by Kylie Key
"Thank you," I said. I could hear Mom and Dad talking now and I didn't fancy Mom interrogating Taylor. "I'll see you later." I reached for the door handle.
"I'll call you later," Taylor said.
I was about to say I had some homework and study to do but that would be inviting a longer conversation, so I nodded and stepped back inside, waving as I closed the door.
Mom and Dad were standing in the hallway, both with their arms folded, both with silly smiles on their faces.
For a moment we all stared at each other.
"What?" I shouted, throwing my hands in the air.
Mom spoke first. "I didn't meet him. Why did he leave so quickly?"
"Dad's so embarrassing," I said. "I feel like an idiot. Fancy having to ask permission for a date. I'll be the laughing stock of the school." I stormed off past them. "I am the laughing stock."
"He was fine with it," Dad said, "I liked him, he's a nice boy."
"And a ten thirty curfew?" I yelled. "We'll probably have to leave halfway through the movie."
"Ten thirty is reasonable for a week night," Mom said calmly. "Is he cute, baby?"
I rolled my eyes at her. "You'll probably give us carrot sticks to eat in the movie!"
Mom laughed and came to me. I let her hug me. "Your first date," she said, squeezing me tightly, "It's so exciting. Let's go check what movies are playng." She lead me into the living room, picking up her iPad.
"Make sure it's G rated, preferably Disney," Dad called, his laughter ringing out as he went through to the kitchen.
"He's so immature," I huffed, and Mom smiled knowingly as we sat down. "I didn't know Taylor was going to turn up. He asked me at school if I wanted to go out, but I said Dad won't let me date unless he gives permission and I thought that would scare him off..." I looked up at Mom. "Why does Dad have to be so old-fashioned?" I pleaded.
Though I knew the answer. Magdala, my older half-sister had been attacked in her junior year of high school. It was a horrific shadow which hung over us, still affecting us, and especially me now being that exact same age she'd been.
"You know you're his baby," she said, "his angel." Mom draped her arm around my shoulder. "He doesn't want you growing up too quickly."
I shook my head. "This time next year I'll be graduating and I'll be moving away." I could feel my voice about to crack. "He can't check out every boy I want to date."
"He might try. By Skype." Mom laughed at her own joke. Both regular comedians, my parents.
"I'll be going as far away as I possibly can," I threatened, "I'll take the scholarship which puts the most distance between us."
Mom smiled. She knew I was all talk and no action. My college dream hinged on a gymnastics scholarship. Already schools had shown an interest in me, tentative offers in place and in the upcoming competitive season my coaches and I would look at the best fit for me. I was never going to be Olympic material, but I still dreamed of competing at the highest level I could. And though I talked about moving away, I secretly hoped I'd be offered a place here in California.
Family was everything to me. That was one thing Mom and Dad drummed into me. Hardships and dramas could always be overcome by the love and loyalty of family. And although Dad's overprotectiveness was stifling and overbearing, I knew it was out of a wild and fierce love.
"Now, what are you going to wear?" Mom swiftly changed the subject back to the date. "A dress? Maybe that pretty blue floral one?"
I grimaced. That pretty blue floral reeked of sweet and sisterly. Didn't I want to be sexy and sophisticated for a date? "I'll see what Ainsley and Lucy say."
Ainsley was my best school friend, but Lucy was my best gymnastics friend. I liked that I had different cliques that I belonged to. As a student I liked to blend in, and I hovered around being slightly above average with my grades. But it was gymnastics where I shone, where I didn't mind standing out. There I had to survive on ability alone, there was no free ride because of who I was or where I lived. My own work ethic, dedication and competitive spirit had made me succeed. Lucy and I had participated since we were five years old, and although we competed fiercely against each other, we always supported each other. Lucy was lithe and petite, her body shape perfect for the sport, whereas I was a little too tall, a little too developed, but it made me work harder, and I thrived on that.
Ainsley suggested I wear my black lacy dress, Lucy thought I'd look cute in my little denim skirt and pink tank top. In the end I wore a pair of jeans and a purple t-shirt. As I sat on my bed, a fear I had never experienced coursed through my veins. Though I always took pride in my appearance, I worried that I would be sending Taylor the wrong signals. Did my hair look too sexy with its curls? Did I have on too much makeup? Was my perfume too much?
I didn't usually get nervous, after all I was used to competing in arenas in front of hundreds of spectators, but a night alone with Taylor, sitting next to him in the movie theater, eating food in front of him made me anxious.
