"You should go over there," Madeline shouts over the blare of the party music, whose bass was generously increased by Jeremy the Stoner. She nods to the guy standing in the corner who is eyeing me as if I'm his prey.

With one hand in his brown leather jacket pocket, the slender fingers of his other hand rest by his side, giving him a relaxed countenance. His eye contact is piercing, as if a demand rather than a suggestion. Tendrils of hickory fall over parts of his face -- his rugged look. He smirks at me, like this is some sort of game I don't know the rules to, and that's just how he likes it.

I look down at my shirt to make sure there's nothing on it that he's interested in. That's the only thing that would make sense as a reason for which he's sizing me up like this. I'm not a very intriguing person. I look like a twelve year-old with my polo shirts, and I've never been someone that people lust over. My cheeks rouge. I take a nervous sip of the soda that Madeline made me put in a red solo cup so that I could fit in with my peers.

I pivot to Madeline, panicked. "No way. I'm only here because you wanted me to make a few high school memories so I wouldn't have a mental breakdown at the age of eighty. I'm not here to make mistakes with guys I don't know and don't want to know."

Saturday nights are for more studying (even now, two weeks before school starts). That's just how it goes in the Amari household. My permanent record is so clean that my mother would have a stroke if someone left a stray pencil mark on it by accident. I stay within my comfort zone, as it is, well, comfortable. Who enjoys getting in trouble? People who end up dead by age twenty. I am not one of those people.

"How are you going to complain that you get no action when you're here deflecting attention now?" Madeline crosses her arms.

I scuff my shoe on the ground.

"That's what I thought." Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows suddenly spring up, and I follow her gaze to the approaching stranger.

He gives me a quick up and down as he nears me, as if he wasn't just doing that, and, like it's second nature to him, captures my lips with his own.

It's not like I'm a very sentimental person, but I expected my first real kiss to be with someone I at least knew the name of. I don't think that's too much to ask. And yet, I'm not even concerned. This boy has a way of captivating people. My own original thoughts disappear and make way for describing how he feels so close to me. He appears to be a very skilled kisser, as he can somehow make up for my lack of experience with his rhythm, and quite a rhythm it is.

Passion is the key of this duet. The slow ocean waves of his tempo do not connote tenderness. They conduct electricity. His breath is warm, but his hands, one of which rests on my own, are chilled. My partner retracts after a few seconds that might as well have been a lifetime, his teeth gripping my lower lip briefly. Long lashes unfold until his eyes behold the surprise in my own. His gaze is no longer daunting, rather personal, and I feel an odd sort of connection to him. As he draws away, so does the cup from my grasp, and it is then that I realize this was all a ploy to steal my beverage.

"Holy shit, dude!" Madeline exclaims.

Eyes wide, I admit, "I definitely didn't study for this."

~~~~~

A/N: bitch i'm sh00ke

uhhhh hi i'm Dakota if you don't already know and this is gonna b a lit ass fuckin story so let's go

by posting this chapter i'm basically committing to the story so let's hope this works out for me

~Dakota