Page 8

CHAPTER 8

JACK

T he street lights cast long shadows across Vanessa's face as we walk away from the food festival. Her fingers twitch near mine, but she keeps pulling back, like a dance where one partner keeps missing their cue. The scent of various cuisines lingers on our clothes – a mix of spices and sweetness that reminds me of home, though not quite the same.

"That Vietnamese coffee ice cream was interesting," I say, watching her expression soften. "The way they blend bitter and sweet – reminds me of how humans approach relationships."

"Only you would turn ice cream into an anthropology lesson." Her laugh carries through the cool evening air.

We stop at a crosswalk. The red hand blinks at us, and I notice how she shifts her weight from one foot to another. Her body language screams uncertainty – incredible how humans telegraph their emotions so clearly, yet often miss these signals in each other.

"I had a wonderful time tonight, Vanessa."

"Me too. Thanks for trying all those weird foods with me. Most guys would've stuck to the burger stand."

"I appreciate experiencing new things. It's what makes life interesting." The light changes, but I don't move. "Would you like me to walk you home?"

"I..." Her pulse quickens – I can almost hear it. "Maybe not tonight. I should probably catch the bus."

"Of course." I smile, keeping my distance despite every instinct telling me to close it. "Thank you for sharing this experience with me. It was enlightening."

"Enlightening?" She shakes her head, but she's smiling. "You really are something else, Jack."

"Good night, Vanessa."

I watch her walk toward the bus stop, noting how she glances back twice before turning the corner. The tension in her body has eased. Good. Sometimes the most effective strategy is knowing when to retreat.

Back in my apartment, I pull up the research database on my tablet. The screen's blue light illuminates my true form as I let the glamour fade – maintaining it takes energy I'd rather spend on research right now.

"Computer, analyze human cultural significance of first romantic kisses."

Thousands of results flood my screen. Movies, books, scientific studies, psychological analyses. Humans put an extraordinary amount of importance on this simple pressing of lips.

"Cross-reference with modern dating expectations and success rates."

"According to current data," the AI responds, "86% of humans remember their first kiss with a new partner in detail, even decades later."

I scroll through countless accounts. The Empire State Building. Paris. Under fireworks. In the rain. During danger. After triumph. The patterns emerge – humans crave novelty and meaning in equal measure.

"Fascinating." I lean back in my chair, horns scraping against the leather. "They've turned a basic biological impulse into performance art."

My fingers trace through historical records. Romeo and Juliet. Gone with the Wind. Spider-Man's upside-down kiss. Each culture adds its own flourishes, but the core remains: anticipation, setting, timing.

"Display psychological impact studies."

The data streams past: dopamine levels, oxytocin release, memory formation. The science is clear – a well-executed first kiss can literally change brain chemistry.

"Computer, what percentage of failed relationships cite a disappointing first kiss as a factor?"

"Twenty-three percent."

I tap my fingers against the desk. Vanessa's previous relationships all failed. The pressure to get this right increases exponentially.

"Show me the top-rated first kiss locations in Twin Oaks."

The list appears, but I dismiss it immediately. Tourist spots and obvious choices won't work. Vanessa deserves something unique, something that speaks to who she is.

I pull up her social media history, cross-referencing her interests with local events. Art. Coffee. Independent music. The pieces start falling into place.

The city stretches below us like a constellation fallen to earth. I've led Vanessa to my favorite observation point – the rooftop of the old Miller Building, where the ambient light pollution is minimal enough to see the stars.

"How did you even find this place?" Vanessa wraps her arms around herself, and I resist the urge to offer my jacket – my elevated body temperature would make it suspiciously warm.

"I like to map the city's quiet spaces. Places where you can think." I gesture to the weathered lawn chairs I'd set up earlier. "The security guard owes me a favor for helping with his daughter's college application."

She settles into one of the chairs, tilting her head back to study the sky. "You know, I used to paint the stars. Before..."

"Before your parents made you stop pursuing art?"

"How did you—" She sits up straighter. "I never told you about that."

"You mentioned taking community college classes. The way you look at gallery windows when we walk past. The sketches on your coffee cup sleeves." I lean back, keeping my eyes on Orion's Belt. "People reveal more than they realize."

"That's..."

I turn to face her, and the city lights catch the amber flecks in her eyes. She's closer now; her chair shifted toward mine without my noticing. The scent of coffee and jasmine fills my senses – her signature perfume mixed with traces of her workplace.

"I make you nervous." Not a question. Her pulse races beneath her skin, visible at her throat.

"Yes. No." She laughs softly. "You make me curious."

Her hand finds my knee, and the touch sends electricity through my skin. I hold perfectly still, letting her set the pace. The stars wheel overhead as she leans in, hesitating just inches away.

"You're not going to analyze this moment too, are you?" Her breath fans across my face.

"I'm finding it rather difficult to analyze anything right now."

She closes the distance, and my carefully maintained control fractures. Her lips are soft, tasting of the chai tea she had earlier. I cup her face, my thumb tracing her jawline as she sighs into my mouth. The kiss deepens, and I have to concentrate to keep my glamour intact as heat floods my system.

When we break apart, her eyes stay closed for three extra heartbeats. "Wow."

"Yeah." My voice comes out rougher than intended.

"That was..." She opens her eyes, and they're darker than before. "Can we do that again?"

Instead of answering, I pull her closer, and this time there's no hesitation from either of us. The kiss is deeper, more certain. Her fingers thread through my hair. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat that sends sparks down my spine.