From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul on Love & Friendship

First Kiss

It’s a beautiful day, the summer before I start seventh grade. For Dee, it’s the summer before eighth grade.

I’m watching TV. Jenny Jones is on. The guests argue about their unfaithful husbands or wives, while their wives or husbands deny all of the accusations of infidelity. Suddenly, Dee plops down next to me on the couch, coming from the bathroom. She nuzzles very close to me and rests her head on my shoulder, complaining about how bony it is. I tell her to shut up. I feel very conscious of her head on my shoulder, and then I feel conscious of her staring at me. I look at her and smile.

“What’s up?” I ask, confused.

“Nothing,” she answers, shaking her head.

She nuzzles even closer to me, and I feel awkward. Her arm slides in between my arm and my body, and she clings to me. A billion thoughts race through my head and then all of a sudden . . . nothing. I feel her staring at me, the heat of her face close to mine. I look at her, and I see three eyes. She looks straight into my eyes, pinning me with her gaze, locking my eyes with hers.

“Don’t you wanna kiss me?” she asks sweetly.

My mouth drops open, and I quickly close it, realizing that it was not the right look to give. I start to sweat a little. What’s worse, I feel her arms snake around my neck. I glance down for a second, sensing an awkwardness, like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. I look up again into her big green eyes. Her confidence suddenly blows me away, and I am intimidated. Time ceases to pass in minutes or even seconds . . . but in milliseconds. Actually, the only time that exists is measured by the small movements that she makes.

A smile slowly forms on her lips.

I start to blush, feeling my blood rush into my cheeks, and I feel stupid, like I don’t know what I’m doing, which I don’t. And in that moment I curse her for making me feel stupid; she knows what she’s doing to me.

I have to do something. Her next move might be an embarrassing question, like, “Do you not know how to kiss or something?” or “Are you a prude?” or “What’s wrong with you, boy?” She’s too close to me. She’s moving too fast for me. She’s too close to my face! She’s too intimidating. She’s too . . . cute!

She stops smiling.

Oh no! What’s she thinking now? I’m so stupid! I should’ve done something! She thinks I’m a prude! I am! So what?!?!? So, I’m a prude. Give me a break! Give . . . me . . . a break!

She wets her lips.


Her face inches closer.

Oh, man. Only a breath away from my face now, I see her lips form a smile before she presses hers to mine.

Slow, soft and sweet. Only her arms around me keep me from flying.

After what seems like a few minutes, she stops kissing me and looks up. Her emerald eyes sparkle, and she smiles. She giggles and says that I’m cute. I stare at her. She nuzzles back against me and watches TV. I sit there, staring at her, dumbfounded . . . with a stupid smile pasted on my lips.


Ron Cheng

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