There was a spark of electricity as their lips met. Unlike some of his classmates, he had some experience here — actual experience, unlike some of the boys who insisted they had done a lot but whom Don Juan secretly suspected of bluffing — but it was still a novel enough occurrence that it was always accompanied by a surge of thrilled half-disbelief: It's really happening! It was a good sign that she'd kissed him, he thought, but that was about as much conscious thought as he had time or space for before dedicating the rest of his brain to ensuring he was doing this right. He still had one hand on her waist and left it there, but didn't know what to do with the other one. After a second he tentatively and somewhat clumsily found the side of her face and cradled her cheek.

Any reservations he might have had about what he was doing or inviting at the moment were forgotten, as his train of thought devolved into something like kissing kissing kissing kissing. Thoughtlessly, he pressed his body up closer to hers and ran his tongue along her lower lip.

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