Beginnings... 

July 29, 2004

Loon Call Island, Lake Rosseau, Muskoka

"Show me, Elle. If you're so sure of yourself, show me, then."

Smiling at the hint of exasperation in his voice, likely because I've only been half paying attention. But honestly, it's much more interesting to think about the feel of his chest under my head. I've been nodding, offering non-committal sounds of interest for the past ten minutes as I fantasize about... possibilities.

Now, caught red-handed, I blush and turn my attention back to the sky.

The evening breeze tickles my skin as I lay on my back, staring up at the stars. My eyes search for the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, counting the stars between them, finding my way to the North Star. I could show you pretty much any constellation in the northern sky.

I could show you all the constellations you'd ever want to see from my boathouse roof; each one etched into my memory because he's the one who showed them to me.

Pointing to each of the ones he asked me to find, I wait for his response. Goosebumps blossom over my skin when his warm hand closes over my wrist. He guides my arm gently, showing me another constellation.

"See there? The long tail of stars between the Dippers? It curves all the way down towards Cepheus, then back up, like a lasso. That's Draco."

"You've already taught me that one. Don't you remember?" See? I have been paying attention.

His laugh surprises me. It's a sound I so rarely hear, and my heart soars. "I was just checking to see if you've been paying attention at all."

I smile, wondering if he knows the true direction of my thoughts. I cherish these quiet moments with him, where it's just the two of us. The peace that settles over him when no one else is watching. This edgy, restless, wild boy is so different when he's with me, and I wish more people could see him the way I do.

It's getting harder to find these moments with him, though, our friends constantly surrounding us. We've hidden this side of our slowly shifting relationship from the world this summer.

I turn my head, resting my cheek on his shoulder to peek up into his face. His eyes are partially closed, hooded, but he has a sweet, soft smile on his face as he watches me.

He is so beautiful. I know he'd hate to be called that, but there's simply no other word.

His dark brown hair waves carelessly across his forehead. His eyes are a deep caramel brown, like the bourbon that sits on my dad's bar. His cheekbones are high, his jawline sharp and strong. He has a sweet freckle directly above and to the right of his top lip. I often find myself wanting to trace my finger over it, or kiss it, but I haven't dared try either of those things. His smile is just a little crooked, tilting more to one side than the other. It's almost like he hasn't quite managed a full smile in a long time, and the muscles are rusty.

He smiles more readily with me, and when I get him laughing, he relaxes, a dimple flashing to the left of his mouth in those rare moments. His laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world. His smile is made all the more striking by his straight white teeth and full lips. Lips that are currently only inches away from my face.

I smile up at him before glancing away, shyly. I've been dying for him to kiss me with those beautiful lips for weeks.

I've never been kissed before. Fifteen years old, well as of midnight tonight anyway, and my first kiss still eludes me. I dream about it all the time. I dream it will be him. I need it to be. I might just explode in the waiting for it, the wanting of it.

But here I am, under the stars with a boy I like, a sixteen-year-old boy. I'm giddy with the thought that I might be able to tell my best girl friend Vi that I'd had a real kiss this summer, with a boy a year and a half older than me.

Not just any boy, this boy. My boy. I've known Greyson as long as I can remember. There are pictures of me being placed in his arms, as a little bundle swaddled in pink when he was just eighteen months old or so.

Through our shared childhoods, he held my hand when I was frightened, took me on my first camping trip, picked me up when I fell, hugged me when I cried, laughed with me until happy tears rolled down my face. He's never treated anyone else the way he treats me. Greyson doesn't exactly tolerate real physical intimacy.

He's seen what I consider to be the full spectrum of my emotions, which are many, changing as quickly as the weather.

But the one emotion that's remained ever present is my love for him.

I'm just not exactly sure where that love stems from, friendship or romance, but I'm dying to find out. I have other male friends, and I certainly don't feel this same longing or excitement for them, so I think perhaps it's romance, tangled with friendship.

When his shoulder shifts under my head, I sit up a little, letting him get into a more comfortable position before laying my head back down to his chest. I guess he's as comfortable as you can be on a flat, hard boathouse roof, even though we're using the thick, soft, nautical striped cushions from the lounge chairs.

