"So Grant, have you ever kissed a boy before?" Their beady eyes seemed to stab me with their intensity. Nervously looking around me didn't make matters any better.
        They were all staring at me, like I were some freak of nature, and they were all analyzing my very existence.
       Licking my dry lips I gripped my bag, "Of course she did, she's beautiful." My cousin winked at me, covering up my lack of confessions, she lied. I've never kissed a boy, and no boy ever dared to kiss me.
             I suppose that is not entirely true, when I was twelve Stephan Beckmann, a tall scrawny football player. Said that I was beautiful, talked to me countlessly for a few days.
        And on my thirteenth birthday, he took me outside of my home, in my backyard specifically speaking, and dragged out the first few moments, of a first kiss.
         I can still remember the stupid kiss out of his obnoxiously plump lips, and uncomfortable squeeze of his tiny little eyes.
                   And when I followed along, he pushed back, and laughed. "If I kiss you, that would make me gay. You've got no tits, and your name is Grant. For all I know you've got a willy down there!" His glazing green eyes chuckled with his loud bantering laugh.
         Whilst I, held back my tears, by punching him, right in his 'willy'.
       Crying in pain our parents raced   outside, and when the Beckmann's found their son on the floor holding his penis, they allowed their mouths to descend to hell, appalled. "What did you do to our son you evil twit?"
       "I wouldn't kiss it mum, it has a dick! I'm no gay mum, I swear it!" Kicking him again, I managed to get him to squirm again.
     "I'm a girl you homophobic prick, I do not have a cock!" Lifting my dress, and grabbing myself for confirmation, I gyrated stupidly. Everyone, including my parents completely outraged by my actions.
      "You've got one, it's just small! "
     "That's it!" Dropping my dress instantly I pounced on him.
           Punching, and pulling, screaming, and biting. I kicked his ass. And he left my birthday party, with both of his eyes blackened and swollen, cuts, and bruises. And best of all, a bruised ego, just as he shattered mine.
        Eliza kept replaying the entire scene vividly for two months, and every time I see him working in that supermarket next to my house, he smiles widely. I suppose it's because now, I have tits, and my ass is rather large.
     "Well who? Tell us! Was he handsome like Mr. Edwards?"
      "We-,well,"
Before I could finish the bell rang for dismissal.
    Finally.
       Taking the opening for my departure, I grabbed my things and ran for my life.
      Attempting to slow down when our proximity began to close in, I failed. Skidding face first into him, he fell forward, and I on top.
   His snow blonde hair, falling out of the loose tie he had it in. I watched as it cascaded beautifully along his broad back.
      My stomach clenching in nervousness, my eyes grew wide, and my breath rigid.
       Dammit Grant, dammit!