnie. And yours?”

“No. Really. What’s your name? No one is named Bonnie.”

I point to my name tag, and she squints at it. “You’re real name is Bonnie?”

“I’m named after my great-grandmother. Yes. My name is really Bonnie.”

“I stand corrected then. And I apologize.”

“And you are?”

“Jess.” I like her smile more than I should.

“How do you know this lot?” I gesture toward the sounds of the party commencing on the other side.

“The bride to be is my cousin.”

I just knod.

“I will be surprised if they actually make it to the aisle, though.”

I whip my head to look over at her. I love hearing dirt on these kinds of people. “Really?”

She turns her head to look at me, and I notice we’ve somehow managed to get even closer. She’s in my proverbial bubble, and I don’t care. “She cheats on him. A lot. Like all. The. Time. It’s just a matter of time before he figures it out.”

I laugh a little too loudly. “No way.”

A lock of hair had come loose from my claw clip and fallen in my face. “Way.” She’s laughing too as she pushes the lock behind my ear. A gesture that’s way too familiar for two people who’ve just met, but I don’t mind.

“And you? Where’s your significant other?” I instinctively lick my lips as I lose myself in her eyes.

“Ex… I think she’s overseas. I don’t know and don’t care. Who’s waiting for you at home?” She’s even closer. There’s an electric current coursing through the space between us. She’d become the air I was breathing.

“No. No one at home.” My voice was quiet, and my eyes lowered to become transfixed on her mouth.

Before another word was said, the space between us had ceased to exist. Her arms circled around me as she stood between my knees, and her lips met mine. Breathless and hungry. Not slow. Not sweet. Overwhelming and all consuming. Her arms around my waist are the only things keeping me from falling backward. But if I died right now, I would die smiling. My fingers grasped the lapels of her jacket, and a whimper escaped her lips as she nipped my lower lip.

“Bonnie!” A gruff and angry voice from behind her snapped. My boss, George. Fuck.

She backed away, and her pulling away nearly caused me to slide backward to my death.

She grabbed my waist again and steadied me as she helped me down from the wall.

“Bon-nie.” It was my manager. Hearing my name broken up into two distinct syllables, I knew it was bad. Fraternizing with guests was grounds for termination. I was cooked. And without this job, I wouldn’t be able to afford rent.

“I’m sorry,” Jess whispered. Her hands lingered on me, a glint of lingering mischief in her eyes. Her hands slid off me, and she stepped back as George approached.

I looked at him, pleading and guilty, as Jess disappeared around the corner and back with her kind.

He was shaking his head at me. I know he was speaking to me. Well, speaking at me.Firing me. That much was clear. I just didn’t register a word of it. I was trapped in this random, abstract moment of soft lips, pricy cologne, and fine wool silk blend jackets.

I handed George my name tag and my empty tray, then walked in the direction Jess had disappeared.

I scanned the sea of heads and didn’t see her. I pushed through the crowd and through the bifold doors that led into the venue. She wasn’t there either.

Down the stairwell I run as fast as I can without falling and breaking my neck. By the time I made my way outside, I was just in time to watch her get into her car at the valet station. She didn’t look back, and I didn’t have the voice to call out to her.

I look back on this moment and wonder how else I thought this could have ended? A Cinderella story? A whirlwind romance?

It was never meant to be more than this moment.