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Four years ago
A loud knock on my door followed by my father’s annoyed voice added to my agitated state.
“Lucas, hurry up!” he yelled from the hallway.
My throat was clenched. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. I knew they were waiting for me to go to the New Year’s party we were invited to, but I just stood in my room like a statue.
I was planning on kissing a girl tonight.
I had already kissed a girl. Twice.
Kiss number one happened when we were five. I was reluctantly participating in a pretend wedding ceremony with my best friend.
“You can now kiss the bride,” Hannah Spencer squealed, and out of nowhere Clementine leaned in and kissed me on the mouth. It was only for a second. She saw my confused expression and shrugged it off.
“It’s what people do in the movies.”
Kiss number two? The same girl. Even a more awkward situation.
We were twelve. She was balling her eyes out after her mother messed up her birthday cake. I mean how hard was it? She had three kids and three types of cake to remember.
I was sitting with Clem on the floor in her room. It wasn’t the first time I was witnessing her crying over something her mother did or said. I always did something goofy to make her laugh. This time around, however, I sensed she didn’t need a laugh.
She was angry. It was a look I wasn’t used to. She was still crying, but there was something dark about her that day. Her jaws and fists were clenched. Her eyes squinted while she looked down at our feet.
I felt the need to tame her.
Our shoulders touched, but she didn’t show she knew I was there next to her.
I thought about things I could do to calm her down. I reached out to hug her over her shoulders, but I backtracked before I even touched her. I wasn’t used to being so close to girls. She was my best friend, but hugging? I mean, it was weird. How long would I do it? Did I need to say something first?
I decided a quick kiss on the cheek would be enough to make her feel better.
The moment I leaned in with eyes tightly shut, I sensed her moving. Our noses bumped, but it still happened. This timeIkissed her on the lips.
We both pretended it never happened. Never spoke of it. I tried not to even think about it until this fall.
Clementine’s parents divorced in the summer, and her father moved to Seattle. She went for a visit. When she came back, she was changed. There was make up on her face. Her clothes were different. Tighter. Shorter. Her hair was shiny. She looked older. And I started to think of her more as a girl and less as a friend.
Suddenly, I had no idea how to even talk to her. How to be around her. But I knew one thing. I wanted to kiss her again. This time for real.
My father knocked again, and this time he opened the door. My clothes gave him pause.
“What the F are you wearing?”
I was asking myself the same question for half an hour now.
“Mom will freak if she hears you.”
“I didn’t say it. I just said F,” he winked at me.
I thought about asking my father about his first real kiss, but I stopped myself. Instead, I answered his question about the clothes.
“I decided to try something new.”
I usually wore jeans and a tee. Never any of those shirts mom bought for me. They were just hanging in my closet, untouched until she replaced them with new ones when I changed sizes.
Dad made a serious face and nodded. Then narrowed his eyes at me, and a hint of a smile twisted his lips.
