The kiss I like to think of as my first happened when I was 16. I guess from the outside, the circumstances leading up to it were pretty mundane, but to me, that kiss will always be a true epic.
I had been friends with Harper since we were 12 years old. He told me I looked like a hooker; I chased him down the hall. You know, the start of a beautiful friendship and all that.
He was my "date" to the grade 8 graduation dance, although we never actually danced together. He was funny and smart and kind, but often awkward. We always seemed to be paired up to read Shakespeare aloud in English class. He would stumble and laugh over love scenes, voice cracking at inopportune moments while I rolled my eyes, embarrassed, determined to get it over with and no end of annoyed that he wouldn't just spit it out already.
It really bothered me when people said we should date (what's that river in Egypt called?). He was my go-to guy for advice about guys I was dating.
When I played the French Maid in our high school show at 15, he was the only guy to try to help me cover up instead of telling me he had "something you can dust over here, baby!"
It was around this time that I looked at him and thought. "Hmm."
He was protective of me. When I dated the guy with the convertible, I had to stop him from throwing rocks at it.
I spent several months agonizing over the thought that I was nothing more than a sister to him in that special way that only a teenage girl can agonize. By that time I was pretty certain that he and I should be together, and I was pretty certain I would die alone, sitting loveless atop a mountain peak and eating yesterday's cold, soggy cereal until the end of time.
Then one day we were at a party, the two of us squished into one chair. I was flirting away like my life depended on it (because it did, duh). He was... well, who knows what he was doing, I was busy trying to breathe properly and look pretty at the same time.
When it was time for me to leave, I insisted he walk me to the door. I don't remember what either of us said, but as I turned away and stepped down the stair to the door, I felt something graze the top of my head.
"Did you just kiss my hair?"
And then it happened. I'm sure it was over in seconds, but for those seconds everything else in the world just fell away.
All the way home, sitting beside my dad in the car, I could barely keep myself inside my skin. If I didn't concentrate on every molecule, I would just disolve into glitter, fly out the window and be scattered into the night.
That kiss just kept on going. It wouldn't quit. It sent an electric shiver all the way down my spine. I felt that kiss in the soles of my feet, and at 16 years old, that kiss crashed me headfirst into my first love.
This is my entry for 20sb's January Blog Carnival