<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d7917459\x26blogName\x3dfirstkissproject\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://firstkissproject.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://firstkissproject.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d4021338945997668753', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

« Home | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next »

Jenny Williams, California

After Miracles, 1998

The car was dark and we sat parked in his driveway, still in our seatbelts. The mocha I'd gulped at Miracles Cafe an hour back made me fidgety and alert; my fingers tapped the steering wheel, nervous, waiting. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. We were seniors in high school and I was embarrassed, him so experienced and me always awkward, never knowing what came next.

He let out a big breath and turned his face to mine. My eyes flickered up.

"Well then," he said. And kissed me.

It was wet. In all my years imagining the circumstances of my first kiss, not once did I factor saliva into the equation. And soft -- I had no idea lips could be so soft, especially a boy's lips, especially this boy's lips, whose body was so rough with surfing and skating and daredevil tricks. A boy I'd known since preschool, when we chased each other in the school yard and traded chewing gum at lunch. A boy who had become, suddenly and without warning, tall and wind-blown, with bleached hair and a crooked grin.

He pulled back and said nothing, locking his eyes with mind in a measured gaze.

"I'm...I'm sorry," I stammered. "I don't really know..."

He hushed me with a finger.

"Practice. Lots of it. Doctor's orders." Smiling, he kissed me again.

Please keep entries to 500 words or fewer when possible. Your email address, and any other identifying information you choose, will be kept private. By submitting your story, you grant the First Kiss Project copyright and publicity rights. If you do not wish to grant the First Kiss Project these rights, it is suggested that you do not submit to this website. The First Kiss Project is all about sharing, but please don't steal these stories or use them as your own. Thanks.