The First of Us | Teen Ink

The First of Us

October 14, 2013
By Danielle Parafian BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
Danielle Parafian BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The first time we hung out
It happened, age fourteen,
Freezing cold, teeth chattering, my fingers were numb.
September. First game of the year

Set to go, jocks shouting,
Cheerleaders chanting the cheer, in the bitter cold night.
My short brunette friend and I walked in side by side,
We skipped down the steps, disappearing behind the bleachers.
The icy cold wind blew my long brown hair back,
I shivered a bit, but kept walking through the mighty brisk wind.
He noticed us and gave a big, warm
Smile and extended his arms out
I let myself collapse into them and take his warmth. I was shivering,
My teeth non stop chattering, my hands were shaking.
Behind the bleachers I stood hand in hand with him, crowd roaring,
Jocks in rage, cheerleaders
Cheering for our team. I was too
Young to care about football, or
So I said, I really didn’t care then.
The brisk icy air blew again, this time I
Was engulfed by muscular arms and his oversized football hoodie
Around me. It had only been three short weeks
With the kid, but it was about time.
I found myself standing in a small circle
With people all around us, watching me
As if I was the new exotic creature in the zoo.
I looked at him as if he were another one of those creatures in the exhibit with me.
He was no taller than I was.
He looked at me with his sparkling baby blue eyes, as he pointed to his rosy cheek.
The cold air blew once again, blowing his hair
Over his sparkling baby blue eyes. I brushed it back
And held his face in my shaking hands, admiring every inch. The moment so
Right, so perfect, yet so nerve wrecking. I
Leaned in, pecked his cheek like a bird searching for worms in the freshly
Rained on soil, pulled back and
Turned to him He turned to me at the same time, it was a full lip lock.
Three long weeks of waiting and it couldn’t be more perfect.
The difference in temperature from his warm lips to my icy lips was like
Mixing fire with ice, it almost stung. I was
Shaking, yet his warmth had been shared in between the both of us.
He pulled me in and held me. I felt so at home, so safe, so
Sound. Like a cub to its mother sitting in the cave,
Warm, safe, and loved.



Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.