Tonight, the sky is clear, and the moon is slim. The waves gently crash against the rocky shore, and I can hear the crickets singing. I can also hear the soft, steady thump of Greyson's heart beneath my ear. These are the sounds of peace.

Greyson shifts again, pulling me just a little closer, so I decide to be brave, it's now or never. I roll over to face him, resting my upper body sideways across his, pillowing my chin on my hands atop his chest.

He raises an eyebrow, smiling that crooked grin of his that makes me melt. I think my IQ just dropped fifty points. What was I going to do again? Oh, yes. Right.

"Greyson...?" I whisper. Nerves dance through me, making me shiver slightly.

"Elle...?" he whispers back, teasing. His arms are behind his head, acting as a pillow, and he leans up slightly to look at me, his lean, athletic body flexing underneath mine.

"You know it's my birthday tomorrow," I start, biting my bottom lip as I try to decide how I want the conversation to continue.

He smiles, one of his rare, beautiful, full smiles. "That's the funny thing about birthdays. They happen the same day each year," he teases me, reaching up and tugging my hair gently. I love it when he plays with my hair, and to my absolute delight, it's something he's been doing a lot of recently. He'll reach out to play with the ends of my hair when he's teasing me, even sometimes in quieter moments, or to pull my hair playfully when he thinks I'm annoying. I keep my chin level on his chest, not quite able to meet his eyes.

I work up all of my courage. "Well I'd like to ask you for something this year, not a gift," I add quickly, in case he misunderstands my request.

Greyson slides his hands into my hair, tugging gently to tip my head back so that instead of staring at his chin while I speak, I'm looking directly into his eyes. The angle is a little awkward, but I let him hold my head there, keeping my eyes on his. "What would you like to ask me for?" His whisper makes me shiver.

I take the plunge. Clearing my throat, so I don't sound as nervous as I feel, I begin, "I've been waiting all summer for you to kiss me on a night like this, under the stars. Every time you come over, I'm just, well, waiting. So, what do you think, will you do it already?"

Greyson stares at me for a moment before smiling and laughing. I experience a brief flash of panic that he thinks I'm joking, or maybe doesn't want to.

"Elle," he groans, "sometimes you just kill me." He smiles, though, so I know he's teasing. "Why do you want me to kiss you?"

I'm surprised by his question. "Well, I've never been kissed," I say shyly. I pause for a moment, wondering if this will satisfy him. When he remains silent, I guess that means it doesn't. I try to shift my eyes away, but he tightens his grip, holding me still. "I'd like you to be the one to kiss me first. I trust you, and I know you'll show me how, without making fun of me."

I look nervously back into his eyes, biting my lip. He smiles down at me. "Yes, Elle. I'll show you. And no, I won't make fun of you. On one condition."

I smile at him, intrigued. "What's that?" I would do anything this boy asked of me; such is my trust in him.

He leans up a little further towards me. "Take a moonlit swim with me, under the stars I've taught you about all summer," he whispers close to my ear. He stands, pulling me up with him, and my head just reaches the middle of his chest. 

He reaches behind his head, pulls his t-shirt off, and strips down to his snug boxer briefs. I can never get enough of looking at him. This year, he's filled in a little. His body is still lean, but interesting muscles are developing across his abdomen, shoulders, arms, and back. His hips are a narrow, carved vee disappearing into his shorts. Snug shorts that ride low on those beautifully sculpted hips.

His chest also sports a very appealing sprinkling of body hair this summer. I often wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers over the fine, light sprinkle of hair on his chest, the darker trail from his belly button that disappears, well, down below his shorts. I blush at my thoughts.

He walks to the edge of the boathouse roof, beckoning me to him. It's a twelve-foot drop into the dark water. It's deep and safe. Excitement and anticipation flood my system, making it hard to think.

I smile a little nervously at him and pull my t-shirt up over my head. "Do you think it'll be cold?" I ask this absently, not expecting an answer but wishing I could test the water first.

