Stephan and I had been flirting for a while, but I took it all as meaningless fun. I mean, everybody knows how asocial I am and I make it pretty obvious that I'm not looking for anything beyond friendship. Besides, I'm nine years older than him. That wouldn't be a big deal if I was fifty and he was forty-one... but he's in his early twenties. I'd feel like I was corrupting a kid. A cute kid, who I'd jestingly said naughty stuff to... but still, a kid.
One night, he asked me to meet up with him for dinner at this quiet little bar and grill about fifteen minutes from my house. I didn't think much of it. We were just two friends sharing a meal. I brushed my hair into a ponytail and went to the dresser. Just about everything I own is black. I grabbed a pair of black slacks and a T-shirt with "Mortal Kombat" written across the chest.
He looked really nice. "Wow. Looking good, Stephan! You got a hot date later tonight?"
Stephan seemed confused, glanced down at himself, then shook his head. "Everything else was in the laundry."
The place was a little crowded because it was dinner time, so I talked him into sitting at the counter. We ordered drinks and split an appetizer. He seemed a little grumpy, but things got better after I made some sort of lame joke. I don't really remember what I'd said.
Somewhere between encouraging him to get this cute girl's number and laughing at something one of our mutual friends had said earlier, I finally realized this was supposed to be a date. Oh, God.
In hindsight, it's painfully obvious, but it hadn't even occurred to me. I didn't date. I'd never gone on a date in my life- at least, not that I'd known about. Who knows? Maybe I've gone on some and been totally oblivious about it. I was mortified, but I was also tipsy. So, I addressed it.
"Stephan."
"Yea."
"This was... uh, was this... you know. Was this supposed to be a date?" I didn't know if it was the alcohol or my embarrassment that made me stumble over my words. Probably both.
He shrugged slightly, glanced at me, and said, "... no. Yea. I don't know, maybe." His voice was a little quiet. Hurt. Damn.
"I'm sorry." I hoped I sounded sincere. "I didn't know. It didn't even cross my mind until just now."
"It's okay." His voice still sounded hurt. I felt awful! So, I did what seemed like the right thing to do. I kissed him. Hey, I was drinking. Common sense had left hours before. He was still talking, trying to come up with something to say to mask his hurt feelings, and I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. The kiss was intended to be soft and friendly. Then, he put his hand against my face and kissed me back. That's when my limbs turned to jelly.
It was like his lips were magic. They moved against my mouth and the kiss was far more intoxicating than my drink had been. It took me a minute to come to my senses. We were in a public place, with families and stuff. I pulled back and stared at him a moment before whispering, "Wow."
He looked a little sheepish. Clearing his throat, he glanced around nervously. He plucked something up in his hand and held it to me. "If you wanted the last chicken wing that bad, you could have just said so."
The awkward moments were really over then. We got dinner and ate it, our conversation going over all sorts of things. I kept catching myself staring at his lips and wondering if I'd seem easy if I kissed him again.
For the most part, he didn't notice. The two or three times that he did, he kind of laughed shyly and talked as if he hadn't noticed. By the end of the evening, I was beginning to feel like some kind of perv. Stephan and I left when we finished dinner, but it was like neither of us wanted the night to end. So we ended up driving to a twenty-four hour Walmart, where we could park our cars without worrying about getting towed. Then, we took a walk around the parking lot of the strip mall and chatted.
I don't really remember how or when it happened, but we were holding hands by the time we found ourselves back at our cars. We leaned against the side of my car, still finding excuses to talk. He finally got up and stepped around to face me. "About before, I mean, did you... Would it be okay if I kissed you?"
Would it be okay? My gosh. My heart was pounding in my throat. If he wasn't taller than me, I would have responded by just kissing him. Instead, I nodded dumbly.
"Yea?" he asked, putting a hand lightly on either of my hips. I stepped away from the car, getting a little closer.
Placing my hands on his chest, I nodded and whispered, "Yea."
He leaned in. I met him halfway, and this time when we kissed, I knew it wasn't the alcohol. There was just something about him. His kiss made me feel weak all over. It made me want to rip his clothes off. I slid my hands up his chest and put them around the back of his neck. I felt his hands slide up my back.
We were both breathing faster when we pulled away. I immediately felt a little guilty, for the same reasons I hadn't taken the flirting seriously before. What could possibly come of this? I had to say something and stop this before it turned into something a lot more serious. "Stephan..."
"No." he said it softly but firmly.
"No?" I asked, almost amused. "You don't even know what I was going to say."
"Yea, I do... and I don't want you to tell me all of the reasons this wouldn't work," he said. "Don't you think I've thought about all of this before?"
I wanted to frown, but was feeling weirdly content. My perfectly well thought out arguments faded from thought and I just sighed. "I don't know, Stephan. This all seems... wrong, somehow."
He gripped my arms firmly but gently, leaning in to kiss me again. I had this distant thought that I should probably tell him to stop, but I really didn't want to. It seemed like the more he touched me, the harder it was to think clearly. Physically, I really wanted more contact, but in my head, I knew it was all wrong. I couldn't really remember why anymore. I guessed I must have had more alcohol than I'd thought. My thoughts were completely fuzzy. As his face moved in, I turned my head. Me, a victim of my hormones? I think not.
