Jon

Before my senior year of high school, I took a summer job as a camp counselor. I was familiar with the camps, having previously been a camper, but was still frightfully shy at the prospect of not only responsibility, but also meeting new people and having to tolerate and endure their judgment. So for the camp's orientation (a grueling eight-hour long event in which we were all stuffed in a cafeteria and made to listen to near-useless information) I kept mostly to myself, listening to the jokes and conversations of those around me instead of participating in them. Everyone was interesting, full of life, comfortable.
There was one man who particularly caught my eye. I say man because he was so much older than me, entering his third year of college with a whopping four year age difference between us. He even carried the aura of someone more mature, able to command the presence of those around him so easily, as if we were all merely the audience to his act. His jokes poured out of him effortlessly, his smile never leaving his face. I was transfixed.
As I sat at the table, timid, silent, we made eye-contact, and he smiled so wide that there were crinkles around his eyes and I would turn red in the cheeks. Soon he spoke to me. "I'm Jon," he said.
"Riley."
"Nice to meet you Riley." I could only nod in response. For the rest of the orientation he focused on me, making me smile, brushing our hands together, whispering jokes in my ear. I felt special, wanted. As we began to file out of the school, he leaned over to me. "What are you doing later?"
"Um," I stuttered, focusing on my phone "I have this concert later, so... It's at the high school."
His smile never left his face. "What time?"
"7:30," I replied.
"I'll be there."
He called me that night as I walked into the auditorium. I was wearing my best dress, my best makeup (which, admittedly, was only a dash of mascara and blush), tittering down the aisle and trying not to look awkward as I peered into the audience in an attempt to find his face among the crowd. Eventually I saw him, near the front, sitting far from my friends and smiling expectantly.
"You look great," he muttered as I took my seat and the lights dimmed.
"Thanks."
The curtains parted, the band began to play. It was Asian music, as full and animated as a soundtrack, and he whispered,
"It's like Spirited Away."
And I whispered,
"I love that movie."
He smiled and took my hand.
My friends smiled at me knowingly, so I avoided looking at them.
After the concert, we walked in the hallway, and he hugged me tightly. "We should movies together," he suggested. "Miyazaki. You should come over." I nodded.
A few days later and I was on his couch, his brother milling about the room. "Ralph," he said, his arm around my shoulders. "Could you get us a glass of water?"
"Sure," Ralph replied, shrugging. "I'll be right back."
Jon watched as Ralph started up the steps, his hand clenching the soft area by my neck. As soon as he was out of sight, he took my chin, turned my head to his, immediately attacking my mouth. My eyes hung half-open, I watched as his face contorted and shifted with every twist of his tongue.
There were footsteps. Ralph reemerged, two cups of water in hand.
"Thanks," Jon said, taking them. We sipped slowly, not looking at one another. Ralph smiled a little. "I'll be in my room."
We watched Howl's Moving Castle that night, me lying on his chest, his arms resting on my back. We kissed every few minutes, alerting each other of our happiness by thrumming our fingers, giggling, kissing cheeks.
I don't remember the movie.