Sophomore year. 2009. We didn't have any classes together but we began dating in spring. Do I remember the exact date? No. But I know we were dating by April. My mom was having her kitchen remodeled so after school I would walk all the way to my grandma's house, like 3 blocks from the school. Stephen walked that same direction after school; he lived like an extra two or three blocks north of my grandma's house. We walked, talked, probably held hands all the way up to 14th street. He wanted to be a gentleman and walk me to my grandma's house, but I felt bad making him go out of his way for me. So, our first kiss happened right there, on the corner of San Antonio Avenue and 14th Street. He hugged me and I buried my face in his chest. That was my first kiss ever. This would be a moment I would remember forever. As I pulled away, I blushed as I looked at his shirt. You could see the outline of my face on his shirt, thanks to all the make up I wore. Eyeshadow, eyeliner, foundation...all creating a very obvious mark on his chest. I apologized and he smiled, telling me I had nothing to worry about. We parted ways.
Years later, we would talk about this moment. This was definitely not his first kiss, just his first kiss with me. He told me someone did see his shirt and asked about it. I don't recall what was said, but I know he told me he didn't mind the make up. That it was a reminder that he finally had me.
We broke up before the summer.
YOU ARE READING
The Story of Us
Non-FictionBasically a biography, the story of how Stephen and I met and fell apart.
