I stood in front of him, the boy who was supposed to be the man of my dreams. I had been waiting for this instant to come for years. For years I had dreams about the way that this would feel. How my first kiss with the man of my dreams would feel. It would be amazing, it would take my breath away, it would feel like it was too short, but last forever. The kiss would make my foot pop up and make me hold him tight. It would not feel awkward at all. There wouldn’t be an uncomfortable silence afterward. It would be the perfect moment.
It was a beautiful day in April, it was the right temperature, and the skies had big white clouds in them. I met the boy in the park at noon, just as we had planned. He had been sitting there waiting for me. Everything was going perfectly.
This boy would be the perfect boy. He was the right height, roughly six foot. He had green eyes that looked like the fresh cut grass you would see at the beginning of summer. His lips were light pink and not too thick, behind those lips he had perfect white teeth. He was smiling, his perfect smile; the smile that had always given me the butterflies, even when we were in kindergarten. He had gorgeous shaggy brown hair that went just below his eyebrows. He was the man of my dreams. I knew that this boy was the right one.
Now, you are probably wondering where I got the idea that there is only one boy that is completely right for me, and how I think that I will know I found him from one kiss. All the chaos started when my grandmother told me about how she met my grandfather. They met in a book store; Kendra was trying to get a book off of a shelf that was just out of her reach. She struggled and jumped to try to grab it, but couldn’t reach. A man who was about 6’2 came over to assist her. When he handed Kendra the book, their eyes met. Then they leaned into a kiss. Love at first sight, or well kiss.
After that they were inseparable. They did everything together, and with each day that passed, their love grew stronger. They ended up getting married, having a ceremony in a small church, in our small town in Alabama. They bought a nice small house, and started a family. They were happily married until they both passed away.
I gently rested my hand on his shoulder and leaned up on my toes until my lips reached his. When they connected I paused and stayed next to him for a while, trying to make the most of the moment. After a few moments, I slowly backed away.
I titled this post "Taking Chances" because the narrator in this story is taking a chance. She decided to test a theory she had, even though it could potentially cost her one of the people she cares for most.