The No Kiss List

One

One

My first kiss sucked.

I could still vividly remember being the center of attention during lunchtime with the group of "popular" girls all smiling and giggling as I awkwardly stand next to one of the cutest boys in our middle school. And if I recall back to that moment long enough, I could still faintly feel that burning blush on my face.  It felt like the sole reason I was in that scenario was so that there would be some buzz going around school, Maya Hathaway kissed one of the cutest boys in school right next to the basketball courts. I was a monkey told to dance for entertainment.

And I sure was a damn good monkey.

I gave in to the eighth graders' peer pressure, frozen with nerves as my middle school boyfriend starts to lean in for a wet one. I already knew I wasn't his first because everyone around school never failed to tell me how good of a kisser he was rumored to be. I, on the other hand, never had my first kiss or an actual boyfriend, so that moment was going to be one always to remember. Mostly because of the moment I flinched back. I didn't even mean to suddenly move my head back just milliseconds before his lips touched mine. It was almost like an untimely reflex fueled by the enormous amount of nerves.

I still feel the gut feeling of embarrassment as those watching all start to laugh. Middle schoolers are terrifying, but what's even scarier is being a middle schooler being laughed at by other middle schoolers.  It was at that moment I gave a fight or flight response that to this day, I still cannot piece together the thought process that led to me grabbing him by the cheeks to save what little dignity that I could have had. And I gave him the sloppiest inexpert kiss you'd ever see.

The buzz did end up going around school after that kiss. But a week later, my boyfriend had the gall to spread the word that Maya Hathaway is the school's worst kisser. He had broken up with me that week, and the image of me being a horrible kisser stuck, and nobody wanted to be with me the rest of middle school, including the first half of my freshman year.

But there are worst things in life.

School just happens to be one minor factor in everything we fear of stress over.

And when you've spent a little over 11 years in school, you're pretty much over it at a certain point. So tired, I can't even manage to get out of bed in the morning.

"Wake up." I was awake. I've been awake for the past ten minutes, hearing my sister's music playing across the hall. Meanwhile, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling pondering whether or not I should fake having period cramps. But the moment she barged into my room, I knew there was no time left to plot my little white lie.

"Get out." I croak, speaking my first words of the day. I could feel the sudden weight thrown on my bed. "Sydney, please." I whined.

Sydney. She was my five foot seven Vietnamese best friend who I had met in second grade and sealed the deal in fifth. I would go down the long list of how extraordinary her personality is, but to sum it all up, shes the equivalent of a four-year-old on a sugar high. Which makes our long friendship make sense since I do happen to be the equivalent of a 70-year-old man with arthritis, we balance out the scales.

"We're gonna be late." Her hand came down with full force smacking my keister, which had me sitting up at ninety degrees within seconds.

"Sydney!" She ignores my glare making her way out most likely to eat breakfast from my kitchen. Seven years of good friendship, and you have the freedom to raid each other's fridges at any given time.

And while speaking of time.

Ten minutes, that's all I need.

Because in ten minutes, I could tie my hair up in a ponytail or a bun if I wanted to. In ten minutes, I could pull together a basic outfit made out of a simple pair of jeans and whatever newest shirt I've liked to wear over and over. And then there's makeup if you say you don't think of it as a necessity you are a liar. And the whole morning routine could be that simple.