It wasn't like it is in the movies. He didn't slam my body against the crumpling brick wall .Our heart beats didn't fall into common cadence with one another and the pattering of the rain against something metal somewhere. He didn't push his body sensually against mine in the heat of passion so that I could smell the way his entrancing combination of sweat and cologne mingled with the sweet smell of spring rain as it emanated from his bare and glistening chest. He hands didn't wildly explored the regions of my body concealed by my black halter top and miniskirt. I didn't gaze into his eyes. He didn't gaze into mine.

Time didn't lose all meaning as I slipped into the two burgundy pools burning with desire. Desire for me.

I didn't feel his hot and minty breath against my cheeks as our lips separated but stay in close proximity as though one might need the other at a moment's notice. I didn't learn every thought, word, emotion, feeling he meant to convey to me. He didn't immediately understand all the love, lust, everything he had, did, would mean to me. I didn't make him fall for me the way I had fallen for him. It didn't happen.

It happened, but nothing like it could have. Like it should have.

It was March. It was sophomore year. It was after school in the deserted quad. It was my move. It was stupid.

We were both covered in a disgusting mixture of sweat and the red dust that hovers above of the track when you're behind everyone else. He had just said something stupid and we were both laughing. I just leaned in and pressed my lips against his. It was awkward and wrong and beautiful.

It wasn't like it is in the movies, but it was a Hollywood beginning.