It was a chilly, summer night- or was it warm and I was just nervously cold? The time stood at around 10 pm. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was him. “Okay on my way,” I squealed; I couldn't help it. I hadn't seen him in what felt like centuries, even though I texted him every day. I waited, sat down, got up, paced around, repeat. Then a bulky, black car rolled into the parking lot where I had been pacing for five minutes. It was him.
Yes, he was three years older than me, 18 to my measly 15.. But we didn't care. He loved me, and I sure loved him. His gorgeous green eyes made me feel so comfortable. His beautifully Greek and tanned skin glowing, jet black hair shining. The chiseled features on his face gave him that extra boost of maturity. His perfect, white teeth that rarely showed themselves but, when they did, in turn made me smile. He got out of his husky Jeep and embraced me for such a long time that I felt as if I were melting into him. My delicate hands gliding over the muscles in his toned back. An very familiar and almost expected feeling, considering I had done the same exact thing in a recent dream of mine. He had a scent that I still, to this day, can’t shake. He never did tell me which cologne he used. He claims it’s a “secret”.
We were leaning against his car, just like in the movies, when he whispered, “Kiss?” And how could I have refused? I proceeded to nod “yes” and simultaneously closed my eyes and leaned in, just like I’d seen in countless TV shows. His soft lips gently touched mine. I could feel his pucker turn into a smile, and of course I beamed back with excitement. I tucked my head in the crevice of his neck and breathed in, letting the smell of him invade my senses. It was a picture-perfect moment and, even though we’re not together anymore, I’m glad I shared it with him.