First Kiss

A first kiss is a very special thing. It should feel like nothing and everything that you’ve ever experienced before. It should be both the mind-blowing numbness of romance novels and the mundane turning of the earth. It should be sweet, simple, loving and exploratory. It should be a melding of lips, a touching of hearts, a slight pressing of bodies. It should be both a question—Do you think we might be more?—and an answer—I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you.—complete and separate at the same time. It should taste like heaven and burn like hell. It should spin you on your feet, but anchor you to the ground in the most solid of ways. It should be short and last forever. Slightly bitter in the losing of that piece of innocence, rich in the knowledge that you’ve experienced it and are one step closer to womanhood.

Laughs

It’s so easy for him to make me laugh. I can be talking about something really serious and he inserts a pun and I laugh. We can be bantering back and forth and I'm laughing nonstop. He’s told me numerous times that he likes hearing me laugh, so I laugh a lot, for him. I laugh when he gets that mischievous look in his eyes, I laugh when he laughs, I laugh when he smiles. I laugh when he’s just near me because that’s just the way we are, the way we feel each other’s presence. We laugh because it’s fun and light and amusing. We laugh because we can.