I'm thankful for the barely there sliver of a moon tonight, and the darkness. Otherwise, I'd probably be too shy. I unbutton the snug denim cutoff shorts I've been wearing all summer long and slide them down over my hips, kicking them aside to the pile with my t-shirt and phone. I've also filled in a little, pleased when I see his eyes widen as he gets a look at me. I'm happy I thought to wear a matching panty set today, and the pale blue cotton cheeky briefs and bralette are close enough to a bikini to cover my nerves but show off my new, well, assets modestly.

I follow Greyson to the edge and smile at him. He reaches for me, eyes intense, but I spin away from him, twirling, laughing, before dropping into a sharp, straight dive.

As I break through the dark, glassy surface smoothly, my body slices through the cool water. A quick shiver ripples through me, chills or anticipation, I can't be sure. I curve my back, momentum steering me towards the surface. I hear Greyson's splash, feel the water droplets rain down on me, around me, and a moment later, I feel his hand grip my ankle, pulling me back towards him.

We break through the surface of the water together, one of his long arms wrapped around me. He's treading water for both of us, keeping me afloat, one arm swaying back and forth in the water, the other holding me to him, his legs working, churning smoothly. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I dip my head back into the water to slick my hair back.

I feel him watching me as I float in the water, braced against him, his big hand spanning my back, keeping me afloat. I open my eyes, bringing myself back up from the water with his help. His eyes lock on mine as he guides us back towards the shelter of the dock.

My heart thumps, straining against my ribs in excitement, in apprehension, when his left arm reaches up above our heads to grip the wooden boards, steadying us. He slows the treading movement of his long legs.

His right arm shifts, hand reaching up so he can smooth it over my slick hair, down my back, and across to my hip, which makes me jump a bit, but he only smiles. My arms, twined around his neck, are the only things holding me close to him.

The slow, gentle, stroking of his warm hand continues, soothing me, exciting me as it slides down my hip to my thigh. He tugs my leg, guiding me to wrap them around his waist so he can hold us steady. The small waves rock us gently.

His hand continues to stroke a path up and down the side of my body. His lazy movements start at my knee before gliding across my hip, ribs, and resting on the back of my shoulder. He continues to caress me, following the same path. My nerves build as I wait for whatever comes next.

My pulse is jumping so hard I'm sure it might pop out of my skin. The feeling of his hands on me electrifies my skin like it's burning, sizzling, despite the cool water surrounding me. His calloused palms contrast against my soft skin. Heat radiates off of Greyson's body too, warming me. The contrast between warm and cold causes goosebumps to bloom along my exposed skin above the water.

"Have you enjoyed learning about the stars this summer, Elle?" Greyson asks me, whispering close to my ear.

I nod, unable to speak. I'd probably enjoy learning about dirt from this man, I think to myself. A nervous, likely hysterical laugh threatens to bubble free, but I manage to calm myself, staying silent, breathing slowly. Four beats in, three out.

The tip of his straight nose brushes my cheek, and I jump again, but he only continues to stroke it up and down my cheek slowly, nudging closer to trace his nose along the shell of my ear. His lips hover just a whisper away from my skin. I shiver.

"What else should I teach you this summer, Elle?" He asks softly. I shiver, and the sound of his low voice rumbling against my ear.

I smile. "I already told you, I want you to teach me how to kiss someone," I say softly, bravely.

"Just someone, Elle? Anyone will do?" He teases.

"You. I want you to kiss me, Greyson."

He stills for a moment then strokes his free hand down my hair once more, this time it stops on my cheek, sliding back into my hair to cup the side of my face.

His nose brushes mine, and I feel his breath on my lips. The faint smells of spearmint and something spicier flood my senses.

He hovers there for a moment before touching his mouth to mine. His soft, warm lips glide gently over mine, a soft, simple brushing, nothing more—the cold water droplets warm on both our lips under his touch.

My skin hums with electricity, where he touches me, and I shiver from the thrill of it.

The index finger of his right hand softly traces the shell of my ear, tucking my hair behind it, and the sensations are exciting to me. Unfamiliar, but exciting.

His lips brush mine again, more pressure this time. As I watch him from beneath my eyelashes, he molds his lips to mine more firmly. Those beautiful lips begin to caress mine, encouraging me to follow his lead.

