I lied about my first kiss. I always told people that my second kiss was really my first kiss. That’s not the way it went down. Now, since I’m a slut, I’ll tell you that I kissed him. That first boy. I took his lips. I liked him and he liked me. He lusted after me for the rest of that afternoon. You could tell. When the attention even gets …uncomfortable.
He told his mother …like a pussy. And she made me feel dirty. Standing behind me that next day at school. Talking with our teacher about closet situations, and monitoring students more closely. Of course I heard. Him. Hanging his head. Shame holding it down, but his face was fired-up red in a much different way than it was after I’d kissed him. Stupid pussy. And Fuck You, old bitch. I took it. Nothing you can say about me will ever get it back for him. And he liked it. He still likes it. And you just made sure that he’ll never get another one for a while. Oh, he’ll love you for that.
The next year, he was just someone I remembered.
I was walking outside to Spanish one day. It was so sunny, but not hot. Some girl tapped me on my shoulder and moused me aside of the students lazily making their way into the room. She liked that first boy of mine. She asked me about him. I gave a half-assed laugh and told her not to go kissing him.
He tells his Mother everything.