Miss-Riah

Her kisses weren’t the kind he had read about; they weren’t tender—filled with longing or passionate. They weren’t shy or simple like most first kisses were. No, they were forceful and hard—almost like he was being knocked with an earth disk during a probending match. The first time she kissed him he had been shocked. He hadn’t seen it coming. They were talking, and he figured he was failing rather miserably at shooting the breeze with her. He blamed himself for it. He talked a big game, but at the end of the day he wasn’t as good with girls as he led everyone to think. He could easily talk to them,