A week ago today I got to kiss Spencer. She didn’t pull away, no one was there to interrupt us and she kissed me back.

We spent hours on my bed, just kissing, like teenagers are supposed to.

My hands, and hers, stayed in the safety zones. Face, neck and back. No skin contact.

Just take it slow, that was how I was playing it.

Did I know what I was doing?

Not a clue.

Playing it slow wasn’t the way it had worked for me in the past.

But I think I can manage it. I’ve managed to take it slow so far, and it paid off. I was on my bed, legs entwined, lips clashing, tongues fighting for dominance, hearts racing, breathing heavily, sighing gently in the moment.

And as ‘moments’ go, this was by far the best ‘moment’ imaginable.

For the week after that ‘moment’, we tried to act normally, but normal evaded us.

Each morning I would drive to her house, and compose myself before she got in the car. I would stare at the road straight ahead of me, knowing that if I caught a glimpse of her running down the driveway towards me I would loose my composure and melt into a steaming puddle of lust filled nectar right there on the driving seat. My palms were sweating as my hands gripped the steering wheel and my knuckles turned from their normal tanned colour to a ghostly white.

The first morning after the ‘moment’ Spencer sat in my car slowly, placing her bag at her feet and sitting up rigidly staring ahead just the same as I was. It was silent for what felt like an eternity, but in reality it was probably only seconds.

‘Hey.’ Spencer spoke quietly, shyly.

I couldn’t reply. I didn’t trust the words to come out properly formed from my mouth. I nodded, slid my hand to the ignition and the car rumbled into action, and before I knew what had happened Spencer had leapt across the gap between our seats and kissed my cheek. Just quickly, but that kissed calmed me. My nerves were born out of a fear of Spencer regretting what had happened, and that quick kiss on the cheek reassured me, and she knew it did.

The next morning, she kissed me just as she had done the previous day, but afterwards I turned towards her, looking into her eyes, and she smiled at me. That smile soothed every fear I had, about Spencer, about myself, about the world.

The third morning, she leant over slowly and gently turned my face towards her before kissing me on the lips.

The fourth, there was no need to turn my face, I was there ready to meet her in the middle.

These moments in the car were special. These moments alone were normally silent but they were comfortable. At school I was conscious of how I looked at her, how close I stood, how I smiled at her, what I said, and it was killing me having to be conscious of all of this when all I wanted to do was drag her into a vacant classroom and just stare at her, touch her, anywhere, everywhere.

Six days of the kissing in the car and holding back all day at school routine has affected me no end. I ran 2 red lights, answered only two out of 50 questions on the math paper, and I’ve given up with the sarcastic retorts to Madison. Spencer was consuming my mind, I’m not complaining, worse things could be on my mind.

It was lunch and Spencer was sitting next to be on the bench, watching a group of guys bragging loudly about a party the night before. 

‘You wanna come over to mine tonight and order in a pizza and get a movie or something?’ I’ve spent a week constructing that sentence, and I speak so fast I’m surprised she can decipher the words.

‘Yea.’ Spencer said smiling. She laughed and nudged me ‘Are you ok?’

‘Oh yea, I’m fine.” I responded not looking at her.

I tried to hold it all together, be in charge, be her rock like I normally was, but a single glance from her brought my cool façade crumbling to the ground. But I kinda like it.