The first time I realised I could read minds was when I was eight. I was a tomboy even back then, preferring trucks and football over dolls and teatime.

It was a warm day in Spring, slightly windy, I remember. I was simply minding my own business, alone as usual, when a boy - Tommy, I think, though the memory's slightly fuzzy now - came up to me with a frantic look on his face.

"BEES!" he shouted right in my face. Up so close, all I remember thinking was what kind of person gets pimples at the age of eight.

Being allergic to bees, I was deathly scared of them and ran away to hide underneath the slide of the playground. It never occurred to me back then to check if the boy was telling the truth.

Tommy followed me along, our tiny little second-grader legs crouched underneath ourselves. It was much too cosy. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around instinctively, about to ask what's going on, when he suddenly planted a huge one on me. Bam. Out of nowhere, my first kiss, stolen by a rude little liar.

As I was being horrendously violated (even though the kiss was tame, even by elementary school standards), I remember cursing him with all the swear words I knew of in my mind, hands trying to push him off. But in those few seconds when our lips were locked, my thoughts were not the only ones in my head.

Oh yuck I like her but this kissing stuff is gross why am I doing it yuck yuck yuck.

From then on, I learnt two things: one, guys tend to think in long strings without filtering or pausing; and two, I can read minds when I'm kissing someone else.


A/N: So this is my new story! I haven't completely abandoned PWF, but I do think I need to rehaul the nonexistent plotline for that story. I haven't got a proper one for this either, but it's going to be much less angsty than PWF. :)