Not-worth-it

Her lips were on my own before I could respond, their softness brushing against mine. It was a chaste kiss, short and quick, a testing the waters kind of kiss, and I feel her warm breath against my face as she leaned back away, unsure of my response. The moment the kiss finishes, the very second we were no longer in contact, the cold realisation settles in the pit of my stomach. Of course. "Oh," I say. "Oh?" she says. "Uh," I say, and draw back slightly, I've done it again, haven't I, "I don't know how to tell you this, but..." I watch as her face flushes deeply, and her mouth opens and closes. A hand shoots up to her forehead and she looks like she wants to die on the spot, "Oh my god, you're straight! I'm sorry, I didn't realise - I thought, you know, we held hands, and you said you liked my hair and oh my god, that's just what friends do, right - I don't even know what I was thinki-" Gingerly, I reach for her hand and try to think of how to phrase it so it wouldn't hurt her