Hey Sparklers! We're bringing you a new, true first kiss story every morning for the entire week! Enjoy! —Sparkitors
As a NBK 15-year-old, things were not looking good. It was only a month until my sixteenth, and I was just DYING to have my first kiss. Most of my friends had already had theirs, and I just wanted to understand all the hype.
My neighbour was having this potluck for the street, but the adults were boring me with their talk about taxes and mortgages, so I listened to my inner-kid voice, which demanded I go and play with the little kids downstairs. Things developed into a game of the Monster Behind the Mattress. One of the bigger kids would hide behind this mattress, and try to scare one of the little children running around. As the older kids got hungry, things slowed down until it was only myself and this one other guy hiding behind the mattress in the basement in the dark.
His name was Christián, and he was already sixteen and could drive. He had long, blonde, flowing hair that fell into his eyes. He was six-foot-something, so almost a foot taller than me, and he was gorgeous. Since I thought he was cute, I slowly inched myself closer and closer to him. We needed an excuse to stay there, so every once in a while, he would poke his hand out of the side of the mattress, and we would hear the delighted scream of the little children. We were breathing heavily, since I'm pretty sure we both knew what was happening - or what was going to happen, rather.
He reached out one arm and pulled me towards him, and I put my arm around his neck, hoping it would be the right move. It was. He was lowering his head, and I was raising mine, not completely sure if I was doing anything right. Our lips met, we kissed, I bit his lower lip (I read it in a Cosmo magazine, there was this article on kissing in it) and he put his hand between my legs. At that point, I backed away from him, mumbled that my phone was ringing and ran out of there.
We haven't talked since.