The Last First Kiss

Friday night in the city feels like a liberation after a week of work. The three of us–Claire, Daisy, and Rory–have been roommates since our second year of college, bonded by late-night study sessions that quickly evolved into therapy sessions over cheap wine. Now, at twenty-six, we’re still together, sharing a slightly-too-expensive apartment downtown that none of us could ever afford alone. 

Tonight, the bar we’ve chosen is alive with the perfect energy for a Friday night out–crowded enough but not so packed that getting drinks becomes a contact sport. The lights cast  everyone in the flattering amber glow that can make you the kind of mysterious look, that makes people think you have a story worth telling. 

“I can’t believe Sam actually said that to you,” Daisy says, twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. Her blonde hair catches the light as she shakes her head in disbelief. “As if three months of dating suddenly gives him the right to weigh in on your career choices.”

I sigh, taking another sip of my vodka water with two lemons. “I know… That’s why I ended it. I’m not about to have someone tell me my career isn’t a ‘real profession’ when their only aspiration is to become a Tiktok influencer.”

Rory snorts, nearly choking on her gin and tonic. Her curls bouncing as she laughs. “Jeez, Claire. We need to find you a man to rebound with tonight.” She jokes. 

“Eh, I think not,” I reply, scanning the room absentmindedly so I can avoid their knowing glances. “You know I don’t do one night stands. It doesn’t appeal to me at all.” 

“Just one night of fun Claire. Then you can get back to your hunt for the perfect man,” Rory argues.

The truth is, I’m tired. Tired of dating apps and the unspoken expectations that go along with them. Tired of the never ending first dates that go nowhere, of getting my hopes up only to be disappointed. Tired of the dating game. Rolling my eyes I announce, “I am done with dating. I am swearing off dating for the next month… and I’m not looking for a rebound tonight. I just want to have a night out with no expectations.” 

“What you need,” Daisy says, ehr eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint that always means trouble is near, “is something spontaneous. Something completely outside of your comfort zone.”

“Here we go,” Rory mutters into her drink with a smirk. She gives us a knowing glance. I am far too competitive to say no and Daisy has no boundaries. 

“I dare you,” Daisy continues, leaning forward as if to whisper a secret that only we can here, “to kiss the first stranger you make eye contact with for longer than 10 seconds.”

I nearly spit out my wine. “Yeah right. Are you insane? That’s–that’s… never going to happen.”

“I’m not saying go tackle the next guy you make eye contact with. I’m saying to make eye contact, act like a normal human being, throw in some flirting, tell them it’s a dare if that’ll help,” Daisy argues. 

“This feels like a bad idea,” I protest. She is known for having some unhinged ideas. 

“When was the last time you did something unexpected, Claire?” Rory asks quietly. Her subtle way of saying that I should lighten up a bit. The question that hits a little to close to home. Because they’re right. Of course they are. They’re my best friends. And I have become predictable, safe. Boring, even to myself. 

“Fine,” I say, finally giving in. “But I am only promising to be spontaneous. And if I do find a handsome, random stranger and he rejects me, you’re both paying for my therapy.” 

“Deal,” they say in unison. Clinking their glasses against mine simultaneously.

“Alright. Take a lap and see if we need to move on to the next bar,” Daisy says enthusiastically. 

I scan the bar more purposefully now, my mind racing at the absurdity of what I’ve just sort of agreed to. 

The bar is filled with the usual Friday night crowd–friends, couples, happy hour goers who’ve just walked in after a late work day. 

And then–there he is. Standing by himself near the far end of the bar, waiting for the drinks he’d ordered. I could just barely make out his profile. Dark hair that falls just shy of his eyes, strong jawline, a small scar above his right eyebrow. He’s wearing a simple navy button-down rolled up at the sleeves, revealing forearms marked with what looks like an intricate tattoo hidden by the fabric. 

As if sensing my eyes taking slow inventory of his frame, he looks up and we make direct eye contact. 

One… two… three… I start counting. 

Four… five… six… 

He doesn’t break our connection. And the longer we stare at each other, the more it seems like there is a question forming in his eyes, a slight tilt of his head has my cheeks starting to burn. 

Seven… eight… nine… ten

I am only mildly embarrassed that my friends are watching me stare down this man across the bar. I can feel their silent encouragement. 

“That’s him,” Daisy whispers, nudging me forward. “Go see if he is single.”

My legs suddenly dead weight felt foreign as I started to move them. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter to myself, trying to gain some amount of confidence and charisma as I make my way over. 

A slight look of surprise flits across his face before he masks his surprise at my advance. Up close, his eyes are a deep brown, and there’s a slight, curious smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

“Hi,” I say, my voice comes out steadier than even I expected. “This is going sound weird,” I start out, rambling my way through this painful, childish explanation, “but my friends dared me to kiss the first person I made eye contact with and it turns out that you are that person.”  I gesture behind me and Daisy and Rory make a show of trying to hide their undisguised interest in what we are discussing. 

He studies me for a long moment, so long that I start to shift my weight back and forth between each leg. He clocks my growing anxiety, then glances over my shoulder at my friends. 

Leaning forward he smirks when he says, “That is ‘weird’ as you call it. I’m Jack,” he says as he extends his hand to me. 

“Claire,” I say as I offer up my hand in return. 

“Well Claire,” he says, setting his drink down on the bar and fully facing me. “I can’t be teh one to make you lose a dare.” 

And then he’s tugging me into him, pulling my hand forward slow enough that I could step back if I wanted to. But I don’t. His other hand comes up to gently grab the side of my face, and then his lips are on mine. Soft at first and then with more certainty. 

The sound of the bar fades and it’s just the two of us, embroiled in this strange, unexpected way. His lips have a faint taste of whisky, and something I can’t quite place. 

We only pull apart when one of his friends makes a coughing noise behind him. Breathless, the reality of what just happened washes over me like a bucket of ice cold water. Not because the kiss was bad. No. It was amazing. 

I take a step back blurting out, “I’m sorry. That was–thanks for that.” 

Jack looks at me with a guarded expression. I swear he was going to pull me back towards him until he gave me a quick nod of understanding. 

I turn on my heel and start heading to back to my friends. When I’m about 5 feet away, I look over my shoulder and find his eyes tracking each step I take. 

Once our eyes meet again a rush of confidence finds its way into my brain and I say, “If you ever find yourself in need of a stranger to save you from a dare, come and find me.”