And the days flew by. After a while, it was simple, really.
The dance came. We danced.
First official date. We dated.
Second date, logged down in a little pocket calendar I kept secret from everyone else. Another movie, this time some romantic comedy that was just as predictable as . . . well, a high school “romance” story. I didn’t like it, but that wasn’t important.
And a few more “outings” (as my mom called them), and then I was at her house, a nice little home on a country road about eight miles from the school. Her family had a few acres of forested area, perfect with a few pocketed clearings and clear crisp sky. The air smelled just a little fresher there, and the stars brighter.
And my first ever kiss. I know, both cliché and a little shameful to admit. It was in one of those clearings, while we were closing our eyes and simply breathing in the air together.
And it was wonderful. And they really were pillow lips, I realized. I just hoped my waterfall-palms weren’t distracting her.