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Blue Summer Dress (Anon., 16)

We'd been dating for exactly two months and seven days. I was sixteen, and he was seventeen. Absurd, some would say, that we hadn't kissed yet. I agreed, but I was too nervous to do anything about it. We were at my Sweet 16 party in August, on the beach, at night. I wore a flowing blue summer dress; he was dressed in jeans and a blue button-down to match me. We were both barefoot. The sun was going down, the waves crashed onto the shore, and everything was perfect. It was warm outside, but not sticky. There was a slight breeze, but not enough to give me a chill. I don't remember what we were talking about. I don't know who saw, though theoretically, it could have been any of my thirty friends, my parents, or my brother. He leaned down to kiss me. I don't know how I knew it was coming, but I did. It was amazing. There were fireworks later than night over the ocean, and we sat, curled up, watching together. You may call it a cliché, but I didn't see it that way. It was the most memorable night of my life.

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