I need to write more, here’s a story about the time I first held hands with a boy.

In eighth grade, I felt more bold than ever. I was still scared of the world and the people around me but no longer afraid to express myself. Colorful eye shadows, thick black eyeliner, fake eyelashes, Hello Kitty pendants the size of my palm, Bring Me the Horizon. I was a self declared scene queen and I wanted you as my scene king. I only knew you because you were in my algebra class and I let you copy off me. You talked too much but I liked your taste in music and the way you drew random doodles. I honestly didn’t think you were that cute. You had doe eyes, small nose, no lips, buck teeth that have a slight gap right down the middle, a hundred pounds soaking wet, curly hair that you straighten and covered with a cameo bandana but your skin was soft and you knew how to make me laugh. That day was a rare occurrence, I was walking home from school, so were you and it happened to be the same direction. I was nervous and I remember just sweating profusely in my new Drop Dead sweater but you held my hand the whole way, a whole thirty minutes. You dropped me in front of my house and gave me a hug that I never would forget. It was a sensual long embrace. You got really close to my face and I thought you were going to kiss me, you didn’t. You just smiled and said you would see me later. I felt like I could die a happy woman. It’s a memory I played in back in my head that summer. It was the first time I ever held another boy’s hand other than the minuscule activities in elementary school. But everyone knew you liked Lauren, everyone except me. I guess another one bites the dust

Author: hmalcorn

Hannah Marie. 25. Southern California.

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