I watched as Chris, one of my best friends since…always, walked along the aisle of the bus, his wet shoes from the rain leaving footprints on the floor. He came down to sit next to me. "Hey," he said, after kissing my cheek.
I kissed him back as the bus began to move. "Where's Dane?" I asked, looking over his shoulder in search of his younger brother.
Dane was a year younger than myself, though Chris was a year older than me.
"He went over one of his mate's house," Chris said, dropping his bag carelessly in the aisle.
"Oh ok. Is it still ok if I stay over your place tonight?" I asked, after a couple of minutes when we were nearly at our stop. "Mom and dad couldn't get Bill to come over."
It was the last day of school for the term and both our parents had driven up to the coast for the beginning of the holidays. Something they did every second school holidays, as our families had been good friends since before I was born. I stood as the bus came to a halt.
"So it'll be just us?" I asked, following Chris off the bus.
"Mmm, Dane's not coming back till Sunday," Chris explained, grinning at the thought of his younger brother not being around for two days.
I smiled. "So it's only you and me?" I admit I hadn't spent much time with him lately and it seemed like nice idea to spend the weekend with him.
He began, crossing the road with me, holding my hand. Ever since I was little I used to be terrified of the traffic, and ever since I was little he held my hand, even though I wasn't scared of moving traffic anymore... just a silly habit we'd fallen into. "Yeah, and I'm not much of a cook –" he began, "so unless you wanna make something, I was thinking of just ordering Pizza or Thai."
"Sounds good." My leg caned after running around the school that morning. I'd had training for the cross country, and I slipped whilst running down a bank to the oval just after the 4.5 kilometre mark.
He noticed me limping slightly, "What'd you do?"
"Cross country training…and 'cause of the rain, I slipped running down a bank."
"You're such a dumb-ass," he said, grinning, "come here, I'll give you a piggy-back."
I giggled. "I honestly haven't had one of these since the seventh grade."
Chris stopped in front of me, and I jumped onto his back. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, laughing as he spun around.
An elderly woman was eyeing us like we were mad. "Yeah, we're pretty funny looking, aren't we?" Chris asked her. The woman looked uncomfortable began gardening.
Chris let me slide down easily as they reached the top of the stairs of his house. He unlocked the door and let me inside.
We sat on the couch for a while, eating and watching the TV.
"Feel like throwing a wild party, getting either stoned, pissed or laid?" I asked at 6:30. I didn't believe that was the time either, but Chris told me later that I'd fallen asleep.
"The painters just finished that wall," he explained, "and we had it painted because of my last party."
I stood up and walked sleepily to the kitchen. "You hungry now?"
"Yeah I am actually," he said, stretching.
"Well I'll order now. What'll it be – I kinda feel like Pizza." I leant my forearms against the kitchen bench.
"Yeah I'll have that," he said, peeking his head over the back of the couch to look at me.
"Ok," I said, standing up again. I moved to the telephone and made the call.
After hanging up I felt a pair of arms around me. I rested my arms on his, and turned my head to see his (in my peripheral vision) head against my back. "Chris?" I asked cutely.
"Mm-hmm?" he asked, his eyes closed.
"No…I just haven't hugged you in a while."
I began to feel a little awkward, though I admit I love to be touched. I pulled him off reluctantly. "I'm gonna go get changed into my Pyjama's. Mind if I use your room?"
"Nah, I'll just get mine then get changed in the bathroom."
We raced each other up the stairs, which was pretty stupid because when we were kids, Chris, Dane and I would play tag, and running the stairs was always the part that caused the most injuries. Once I'd split my lip, Dane had broken a wrist and Chris had come out with minor concussion.
After changing I came back down the stairs to find Chris already waiting on the couch. I half lay on him until the pizza arrived.
I had to answer the door because Chris wouldn't move. I was wearing a long sleeved button up pyjama top and matching pants. I don't think the delivery boy minded.
I put the pizza on the coffee table along with soft drink and two cups. Chris slid off the couch to sit next to me on the ground.
We watched TV for a while, talking and eating at the same time.
"So what happened with you and Libby?" I asked, helping myself to another slice.
Chris shrugged. "It didn't work out."
"She was only after what's in your pants?" I joked.
Chris laughed, but kind of sadly.
