Once upon a time there was a Boy and a Girl. They were all of 16 and were madly in love. Well, the Boy was anyway. They had grown up next door to each other and he had always had a crush on her. Being a boy he did a lot of stupid things to let her know he liked her. He climbed to the top of the tree in his front yard and then, when he saw her come outside, pretended to be stuck and yelled for her to give him directions from the ground on how to get back down. He got into a fight with her that ended with her scratching a pound of flesh out of his already scrawny arms and him knocking her down and dragging her, by her long hair, across the floor. He went swimming with her in her pool and every time she swam by he tried to untie her bikini top. Somehow she misunderstood all of these clear and romantic expressions of love.
And then one day she moved away.
And the Boy was sad and lonely and had to become obsessed with someone else, which he did, until she too moved away.
In the Boy’s 11th grade year a miracle occurred. The Girl moved back. Not the second girl, the first girl: the Girl next door. And he saw that she was back and he said, “It is good.”
When the Girl and her parents first moved back the Boy and the Girl would hang out at her place after school. She didn’t live next door anymore but the Boy would walk her home from school to where she lived and they would talk and she had a lot to talk about. The Girl was from there but after being away for a few years of high school she discovered she’d become a stranger. He would listen to her stories about where she’d been living and the friends and boyfriend she’d left behind there. She could ask for anything and he would give it, ask him to do anything, and he would do it. For his part, the Boy who had been crazy about this Girl, discovered that all of his old feelings were still there and that as their new friendship grew those feelings only got stronger. He didn’t climb a tree or punch her arm this time. This time he just listened. She was a ‘new kid’ and so she found his worship irresistible.
The Boy had thought of 100 incredible, romantic and full-proof ways to tell her that he loved her and to find out how she felt. But one day, while they talked about her old friends and her old school, and what she was feeling about moving back to the little town she came from, before the talk turned to her old boyfriend the Boy found his lips pressed against her lips. And her lips pressed back. And soon tongues, hands, arms and legs got involved in the kiss. And the Boy thought to himself, “It is VERY good.”
Later he couldn’t remember exactly which move had finally worked or if he’d even made a move at all. Somewhere in the back of his brain he had the vague impression that it had been the Girl who made the move but he knew that just wasn’t possible. What he did know was that kissing her was about the best thing he’d ever done or ever felt and he wanted to do it as often as he possibly could.
From then on, when they got together at her place after school there was a lot of talking but there was an equal amount of kissing and they were falling madly in love. At least the Boy was. At least the Boy, who had never been in love before, was pretty sure this was love but he knew he was definitely falling.
One day the Boy invited some friends to come over to the Girl’s place. He wanted to include her in his circle of friends. He figured if he was crazy about her his friends would enjoy being around her as well.
Up ‘til then the Boy’s parents knew that he was being a friend to the Girl but being parents had no clue that he was in love and definitely had no idea the whole kissing thing was going on. Not that his parent’s were anti-kissing, the Boy had come to terms with the idea that his parents did kiss and had even had sex at least twice because the Boy also had a little brother, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be keen about him kissing and he would definitely be uncomfortable with them knowing he had discovered kissing “en francais” which he was pretty sure they knew nothing about.
So back at the Girl’s place all was well until talk turned to hickeys. Everyone there knew what a hickey was, everyone had even had one except the Boy. In a moment of ‘group mind’ the friends turned into a mob and decided the Boy should be brought up to speed by experience rather than explanation. The Boy’s best friend, Don, and another friend, Rob, tackled him to the carpet. Don held his arms down and Rob held his legs as he thrashed. The Girl was over him and suddenly on him like a vampire as he turned his head to one side and Don held it there. The Girl’s lips locked on the Boy’s neck and the he was pretty sure he was dying. There was nothing pleasurable about the experience in anyway, apart from the Girl smelling so good, she always smelled so good.
The Girl got up and everyone let go, laughing and smiling. The Boy ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. A huge, purple bruise grew on his neck just over his jugular vein. Huge. Massive. It looked like someone had taken the business end of a vacuum hose and stuck it on his neck for an hour. The Boy looked at the mirror for a long, long time and he thought, “I’m going to die of a massive blood clot that’s going to go straight to my brain and I’m going to stroke out right here.” And then when he realized the giant, silver dollar sized bruise wasn’t fading but getting darker he thought, “I don’t have to worry about a blood clot, my parents will kill me.” He walked back out to his friends, said good-bye and told them he was going home for dinner and probably would never see any of them again.
He wanted to kiss the Girl good-bye but struggled with the idea of kissing the lips that had just created this colossal hickey on his neck. This purple, harbinger of doom. But he got over it and they kissed. “Probably my last kiss…” he thought as he headed home to face his parents around the supper table.
End of part one.