Elevator: That First Fateful and Hateful Kiss

“I’m out,” I declared, climbing out of the hot tub. Dylan followed. Walking across the tile, I decided to make the move.
“What do you want for Christmas?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you that. I don’t know,” he replied, his voice smiling. Cara, Mia, and Kevin caught up then. We walked down the stairs, talking about something I don’t remember. Cara gave me a look that could only mean “Kiss him.”
“Cara!” I exclaimed.
“What? You should totally kiss him,” she said. I rolled my eyes but Kev and Mia were quick to agree. Cara and Mia backed away, retreating into the locker room. Kevin stayed, teasing us. Dylan shoved him into the locker room but he peaked through the slightly open door. Dylan slammed it.
“So, a kiss,” he said turning to me.
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted for Christmas,” I answered.
“Me too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. So…”
“Change fast,” I told him and hugged him. I did NOT want to kiss him in swimsuits. I wouldn’t admit it but his flab grossed me out. I mean come on. You swim really hard for like three years and yet you still are overweight? Someone needs to quit playing video games. It reminded me of the time in the hot tub when he asked me what I did in my spare time and I answered, “I read. I write. I listen to music. I don’t know. Do homework. Play my cello.”
“You play cello in your spare time?” asked an incredulous Ian, “My mom has to force me.”
“You need a life,” Dylan told me.
To get the attention off me, I asked Dylan, “What do you do in your spare time?”
“I play video games. I play...” he went off on different games. On and on. “So yeah,” he finished.
“Someone really needs a life,” was my reply to that.
I opened the locker room door and there was Mia and Cara, huddled by the door. “What happened,” they questioned.
“We’re changing fast,” I said, pushing past them.
“I wanna see it. When he kisses you.” Cara said. She was expecting a little peck or a slow, sweet kiss, a hug and a good- bye. So was I. ten minutes later I was lingering by the open locker room door. Waiting. He came out. He gestured to go behind the wall, to the elevator. Okay, I thought, he wants to kiss me in an elevator. No big deal. He’s just gonna kiss me as we ride up. He opened the door and stood aside as I went in first. I went against the far wall. He came in and turned, pushing the ‘close door’ button. The doors closed. He came over to me. I put my arms kind of up on his shoulders. On the straps of his backpack. He leaned down and our cheeks pressed together for a split second. Our heads turned and he was kissing me. And then? And then he stuck his tongue in my mouth. I pressed my lips together tighter than they already were, but somehow, it got it there again. I pulled away, “No.” he didn’t say anything, just went back to kissing me. Decent at first but then, his slimy tongue snaked its way back between my lips. I pulled away again. “No,” I said. He stood up, silent, looking at me.
“Closed lips then?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I nodded a lot more calmly than I felt. I said like ‘yeah, duh,’ but it probably sounded different to him. He came back and pressed his closed lips against mine. My sense of time for that was distorted. I don’t know exactly how long it was but it was not long enough until he tried to French me again. Like in the movies when they open their mouths really wide (both people except in this case, it was only him) and like eat each other with their tongues in each other’s mouths. He tried that. I pulled away, biting my lips closed. This was majorly grossing me out. He came back again and pushed his tongue really hard against my lips, trying to break through. My lips were so tight I could barely feel them. He finally gave up. I just opened my eyes and waited for it to end. Suddenly, the elevator jerked and began to ascend. He pulled away and stayed away. My face was all wet, so I wiped it with the back of my hand. I didn’t really care if he saw. I was disappointed. Kissing was warm, mushy, wet, and no firework feeling. I wanted to slap him and walk away but I couldn’t. I was feeling mad, but nice (I wasn’t feeling nice, like happy, but like being nice. It was stupid). The door opened and Cyndi, my friend-ish person Maddie’s (she is a really fast swimmer who is on the senior team, where the really super fast kids work out for two or two and a half hours and sometimes swim in the morning, and she isn’t the nicest person but she can be okay sometimes) mom. If you couldn’t tell by the description of her first daughter (she has three) she is conventional and she pushes her kids. It’s really bad when I run into her when I’m skipping swim team. I turned to make an ‘omigod what if she had caught us’ expression at Dylan but he wasn’t looking me. I walked him out to his bike, where I thought he might kiss me good night. Nope. I just hugged him, turned, and walked across the freezing, salt sprinkled side walk. The salt dug into my bare feet and the cool air felt good after being so close to another being of almost 100 degrees. I had my PE shorts on and a tank top, I think, but I don’t even remember the cold. I mean it was December and all but still. I signed in, and went back down to the locker room where Cara and Mia were finishing changing. “What happened?” they asked as I sat on the bench.
“He kissed me,” I said simply.
“He did?”
“Yeah in the elevator. He took me in there, pushed the close doors button and came over and kissed me. But then he stuck in tongue in my mouth.” Their disgusted shock clinched it for me. I was officially grossed out. I had my first kiss. What a dud! I remembered the following weeks where I found out about my friend Nicol and Dylan and Ian’s friend Ariel (pronounced Ahh-rhee-ull not like the Disney princess) and the elevator. I still shivered in disgust at the thought of that Monday night. EWWWW. That was pretty much the end of that relationship. He did ask me to the movies (he wouldn’t tell me what the movie, Juno, was about because he wanted it to be a surprise) after Christmas but I declined very subtlely. Then I broke up with him like three weeks after the elevator. End of story. Bye-bye first boyfriend.