A prompt from my creative writing class. And it all went downhill from there.

Any first kiss stories you want to share? Drop me a review. I'd love to hear them.


These are the moments I want to remember.

All the silly, awkward perfect, wonderful ones. There are so many of them in my life, all pushing and pulling for space at the front of my mind. But every girl has one particular memory that flows through the tides of good and bad. A face, a name, time, and place that we will never forget until the end of time. It's something we look back on with either a disgusted grimace or a happy sigh. Something that will forever hold significance in our brief lives. We will always remember our first kiss.

Mine was stolen, an accident.

The dance was dark and crowded with scantily clad girls and muscular guys all vying for each others fleeting attention. I looked down at my own outfit consisting of jeans and batman t-shirt, wondering if he would be happy that I dressed so conservatively. Some of the girls were wearing nothing but spandex and cut up white shirts that didn't cover much more than their neon spandex sports bras.

I waited just inside the glass doors for my date, an attractive junior I'd met through his younger sister. I gazed out at the road, wondering which car would be his and what would he look like? When a black car pulled up and the back door opened, he stepped out. Finally making the short walk up the paved path and into the building. My heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour by the time he reached me. We met with down-turned eyes, a loose hug, and, "Hey."

After the hug we didn't really touch for an hour or so, not even when a muscle in my knee decided to spasm and strain, leaving me nearly lame the rest of the week (much less the night). But we still spent the evening dancing, or in reality, bobbing up and down to the music like most high school students do. The only difference between us and the rest of the crowd was the fact that we were face-to-face with at least a foot of empty space between us.

The room we were in was dimly illuminated by several black-lights set up on stands in seemingly random places around the room. The cords leading to these lights were haphazardly taped to the carpet. Aside from the lights were several hundred students dancing as a unit on the floor close to the speakers, with stragglers a little ways away from the mob, and kids who were there just to be someplace were sitting in chairs watching. The writhing crowd was difficult to get through, but we pushed, prodded, and 'excuse us'-ed through them all in order to stand by the open door and cool off in the April breeze.

Our conversation was yelled over the pulsing music. Eventually we gave up trying to talk. He looked so happy as he laughed, throwing his hair around to the beat; in a burst of confidence I reached for his hands. All the adrenaline was gone, leaving me and my emotions to fight for ourselves. I was beyond thrilled when he took my hands in his and looked at me with an expression that read, "What have you been waiting for?" He began flailing our joined arms in mimicry of a partner dance. Suffice to say we hit several nearby teens and received many strange looks as we laughed uncontrollably.

We stayed like that for a while, laughing and flailing and hugging every time one of us made a particularly hilarious mistake. His laugh rang out over the music, louder than the speakers. Maybe it was just me, or did the whole world seem to mute when he laughed, leaving it the only sound in my ears? Did everything else blur behind him when he smiled at me that way? That smile would be the death of me. The way his beautiful green-brown eyes crinkled up in the corners and his nose flared a little. Is this what love feels like? I wondered. The feeling I get when he smiles like that?

I had to do something. Anything to show him how I felt right then. So I stood on tiptoe as much as an injured knee would let me and leaned forward. Only his nose. I only wanted to kiss his nose. But he must have seen me coming and I never did reach my destination because his lips were suddenly touching mine. It shocked me and I froze, a girl of stone in his embrace. It was open-mouthed (on his part) and awkward and amazing. It was my very first kiss, and he had stolen it.

The boy who was too shy to talk to me at school, who could barely make eye contact with me, who had asked me to this dance via email had stolen my first kiss.

He looked down at our joined hands and smiled again, this one much softer and maybe a little bit scared. "So I guess..."

"Yeah."