It was a very hot summer nite in August of '86. I had just turned 16. I could smell his Drakkar cologne mixed in with the exhaust fumes from his father's maroon Chevette. As we quickly rounded the corner I heard the squeak of the breaks. I didn't want to look up. I didn't want the ride to end.
Janet Jackson's When I Think Of You was blaring from the radio speakers. The windows were rolled down. I felt the warm humid breeze blowing through my hair as I turned to glance over at him. He gently touched my hand with his. His hand was big and strong overpowering mine. I wanted his big arms wrapped around me. I could feel goosebumps riding up my spine. As his hand lightly squeeze mine I felt very warm and tingly. It was the first time a boy ever held my hand. I was too shy to look in his eyes but I could almost feel his smile. The moonlight coming through the car window showered light on our hands. The moment seemed never ending. I wanted time to stop.
I felt his hand gently pull mine closer to him as if to lead me into his arms. The other hand touched my face. I was afraid he could hear the sound of my knees shaking. And just like that I felt his lips quickly touch mine. It was a soft, wet kiss that brought the goosebumps back again.
So unsure of what to say or do I said goodbye and practically jumped out of the car. I could feel my smile getting bigger as I approached my house. I turned to look back at him and heard the whirring of the engine getting louder. I was just about to wave when I heard "Cath...is that you?" in my mom's concerned voice billowing out of the kitchen window. Rolling my eyes with a sigh escaping my breath I clicked the latch on the door. I walked inside, headed straight for the stairs and up to my room. As I felt myself bounce on my bed belly flop style I licked my lips. I touched them as if something big had just happened. I tried to remember the feeling, the softness of his mouth. All of the other sounds in the house were quickly drowned out by the song playing in my head. I began to replay that moment. A thousand times would never be enough. I could only hope it would happen again.
Little did I know at the time but I had just shared my first kiss with the man I would someday marry...
Do you remember your first kiss? How old were you? Is it a fond memory or something you would rather forget?