I felt sorry for him. It sounds a little weird, but Chris didn't have much luck with girls. He was gorgeous, that was for sure. He loved his football, he loved his friends, and unlike a lot of people with this sort of package, he was smart. I think he's been dumped about four times by different girls who've said, 'you're too nice. I don't deserve you, it won't work.'
He was one of the only guy I knew who didn't want to go around screwing random girls or going out with people in the eighth grade just so he could get some. It wasn't like he didn't have sexual desire. I've seen some dirty mags in his underwear draw – where he kept all that sort of thing (don't ask how I know) and you'll find that when you're friends with someone that long (especially through puberty) you always notice the visible things. I always felt embarrassed when it was me he was looking at. I confess I felt kind of flattered that someone had felt that way about my body.
Sometimes it was like he was better than all that, and I admired that he was different from most of the other guys at school.
I patted his hand, and rested it on top for a little while.
We eventually moved back up to the couch after eating and wrapped a blanket around each other. Chris wanted to watch Pearl Harbour, but I don't think he knew how much romance was in it.
I remember running my hand lazily down his arm and leaving it on his hand, and he held mine. That's something I really liked about our relationship. We were friendly and comforting towards each other, because we both knew how little we were touched by anyone other than each other, and I think it made each other feel better, like no matter what, one of us would always be there.
After watching less than half of Pearl Harbour (Chris was sick of it), we watched Swordfish, then the Matrix, then admitted we were tired, climbed back up the stairs and went to bed.
I had to sleep on the mattress on the floor next to Chris's bed, which you can imagine, I wasn't too excited about. We talked a little then turned the light off and went to sleep.
It had been a hot day that morning, then it rained, and now I was getting cold, especially my feet. I tightened my blankets around me, but I could still feel it.
After trying to sleep for almost an hour I sat up and peeked my face over the edge of Chris's bed. "Chris…" I called softly.
"Yes?" he asked, sleepily.
"My feet are really cold…and my socks are probably still wet. Do you have a spare pair I can borrow?"
He thought for a moment, probably trying to stay awake. "Yeah, in the top draw of my cupboard."
I retrieved the torch he had left by my mattress in case I needed to go to the bathroom during the middle of the night. I then got up and crawled over to the cupboard, and used it to help me stand up.
I shone the light on the cupboard. There were two top draws. I was about to ask him again, but decided not to bother him.
I opened the one on the right first. I was about to shut it immediately when I first saw what must've been his porno mags, but then I saw a framed photo. I pulled it out, wondering which girl he would've cared about enough to frame a picture of her. It was me.
As soon as I shone the torch on it I remembered when he took it. He took it last summer holidays when his family and mine drove up the coast. We were at the beach, and I'd just gotten out of the water in my bikinis and I was bending over, leaning on my knees, grinning at the camera.
I turned around, still surprised, to look at him. "Chris?" I asked.
He sat up slowly and looked at me. "What's wrong?" He read my expression then looked at the photo I was holding.
"Why is a picture of me in the same draw as your pornos?"
Even in the faint light I knew his eyes were widening. He crawled to the edge of the bed. "Shit – I-" he was just as shocked as I was.
I turned and put the photo back in the draw and shut it. Knowing only looking at it, or seeing him look at it would make the situation more awkward than it already was.
He looked at me, and then looked away. "I – I have no idea when it started…I just woke up and I realised that all along…" he trailed off.
"All along what?"
He looked up at me. "Realised how all along much I really care about you…more than a friend."
I swallowed and he looked away again. I took a couple of steps towards him, until I was standing right in front of him. I think he was too nervous, shocked that I'd found out and embarrassed to look me in the eye.
I surprised myself by touching the lower part of his cheek. "When you used to bring your girlfriends over, and I'd seen you two kissing, no matter who I was with, I used to always wonder what life would what it'd be like to be in her place…I think I subconsciously always knew…"
After a couple of seconds, where he took what I'd said in, he looked up at me, then took my hands in his and kissed them. Very gradually, I moved closer to him, then he pulled me down slowly to sit on him.
