Sense Part Two (installment #12)

Sense: Part II I write. Most often it goes unread, only a lucky few get to skim. This is a piece I've been working on for some time now--not sure if it will be a short story or much longer. It's a work in progress. Suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome.
Working title- Sense Installment # 12 (continued from Jan.22nd)

Last week, George pulled Louca'’s gym shorts while we were running around the basketball field. We saw his tighty whiteys and Louca almost started crying.
At this moment, I don'’t care. Everyone'’s eyes are on us. I feel like I am shooting the scene of some terrible 80s teen movie. The first kiss. I envision something terrible happening, bumping heads, or missing his face, sneezing, sticking my tongue out way too soon, not breathing properly, a fly...before I have time to prepare a plan B in case one of these scenarios occurs, my lips are up against his, a tired head resting on a pillow. His lips, they'’re sweet like cherry chapstick. His tongue surfaces in my mouth. His tongue--it'’s fleshy and wet and feels like a Swedish fish after being in your mouth for a minute. I let my tongue tumble with his, in my mouth, in his, wrestling. I hear someone ask,
"“Are they frenching?" The audience dances around us probing us with their eyes.
"Do you see tongue?"” A girl'’s voice asks.
"I saw tongue! They'’re frenching," there is an unusual awe in the air. Astonishment.
A feat desirable to others, but miles away for most. Until now. Right in front of their noses. The closest they've ever come.