My first kiss was on a Wednesday in a third-period math class.

I like him.
                 But the situation was complicated.

He had told me weeks ago he was going to kiss me.

When I asked him why he said:

"Because my words can no longer describe what I feel anymore."

But for weeks I had avoided it, pushed it off, too scared.

But one night I finally decided I was going to let him, to kiss him.

Our lips barely touched but it was my first

I spent the rest of the class trying and failing to focus on my work.
He couldn’t focus either.

Instead, he spent the class teasing me.
His goal was to make my face as red as possible, he succeeded.

I thought about it for the rest of the day.

We kissed again the next day after lunch.
That Saturday we spent the afternoon stealing kisses when we were hidden.