I know it was senior year, but I can't remember the exact moment in time like I can with other first kisses. I vividly remember my first kiss. I remember the first kiss from other boys, but I can't remember the first time he kissed me. I know I wrote about it, in one of the many volumes of journals I kept at the time. Every last detail, down to what we wore, how we tilted our heads, if noses bumped, where it happened, and exactly how it felt. I know it was at school. That's where everything occurred between us. The scandal that was 'us'. You can't be a senior dating a freshman without scandal.
I do remember, how his heart sounded when I laid my head against his chest in class. I remember spending more time listening to that sound, than my Spanish teacher. I remember holding his hand until both our palms were clammy with sweat. I remember letting go simultaneously, quickly rubbing my hand against my skirt, and then linking fingers again. I remember our fights. Always over something ridiculous because of my quick temper. I remember the perfect red rose in my locker, and the handwritten note that went with it. I remember the feel of his hair as I ran my hands through it in the cafeteria. How he towered over me, and enveloped me with his hugs. I remember...I remember dancing with him, and experiencing that moment everyone talks about, where its just the two of you in a crowded room.
I remember one kiss more vividly than most. More recent than high school so that aids the memory. He was driving, and held my hand across the center console as always. For some reason our palms less sweaty than in high school. It was pouring down rain, and we were on twisting, winding middle of no where country roads. The kind of roads, I was sure, if we drove off no one would find us for days. Every curve found me white knuckling my seat with one hand, and white knuckling his hand with the other. I prefer to drive myself in bad weather. He just chuckled every time.
'Don't you trust me?', he asked me.
We came to a stop where one road dead ended into another. I was still gripping my seat, staring dead ahead trying to breath deeply. I heard his seat belt click open and turned my head. I felt his hand on the side of my face, and then he kissed me. I smelled his cologne, felt his stubble scratch me lightly. That wasn't there in high school. I didn't move. I couldn't really. He kissed me, and I felt a jolt from the top of my head and down my legs. My fingers tingled and my lips stung. My heart pounded. My stomach dropped and then flipped. This kiss. This simple kiss to reassure me, and take my mind of the road affected me that much. It wasn't a long, just a moment. He pulled back and smiled at me in the impish way he does. When he knows he has won. Leaned back to the drivers seat, and put his seat belt back on. I raised my hands to my mouth, in the most cliche way possible thinking all these years later and his kiss still does that.
I can't remember the last time he kissed me.
So well written, Whitney. You never remember the last kiss because you never think that it will be <3
This is great, but now you've gotten me thinking about all the things and those other things and I don't need to be thinking about ALL THESE THINGS while at work.
Beautifully written! I always remember the firsts never the lasts
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