He was all eyes. This deep, velvety green with flecks of brown in them; looking back, his eyes bring up memories of a forrest in Oregon I'd been to once.
My mom said he reminded her of a young Nicholas Cage in the movie 'Moonstruck'. Was this a good thing? Some blended looking Italian, maybe Greek looking boy? I couldn't be sure, but what I am sure of is that first kiss he gave me. Still pleasant nostalgia, the way every girl's first [kiss] should be.
It was a May afternoon, the renowned Phoenix heat hadn't quite set in yet. We spent some time wandering around an outdoor mall, hand in hand, eventually making our way back to his car. We leaned against the trunk of his secondhand Camry, talking, enjoying the breeze. Yet another thing Phoenix doesn't usually indulge it's residents in, a nice breeze. I remember the sun feeling nice against my skin, and when I looked at him, he had this fixed gaze on me.
"What, what is it?"
He leaned in, and I immediately snapped my eyes shut. I certainly wasn't going to be the creep with her eyes open if he was going to try and kiss me...Wait...Ah, lips. His lips. This is nice. No tongue, ok whew. Is this supposed to be this pleasant? A long minute later, he pulled back, smiled at me, and we got in his car.
Two weeks later, he admitted to making out with his ex Jenny-the-Asian-Girl, in the hall between classes. A vertiable 17 year old bastard.
Luckily, the memory of that first kiss (and boyfriend) isn't tainted by his youthful infidelity. Or the fact that he tried to break-up with me through an email. 14 year old me pretended she never got it, called him up, and broke up with him first verbally, myself being none the wiser. Savvy little teen I was, even then I knew how bootleg an email break-up would be.
Still though, man, that kiss.
-june 26, 2011