A World Un-Ruined

Part Eight

       We learned a lot about each other in those days, as the relationship began to grow roots. Understanding Dusty and his troubles was kind of like finally understanding the complex algebra equations that teachers used to write on the board in the beginning of the class. He was intimidating and seemed daunting, but when you listened to him, he became clear.

Our first kiss was at Mel and Andy's New Year's Eve party. It was a spur of the moment thing, but we had both been yearning for a reason to do it since the fourth date at least.

"Five!"

I giggled at a drunken Mel grabbing at Andy's arm to keep her balance. I could tell that I wasn't sober, but I wasn't stumble drunk yet.

"Four!"

A few of our friends scuttered around trying to find a pair of lips to start the new year with. Most of them had a significant other. The ones that were single usually made a pact with one another after having one or two of Mel's special New Year fruit cocktail.

"Three!"

A calloused palm took ahold of my wrist and pulled me backward onto the stiff loveseat that was against the wall opposite of the door in Mel and Andy's apartment. Her mom had given it to her from their basement. I think it'd actually been sat on a total of five times.

"Two!"

He wasn't drunk either, not really. Judging by his shoulders actually being somewhat relaxed, he had a Coors in him. His shoulders never knew what real relaxation felt like. Something was always on his mind that caused tension or stress. That was one of the more important things I'd learned about him

"One!"

His brown eyes held a genuine interest in me that was still new to me. I was still getting used to understanding that he liked me. He wanted to talk to me. He wanted to be looking at me. And it occurred to me a second later that he wanted to kiss me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders while I scooted in closer, and as the New Year arrived, we leaned in.

       After twenty-one years of existence, I could finally say I'd had my first kiss. It was exactly as I'd imagined it would be, a noisy background muffled for just a moment between the two of us. The built-up longing that each of us had, released while sitting side by side on that floral loveseat among drunken shouts of "Happy New Year!" It wasn't movie-like, as my sixteen-year old self had believed it would be, but it was real. His lips were there, moving insync with my own. That realness was all that my twenty-one-year old self needed out of it. His lips were chapped and they kind of tasted like the beer that I'd predicted he had had. Mine were slightly sticky with lip gloss and I remember hoping he didn't mind my breath smelling like the weird casserole that our friend, Becca, had brought over. How was I supposed to know if it felt like fireworks were going off and a Huey Lewis song was playing? I was busy holding on to what the moment actually felt like as it was happening. In the moment, I knew I would much rather remember the taste of Coors on his lips and the uncomfortable position on the loveseat rather than try and make up fake sparks and a cheesy soundtrack in my head years later. 

       Dusty and I grew even closer after that night. Our new year started out by learning how to lean on one another as opposed to simply dealing with things ourselves. He didn't go without a roof over his head another night after that. If he wasn't at the Carter's house then he was on my couch. While I helped to cure his homelessness, he helped to cure my friendlessness and general lack of social interaction. I met his group of friends. They were a rowdy bunch, but they were fun and a close family. I connected with them fairly quickly, which is odd as an introvert who had always struggled with genuinely connecting with friends of friends. Normally, when any of my friends tried to introduce me to any of their separate friend groups, it would always go the same. Either I wouldn't like their vibe or they wouldn't like mine and we would only hang out once to satisfy the mutual friend. Dusty's group, however, was a big mix of misfits who didn't really have a particular vibe. They took me in and made me feel like part of their crowd on day one. It was incredibly comforting to me because I had begun to believe that I was the problem when friendships didn't work out.