My head was racing as his lips met mine. David and I had been dating steadily for a bit less than a month now, and there it was, the magical first kiss. Oh, I'd kissed other guys before, but I have a belief, actually just a thought that I believe in (Isn't that what a belief is?), that the first kiss of a relationship is like your first kiss, because everything is new and unexplored, so it has that same mystical quality. David's two years older than me. I'm a freshman, Dave's a sophomore. It was kind of cliche how we met. I'm a year ahead of most people my age in math. There are about thirty of us who were pushed ahead. Dave wound up in my math class. His math ability is average. We were assigned to work together on things like homework. I thought he was cute. I'm not sure what he thought of me. He never ceased to smile at me, though. He has a beautiful smile. We flirted for most of the year. Finally, late in March, I asked him to a dance (it was a girls ask guys dance). He accepted. We've been together ever since that dance. Thank goodness, I think we were beginning to nauseate the entire math class with our nonstop flirting. Dave ended the kiss. I have this thing about letting the guy end it, I read somewhere that they prefer it that way. As we hugged goodbye, I put my mouth on his shoulder thinking, "What a sloppy kisser!" After all, its his fault I have saliva on my lips, it's only reasonable that I use his shirt to wipe it off. We said goodbye and I went inside. My father had fallen asleep on the sofa. I smiled to myself as I headed upstairs into my bedroom. I took off my shoes and plopped into bed. I grabbed my journal and my favorite pen and proceeded to write. Unfourtunately, I didn't complete the entry, I fell asleep.
c1998 Butterfly