The First

I was sixteen when I had my first kiss.
I had never dated anyone, never shared love notes, never held hands.
But there I was in the orchestra room, with a tongue shoved in my mouth and hands running up and down my back, lingering whenever they passed over my bra.
It had started innocently enough. I liked to tease people, go in for the kiss and stop a centimeter away, breathe in their scent as they stood in shocked silence. It was almost a trademark, the swoop-in, the meeting of gazes, laughter.
So I wasn't really concerned when he pulled me into the room, ducked down for a kiss and stopped right before contact. We smiled, tilting our heads back and forth, teasing.
"I kind of want to," he said, his voice low, almost purring.
He had allergies and one eye was red and droopy.
"I know," I replied, giggling.
And that was it. We made out, left the room, pulled each other back in. Students walked by and we were thrilled.
He called me that night, sighed into the phone.
"I've been crushing on you for awhile now..." I was delighted, enthralled with the idea of someone liking me, thinking about me, fantasizing about me. Masturbating about me. "But, you see, I'm kind of in love with this other girl, and... you know..."
I did know. I wasn't really hurt; he didn't mean anything to me.
"Yeah," I replied, smiling despite myself. "Well, you know, if you ever just want to hook up... You know, you can call me."
He was taken aback. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."
And he did. Sixteen year old me, never having dated, never having shared love notes, never having held hands, sat in the passenger seat of his truck as he moved his fingers inside and out of me, bra on the floor, dress pulled down to the waist.
The reality of it hit me after the fourth car passed and we had to duck, cramped, in order to avoid getting caught.
"Take me home," I said, suddenly feeling ill.
"Why?" he asked, his fingers still probing me, his unwashed hair skirting across my neck.
"Please." I was getting a little desperate, a little fearful. He sat back, held the steering wheel, looked back at me.
"Could you at least blow me?" I shook my head. I had never even held hands.