Excerpt of The First Kiss Hypothesis by Christina Mandelski

If more people paid attention to that first kiss, the world might be a better place. I’ve seen what it does, ending up with the wrong person. My parents, for example. Good at first, then boring, then mean, then ugly, and eventually just sad. Speaking of the wrong person, I look up and lock eyes with Eli Costas, strolling toward me with a slight limp. Immediately, my brain short circuits and I forget what I’m doing. Eli. Neighbor, best friend, part-time chauffeur. That hair, dark and wavy, sticking out in ways that invite you to run your fingers through it. The olive skin like a real life Greek god, and eyes that look just like the blue oval in the watercolor sets Mom used to buy me when I was little. He’s tall, and a lacrosse maniac with an upper body to prove it. Your basic unrealistically attractive high school student usually only found in books or movies. The difference is, he’s real, and everyone wants him. Including me. It’s a battle I fight daily. He flashes me a grin. One side of his mouth quirks up higher than the other, and a dimple cuts deep into his cheek. Holy cow. As he moves into my airspace, I force myself to focus on counting the tortoise money. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five. Forty. It always takes me a minute or two to get my bearings when it comes to Eli. To remind myself that nothing can happen between us. It’s a sad story. Of all the kissing I’ve done in the name of science, he was the first. Spring Break, eighth grade, Madison Dunn’s birthday party. My hypothesis was newly formed, and I had a huge crush on him. I was sure that he was the only human I’d ever need to kiss—that he was the lightning, the thunder, the sugar to my sulfuric acid. The night of the party, I decided to prove it. I followed him into the garage, where he’d gone to get a Coke from the extra fridge. With total confidence, I kissed him, hard, on those full lips, right there in the glow of the refrigerator light. It was horrible. He’d just taken a giant swig of soda, which was probably why his lips were so cold. And then they were just…wet. Zero reaction. When it was over, he moved in to try again, but I backed away. It was too late. I shared my hypothesis with him, naively thinking he’d understand. He didn’t. He called me crazy, got mad, and wouldn’t talk to me. It was terrible. There was nothing I could do, though. I had to trust the result. I believed in my hypothesis. The universe had spoken loud and clear, and Eli became the first failed kiss of my experiment.