First Kiss

Her place. He had been working on her for months, looking to get an invitation there, and it had finally happened. They spoke on the phone nightly, they saw each other in school daily, but this was different.

For her, it meant no one around to judge. She could be her, and he could see what it was that he had been chasing. Confident in the knowledge that getting to know her better was exactly what he needed to get away from her, she had finally invited him over.

She asked him to come and help out with some math that was giving her fits. He brought quite a bit of swagger with him on the walk to her place, knowing she was interested in his brain, since most other girls rejected him because of it. Fickle things, girls.

It was a lure. He bought it easily enough. They wouldn't even have to go into her house, they would just sit at the end of the road on the embankment and talk. It was what they did all the time anyway. She was tired of talking, and it was a horrific conflict in her. She wanted more, but she was a "good girl" and good girls didn't do anything more than talk with guys. Guys, she had been forewarned, were bad news. So, if he saw the real her, he would go away, which would be sad, or he would take her, which she wanted, but couldn't voice.

This girl was different, he knew. She was raw temptation, but played it off like she was completely uninteresting. But for him, this trip, it was all about him. Proving he was more than just one of "those guys" that were just after one thing. Not to say he didn't want it, but he wasn't going to take any more than what she would give willingly.

It was late November, the day after Thanksgiving, to be exact. Shorts would be a bad idea, though she would have liked to show him a bit more. A long skirt, even a denim one would be out of the question. Good girls didn't wear skirts when meeting boys. It gives them ideas, she knew. Faded blue jeans and a red knit pullover would have to do. She smiled to herself, knowing that he wouldn't put that much thought into what he would be wearing. She could guess... jeans and tee-shirt. Hell, he'd probably even wear one of his sleeveless tees and pretend he wasn't cold.

His mother stopped him on his way out the door, suggesting a jacket. He shook her off, insisting that he would be fine, he was going to be walking for a while and would be plenty warm enough once he got going. "Be nice to the little hussy," she called as he turned the corner of the driveway, causing him to shake his head.

"She's not a hussy, Mom, just a girl that needs my help," he called back to her. He was hoping there might be something more to the meet, but it wasn't likely. He was going to offer his service, at her request. Something that just couldn't be conveyed over the phone, they both felt, and she was uncomfortable asking for at school. It didn't matter, he was looking forward to the alone time.

She saw him, coming down the road from a ways off. He always seemed to be purposeful in his walk. His stride looked like something a soldier would take... the 30 inch step and all the "natural" motions that went with it. She could even match his steps with a typical 4/4 cadence in her mind, he was that rhythmic.

As he got closer, he could see that she simply sat writing, but there were no schoolbooks that she seemed to be working from. Her little Havanese sat beside her, dutifully guarding as if it were ten times its size. He approached a bit warily when he spotted the dog, as even ankle-biters had a way of getting you if you didn't give them the respect they felt they deserved. When he got close enough, it even sat up and stared at him, challengingly. "You want to call off your bodyguard, or shall I just keep a safe distance?" he asked with some seriousness.

She giggled at the protective little dog, picked it up and moved it over to her right right side, making room for him to sit on her left, patting the ground in a "sit here" gesture. She watched him sit carefully, making sure to keep a safe and respectable distance, which caused her to giggle again.

"What's so damn funny?" he asked, settling in and stretching his legs in front of him, his arms crossed.

"You," she replied, "paranoid of a dog that barely weighs 15 pounds. You're like, ten of him, and you're paranoid he's gonna get you."

He chuckled a bit. "Closer to 12. But, I'm going to give him his space for now. Once he decides that I'm not a threat, I may just take advantage of him being on the other side of you."

"Oh?" she asked, watching him without turning her head. "You're planning on taking advantage of me? I ask for a little help, and you're turning it into this?"

He clenched his jaw. He'd had enough of her teasing for a lifetime, and he'd only seen her for a few seconds today. He was not in the mood. He moved his head toward hers, his words soft, yet the message clear. "Not today. We're not doing this today. Today, there's just you and me, not your friends, nobody to bother you about what takes place but me. If it's gonna be this way, I'll just go back home now, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

She backed her head away, putting on an innocent face. "Getting awfully defensive, aren't we? I just asked a simple question. You were the one suggesting... impropriety"

He stared into her eyes, the merriment within obvious. She was just doing it to torment him, he realized, as she did so many other things. The sparkle within her eyes reflected the ice within his. He needed to get a grip. Best to change the subject. "So," he began, the edge not completely lost from his voice, "what was so urgent that I had to get dressed and cruise over here to help out with? You look like you're just writing something to me."

"Lyrics," she answered quietly, holding her notebook up for him to read. "Next week marks ten years."

He read the word at the top of the page, Imagine, and didn't need to read any further. He felt all the tension leave him. This was something real for the both of them, as music was their common ground. "I was in kindergarten that year," he said with a touch of sadness. "I vaguely remember hearing about it, but it wasn't a big deal in my house. My parents weren't big Lennon fans."

"What about you?"

"Oh, I've grown to like him. From Imagine all the way back to his days of "no, really, I wasn't on acid when I wrote this" with the Beatles."

She giggled at the remark. "You sound like my dad."

"Oh? Somehow I doubt your father thinks about you like I do."

"Probably not," she shrugged. "Then again, I bet he does know what you're thinking."

"That his "innocent" little girl keeps me up at night?"

"Actually, he's told me he's had that exact thought about him staying awake since these," she looked down at her chest, "showed up."

"Rightly so," he commented, also taking an extended look

She glanced in his direction and caught him staring. "Hey!" His eyes met hers again, and this time he wore a cheshire grin to accompany the icy blue. "Remember intelligent conversation?"

"You brought 'em up. You're the one dragging this down"

She smacked him solidly in his chest with the back of her hand, causing him to grin a bit wider. "Asshole," she muttered, turning her back to him.

"Soooo..." he said after a time, letting her get fully into her huff. "You ask me over her to help with your homework, but instead of that, you're re-writing Lennon, luring me into improper conversation and abusing me. Any more surprises planned?"

She whipped her head around to offer a bit more sass, but found herself a little too close to him, and the bastard was still grinning. "Oh, I've got a surprise for you," she thought. Grabbing him by his shoulders, she pushed him to the ground.

"If you want to wrestle, we should definitely find softer ground." He watched her, still holding his shoulders down, as she moved around for better leverage. She was uncertain, he knew, as he saw the idea of straddling him cross her face, and then quickly rejected the thought. "You're not strong enough to hold me down this way, you know. What do you think you're going to do to keep me down?"

She brought her face down to his, their noses almost touching. "This," she whispered, brushing her lips over his. It was her last coherent thought as she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her body in line with his

"Spearmint," he thought, feeling her breath pour into his mouth. "She tastes like spearmint." He felt her weight against him before he realized that he had moved her there. Bringing his hand up to her neck, he tangled his fingers in her long soft hair, and took complete possession of her. Their first kiss would be memorable for the both of them.

She felt the air leave her as his mouth met hers. She was sure she could taste caramel, but that thought was quickly abandoned by the stirring in her soul. All she knew was him, and his closeness. The feeling of his lips tight against hers, followed by his tongue caressing hers, and eventually to his teeth nibbling her lower lip.

Temporarily sated, he felt the need to see her eyes again. They were closed, as she panted for breath. He whispered her name. It took her almost a minute to calm down enough to breathe normal, and her eyes fluttered open. Still whispering, he continued, "don't make me wait that long again."

She nodded her head and brought her mouth down again...