sex, drugs, and Isaac Newton (newtmas)

chapter 9 - the mystery half-emo

Believe it or not, that wasn't my first kiss. My first kiss was when I was 14, to a girl I never knew the name of. She didn't let me learn her name, said it was more 'romantic' that way. She was the only girl I ever loved; and she completely messed up everything I knew about my sexuality - placing a big fat Q across my forehead.

I met her when I went to stay at my cousins house, it was his birthday, and everyone knew it; I mean, he practically invited everyone in his town (granted that wasn't that much) to the party.

so let me set the scene. I was in a room, with six or seven 15 year olds, eating a hodge podge of home-made dishes, listening to them talk about how 'totally wasted' they were going to get at the party later that day. the girl opposite me leaned across the table; her attire just screamed teen angst, confined within what would be acceptable for a 'sweet girl'. However, despite her mediocre grunge look going on, you could see a happy, excitable child in her smile - as if she was an angel, trapped inside a demon, trapped inside a bedraggled teenager.

she mouthed 'totally bluffing' at me, and rolled her eyes, and when all I did was stare back, she stood up abruptly, grabbed my sleeve, and led me out into the kitchen. All of the boys in the room looked at me with a stare that made me wonder whether this happened a lot.

I thought I was in trouble or something, since all she did was scowl at me. Then, suddenly, for a reason unknown, she exploded into tears of laughter. And as I stood there, looking at her, I felt that first twinge - you know, the one you don't yet understand; and now I know why. Instead of the disarray of silly emotions and hidden messages I was fed up with, she seemed happy. None of the awkward mix of loneliness, insecurity, and unexplainable, tearing, impatience and anger that came with teenagehood. God, I needed a break from teenagehood.

She kissed me later that night.

Overcome by the buzz of alcoholic beverages, listening to a few songs she was 'dying' to show me. They were the type of songs you could roll around in, with a beat that rocked your emotions and a tune that made your head swim - or maybe it was the cider, accompanied by words that could captivate a million teenage girls tears.

"This is a depressing song," I noted, "does this mean your a depressing person?"

"Nah," she got up and dragged me with her, shaking her head from side to side as the beat picked up. "I like the tune, to be honest the lyrics make me laugh. Just because I'm a happy person doesn't mean I have to subdue myself to pop."

I laughed, "you're a strange person." she stopped, and looked at me with a menacing stare. "Oh no I didn't mean it like that! I like strange people!"

Cheekily, she tipped her head, "how much do you like strange people?" She asked as she held the back of my neck.

"Well that dep-" and then shoved her face into mine. Not in a bad way. Like high fiving your face - that is - if your hand has lips, and pretty eyes.

And I remember being attracted to her. That wasn't supposed to happen, I was only ever attracted to boys, I wasn't even interested when my classmates passed around crude pictures of girls in year 9. But somehow, she was different.