And now, here’s Kara ☺
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Five months after my best friend moved out of state, and a few weeks before my fourteenth birthday, I kissed her boyfriend.
They were broken up, obviously, because long-distance relationships in eighth grade are like creatures out of a Harry Potter novel: They don’t exist. But in my head, he was still her boyfriend. Even though we’d all stopped hearing from her months ago. Even though she swore through an AOL Instant Message (remember those?) that it was okay for us to go out with each other.
He was a nice boy, and shy. The type that would tell your friends he liked you and hope for the best. He couldn't admit to liking me for some reason (which many years and therapy sessions later, I attribute to the fact that I expressed my insecurity by being intimidating and mean to boys). So he made my friends guess.
Them: “What color hair does she have?”
Him: “Brown.”
Them: “On a scale of 1-10, how pretty is she?”
Him: “7.”
(Gee, thanks.)
After weeks of making circles around each other, he asked me out via AOL Instant Message. It was early March, which made hanging out alone together difficult. In eighth grade, “dating” consisted of your parents dropping you off in the village to hang out with “friends.” On a Saturday morning, we met at the playground. And we realized it was really, really freaking cold.
He had on the heavy yellow sweatshirt he wore all winter. We laid down on the slide, and I put my hands in his pockets to warm up. We had the playground to ourselves. (It was 30 degrees, so it was a lot less romantic than it sounds.) After laying there not saying anything for a while, his lips found mine. I didn’t realize it until many years and crappy kisses later, but my first kiss was perfect.
For weeks afterward, I wondered if he was thinking of her the whole time. So naturally, I dumped him for my ex-boyfriend. I wasn’t very smart about the whole thing, and it kind of got worse. In fact, the next four boys I kissed weren’t my boyfriends at all. (Luckily, they weren’t anyone else’s boyfriends.)
Ten years later, I’ve found my prince: If there’s any universe in which a guy who makes up songs about his own flatulence can rightfully be called a prince. But I don’t regret all the frogs in between. I never asked the boy in the yellow sweatshirt if I was his first kiss too, but I like to think I am.
KARA TAYLOR is the author of PREP SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL, WICKED LITTLE SECRETS and the upcoming DEADLY LITTLE SINS (St. Martin’s Press). She also writes for television. She’s represented by Suzie Townsend of New Leaf Literary. She lives on Long Island with her prince and a cat named Felix.
The Giveaway!!
I'm giving away a copy of WICKED LITTLE SECRETS (Trust me, you want this book. You really, really do. I'm in the middle of devouring it right now.), and if that wasn't enough, Kara is throwing in a copy of PREP SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL, plus a signed bookplate and bookmark! (Note: giveaway ends April 11th at 11pm. Available to US entries only.)
