I worked the class period after lunch. By the end of that first week, I’d covertly inspected the family photos in her office while making copies or clearing her fax machine of junk faxes, so when Colin stopped by, I recognized him immediately. A senior and on the swim team, he was tal and slim, but muscular. His dark hair was cut very short, making his hazel, almond-shaped eyes even more striking in his olive-toned face. He walked and swam with equal grace, and possessed a confidence I craved and admired.
“Wel , hel o,” he said, his brows raised slightly, his gaze warm and focused. “You’re new.”
I frowned slightly, confused. It was only the first week of school, so anyone in my position would technical y be new.
“I haven’t seen you around at school before, so you’re either a new transfer… or a freshman. Or, in upperclass-speak, fresh meat.” He smiled, his teeth perfect and white, smal dimples denting adorably at the sides of his mouth. I felt my face heat. I had no idea how to respond, and though I knew I should be offended, I wasn’t.
“Colin,” his mother said, coming in with a stack of folders and a bag from Wendy’s, the aroma of French fries fil ing the office. “You’l need to pick up those goggles yourself. I couldn’t make it by today. I had to stop by the orthodontist to get Tara’s new retainer.” Tara was Colin’s seventh grade sister.
“Didn’t you just get her a new retainer?”
She smirked. “Yes. That one lasted a month before she
‘misplaced’ it.” She walked into her office to prepare for the afternoon’s onslaught of distressed teenagers and/or their parents, her voice trailing off. “If only they put little strings on those things like they have for bifocals and children’s mittens…”
He laughed, and I tingled, head to toe. I’d never felt so attracted to a boy before. As he turned back to me, I turned away to switch on the oscil ating fan behind my desk.
“So, fresh meat, what’s your name?”
My face warmed again. “Dori.”
“I’l be seeing you, then, Dori.” He quirked an eyebrow and was out the door.
I watched him in the hal ways between classes—senior and junior girls constantly orbiting him like planets caught in his gravitational pul , freshman and sophomore girls sighing as he walked by, other guys high-fiving him or throwing out plans for the weekend as they passed. He was extroverted, popular. I was al but invisible.
Whenever he noticed me, he’d smile broadly. “Hey, fresh meat,” he’d say, anyone within earshot tittering. I was embarrassed and thril ed. Once or twice a week, he’d show up in the counseling office to talk to his mother, but he always stayed after, leaning a hip on my desk and talking to me in teasing tones.
One day, he walked in carrying a dark pink rose. Dr.
Dyer was in a staff meeting, and I was alone. “Hey, Dori.” His eyes roamed over me. “You look hot today.” I stared at the desk, never sure how serious his compliments were. He smiled, moved closer, held the rose to my ear. “Yep, I was right. The exact same shade.”
He squatted down next to my chair, which he’d never done. “I have something to ask you.” Viewing him from this new perspective, I stared at his long, dark eyelashes and his ful lips. He drew the rose down the side of my face, the petals soft against my cheek, and I felt a stirring to my core.
“Do you have a date for homecoming?”
I shook my head slowly, disbelieving. It made no sense for someone as popular as Colin to notice me, let alone ask me out.
“Would you like to go with me?” His gaze locked on mine as he slowly dragged the rose across my lips, the fragrance of it sweet and overpowering. I nodded, and he smiled. He pul ed his phone from his pocket, pushed a few buttons, handed it to me. “Put your number in. I’l cal you tonight and we’l talk logistics.” As I tapped my number, he glanced towards the door and back to me. “Can I have a kiss, to seal the deal?”
I nodded again, and then his lips were on mine, briefly.
He took his phone, laid the rose on my desk, and walked into the hal , whistling. I’d been asked to homecoming, had accepted the invitation, and his kiss, never speaking a word.
That was my first kiss with Colin. My first kiss with anyone.
Four months later, it was Valentine’s Day. His parents had driven to San Francisco for an extended romantic weekend, and his little sister was staying overnight at a friend’s house. He took me to dinner, and then we rented a movie. We had the house to ourselves. As we made out on the sofa, he whispered that he loved me. When he took my hand and pul ed me to his room and into his bed, I fol owed.
We snuck home to his empty house during lunch breaks and got a hotel room on my fifteenth birthday, where we made love in the shower, on the worn loveseat, and on the floor, laughing at the rug burns we sustained on our knees and backsides from the coarse carpet. I woke up in his arms, hoping Mom hadn’t cal ed the friend with whom I was supposedly spending the night, but certain I’d not trade that waking moment for anything, no matter the consequences.
When spring break came around and he took off for San Diego with friends, I didn’t protest; I wasn’t one of those clingy girlfriends. When he came back home Sunday night
—his eighteenth birthday—and didn’t cal or return my texts, I was concerned. When he didn’t show at lunch or stop by the office on Monday, I didn’t understand. Not until I saw him in the hal way just before last period, his arm slung around the waist of a senior girl. Not until his eyes passed over and then returned to me.