"Oh, no, no," he heard himself saying immediately, because she was apologizing and he was embarrassed and he hadn't thought she was bad at all. Perhaps if he had been some sort of Don Juan type himself, he would have picked up on the awkwardness and hesitation that always accompanied a first real kiss, but it wasn't as though he had a wealth of experience to draw from. Most of the kissing in his life had been first kisses, because it wasn't as if he'd had any prolonged affairs except for his one-time fiancee — and even then, they had mostly been exchanging letters, not running off and cavorting around in bushes. From his perspective, the entire thing had seemed like a very intricate and sweet sort of play between the two of them, and it had been wholly enjoyable — but, of course, he had no idea how to articulate as much.

"That was — I mean it wasn't —" he stumbled, realizing as he groped for words that she might have taken his abruptly ending the interlude as a sign that he wanted it to end, which had been rather the opposite of the truth. He couldn't say that, however, because he had no proof whatsoever that she had enjoyed it the same way that he had, and he didn't want to force her to say as much. It wasn't as though she had chosen to kiss him, after all, or given him any signs that she wanted him to, which made the whole matter incredibly awkward and almost impossible to talk about.

"It was nice," he finally said, glancing down at the ground as he spoke before forcing himself to look her in the eye again.