It's a strange feeling, lovely, but strange. I tighten my grip on his shoulders, his neck, wondering what I'm supposed to be doing with my hands. Nervously, I slide them up through his wet hair, tugging gently, thinking to myself that if his hand feels this good in my hair, on my skin, then perhaps it will be the same for him.

His soft, low groan confirms my hypothesis, and I smile against his lips. "I think I'm ready for the next part of the lesson," I whisper. I've seen how they kiss in the movies, so I know there has to be a next part. Nerves make me shiver in his arms as I wait for what comes next.

His tongue skims lightly over my bottom lip, and I gasp, jolting back slightly. My head knocks against the wood of the dock, startling me. Greyson smiles against my lips, chuckling softly, "Relax, Elle. I've got you."

My mind races a little as all these new sensations flood my system. Relax? I can barely breathe in his arms. How on earth am I supposed to relax?

He slides his hand further into my hair, curling his fingers around the back of my head, holding me firmly in place. It's then I notice his hand shaking too, just a little. Perhaps he's not as calm as I'd thought. Whether it's true or not, it reassures me, helps me find my balance.

His tongue slides across my lip again, but this time I can't jump back in surprise. He continues the gentle exploration, sliding his tongue between my parted lips to brush against mine.

After a moment of awkwardness, where I'm not sure what to do, I settle into the rhythm he sets, a little unsure of myself. I try to follow his lead and push my insecurity away. It's intoxicating.

Dizziness washes over me like a tidal wave. Excitement, nerves, love, happiness and something else I can't name crash through my system, fighting for supremacy. The taste of spearmint toothpaste and his Carmex lip balm mix with the strawberry gloss I'm wearing, and all I want is more.

He pulls back, staring into my eyes. The deep flush on his cheeks, his glazed eyes, the slight tremble of his hands, tell me he's not as in control as he appears. His hand clenches erratically in my hair, almost like he's debating whether he should let go or keep holding on. I never want him to let go.

His breath catches as he watches me, his eyes flick between my eyes and my lips, another subtle sign of his uncertainty or nerves. All I know is I don't want him to stop. Not now, maybe never.

I'm breathing heavily, looking back into his eyes, trying to appear confident. He doesn't seem inclined to move, his hot dark gaze fixed on me.

This time, I make the first move, leaning towards him once more. With only the slightest hesitation, I place light, quick kisses in a path from the freckle above his lip to his cheekbone, I feel his body tense as I kiss my way across his cheek, his jaw. "I think I like this business of kissing," I whisper in his ear, once I reach it.

My voice seems to snap him out of the trance he seemed to be in because the tone of his next kiss is so different from our previous kisses.

Using the hand gripping my hair, Greyson twists my head to the side and places hot, open-mouthed kisses just below my ear and down the column of my neck, back up my throat until his nose brushes mine and his hand pulls me closer. He changes the angle of his mouth on mine. This kiss is deep, controlling, and my head spins.

He reaches his free hand up to the dock so that both hands grip the wood above our heads. The force of his kiss pushes the back of my head against the wood. I'm clinging to his body, desperate to stay connected as heat spreads through me until I think I might explode.

When Greyson suddenly pulls back, I feel empty, cold. He's shaking. I'm shaking. His hand slides back down to my face from his grip on the dock, unsteady. "Elle..." he breathes, kissing my temple, my cheek, my lips, before resting his forehead against mine, his chest rising and falling heavily.

I am drunk on his kisses, not that I know what being drunk feels like, but I imagine it to be a similar feeling. I breathe deeply, using the fresh air to clear my head before wrapping around him and burying my face in his neck, letting the familiar scent of forest, lake, and spice, and his warmth, soothe me.

I can't help but sigh dreamily over what has most certainly been the most perfect first kiss in the history of the universe.

- - -

The biggest THANK YOU goes out to @sarahsarasita for being the first Wattpad community member to work through my writing, offering the best advice and reminders on punctuation and run-on sentences. Her snappy reminders will stick with me as I continue editing and writing! Thanks, Sarah!

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xoxo Toria