Our lips slowly moved to each other's, as my hands moved up his chest. I'd always dreamt about this sort of kissing – the slow but passionate touch. His tongue slipped into my mouth as mine pressed against his. My breathing was heavy and full, just like our kisses. But the friction of each other's lips grew even more passionate. A very soft moan escaped my lips as he laid soft kisses starting from the top of my neck coming down to the bottom, he rested his forehead on my shoulder and I held his head lovingly while he kissed as much of the top of my chest without moving.
He breathed slowly but surely, looking down at me, wondering to continue. He eventually chose to, and began to kiss my skin again. His hands came up to the top of my pyjama top and began to slowly undo the buttons. Beneath me, I could feel his reaction to my naked chest. He slipped my top off my shoulders, and rested his forehead on my shoulder once more, kissing the hollow of my collarbone, loving the sight bellow him as much as I loved his touch.
My hands came down (from behind) to the bottom of his shirt, and moved up underneath it – his skin warm and soft. After feeling his shoulder blades, they came back down to slip his t-shirt over his head.
I felt his stomach tense as my hand trembled across it. I'd always loved the sight of a guy with nice abdominal and pectoral muscles. I moved a hand up his heated body and ran a finger over his left nipple; it tensed as I massaged it with my index finger. I did the same to the other.
He lifted me up to standing position and pulled my pants down slowly. I think he was a little disappointed that I was wearing undies.
To be honest, I was embarrassed, especially of what lay underneath my undies. I tried to distract him by slipping his boxers off first, hoping that if he wasn't shy, then maybe I'd feel a little braver too.
I confess, I did like what lied underneath his boxers, and he was probably glad that I was.
I think he sensed I was self conscious of my body, and as he pushed my underwear down to my knees, he looked into my eyes reassuringly.
I moved back down to sit on him again. He kissed my lovingly, as he wrapped a sheet around our lower bodies to keep us a little warmer.
Chris lifted me on top of him, and as I began to feel him inside me, I let out a painful gasp and tensed, not meaning to. He pulled himself out slightly. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.
I didn't want to say it, but I had to tell him. "…I hurts - " I know it sounded dumb, but I had to start somewhere, "and this is my first time…"
He paused. "It's mine too…" I felt him wrap his arms around me and I moved a little closer to him and let him enter me once again. He brought a hand down to my hips to help me move in time with his motions and the pain eventually faded.
With every one of his thrusts I let out a quiet moan, and although I knew he was doing similar, I was too fixated on the wonderful feelings he was causing me to hear them.
We became a little louder as he moved even deeper inside me. "I'm coming…" he breathed, just loud enough for me to hear. My head lulled back, his thrusts were still slow but were becoming harder.
I tightened my arms around him as I felt him spill himself inside me. Suddenly a wave of pure pleasure passed over my body just before his thrusts slowed down rapidly.
After he removed himself from me slowly, we still sat against each other, panting. He rested his head on my shoulder as my chest heaved for oxygen.
Chris slowly pulled me back to lie in his bed beside him.
I lay with my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and his chest rising and falling slowly. He put his hand under my chin to bring my eyes up to meet his. He stooped down and kissed me softly. "I really do love you," he said, which was pretty rich coming from him; because I used to think he'd never tell anyone that.
I smiled, "I love you too." I placed my head back down on his chest. I drew soft circles with my nails just along the top of his skin, which was all I had energy to do at this point. I think he felt the same way because he only ran his hand up along my back a couple of times before falling asleep.
I woke fairly late; I think it might've been 11 o'clock. After looking up at Chris sleeping peacefully, I found it hard to get up and stumble off to the bathroom in the room next to his.
I turned on the shower, feeling the warm water run over my body felt more refreshing than usual.
I washed my hair and cleansed my face when I heard footsteps passing over the tilled bathroom floor.
The door of the shower opened and a pair of familiar arms brought themselves around me. I leant back as he kissed my shoulders. I could already feel him harden as a hand came up my stomach to cup one of my breasts. He caressed it and held it firmly, but I could tell he wasn't really in a sexual kind of mood – he was in a holding and cuddling mood.
"No regrets?" he asked.
"No regrets," I assured him, closing my eyes and smiling as he held me tighter. So there I was – I lost my virginity when I was 16, to a guy that was 17 who I think I'd loved nearly all my life. Nothing seemed to matter to me now as much as him – because I'd finally had who I'd always wanted, and even though I was still young, I knew we'd always be together.