I burst into Damon's room. He was sitting at his desk, strumming his guitar. He looked startled, quickly putting his guitar down.
"Damon, does this look all right?" I did a twirl, but he obviously didn't hear me.
He removed his headphones and said, "What?"
"Do I look okay?" I asked, my voice small and on the verge of tears.
"You look fine," he said.
"Really?"
He nodded, and went to cover his ears again.
"What if he tries to kiss me?" I said in a rush, and only then did I realize that that was what I was afraid of. "On the lips?"
Damon looked surprised, he gave a shrug. "Well, kiss him back. That's if you want to." He grabbed the headphones again.
"Do I have to?" I said, "Will he think I'm weird if I don't?"
Damon leaned back in his chair. "You're just going to the movies aren't you?" I nodded. "It's no big deal, Dom. It's just a date." He reached for his guitar. "And you look great." But his eyes were back on the screen and his headphones back on, and I reversed out of the room. It was all right for him to act so casual, Damon had been dating since freshman year, none of which had to be verified and approved by Dad.
I checked the time and went downstairs. Mom wasn't going to be home before I left so I waited in the living room where I'd be able to see Taylor's car arriving.
With such a busy school and sport life I'd never been overly concerned about dating. Dad had enforced a strict no-dating policy until I was seventeen, but it had never been an issue because I'd never been interested in anyone. I preferred to hang out with my friends in a group, and the few boys who had asked me out had always been majorly put off by my father's vetting process.
This is how texts usually went:
Boy: Hi Dominique, do you want to go out?
Me: You'll have to ask my Dad
Boy:
That's right — a deafening silence would ensue where I wondered if the boy must've dropped off the ends of the earth, was zapped up by aliens or his phone battery chose that precise moment to die.
Dad confirmed the curfew as ten thirty when Taylor showed up. He looked like he'd taken extra care in choosing his clothes, his shirt freshly pressed and his jeans tidier than the ones he usually wore at school. For a moment I wondered if I was underdressed. But I needn't be concerned because as soon as we got into the car he said, "You look great Dominique."
"Thank you," I said, clicking my seat belt, my phone securely in my grip. "You do too." I suddenly felt shy, not usually a problem for me, but talking to a boy, alone, knowing there were romantic intentions was different from chatting to boys in the classroom or hanging together at the mall.
Taylor asked me what I wanted to eat. My friends had versed me on what was acceptable and appropriate. Spaghetti, they said was too messy, as were ribs and tacos. Burgers could be awkward, salad could get stuck in your teeth, sushi could be smelly and definitely nothing with garlic or onions. A cheese pizza seemed the only option. I was also advised not to ea
t my usual portion size, to halve the amount I would normally have, so once we got to the movies I was starving. I gratefully grabbed a large handful of popcorn when Taylor offered but in doing so flicked kernels all over us. I declined anymore after that.
After the movie, as instructed by the girls, I used the restroom to touch up my lip gloss and suck a mint that I had brought in my pocket for precisely one reason: the kiss. I was told to be prepared. Taylor was a good kisser. Apparently. Nobody had any firsthand evidence but someone had heard from someone, who had heard from someone else, that he knew how to kiss.
This of course put all the pressure on me. I was a virgin kisser, of teenage boys at least. I'd had plenty of Mom and Dad kisses, Grandad kisses, sibling kisses and baby kisses but boys, no. When the girls wanted to give me lessons on kissing I'd scoffed. How hard could kissing be? You put your lips together, joined then with another pair of lips and that was a kiss. But no. There had to be the right amount of pressure, the right angle, the right breathing. I was made to practice on a balloon.
Back at Taylor's car, I noticed he was chewing gum. A mild panic came over me. It was a clear indicator that he was preparing himself for kissing too, according to Trieste's expertise. Trieste had years of dating experience, her longest relationship lasting a total of four months. We all trusted her higher knowledge. I pointed out to Taylor that it was already after ten and that my curfew was in less than thirty minutes. I joked that I didn't want to be grounded after my first date.
He agreed. "This is just the beginning for me and you Dominique," he said. "Logan's having a party in a few weeks time. On a Saturday. Do you think you could come?"
Ainsley and Trieste had been talking about this very party only yesterday, hoping beyond hope that we would all be invited. I tried to remain calm. "Logan Newman?" I asked nonchalantly.
"Yeah. Can you get time off from your job?"
"I could ask," I said, fighting to contain my excitement. I could hardly wait to tell Ainsley the news. She'd be thrilled for me.
"Well, make sure you do," Taylor said.
"I will." My job was as a cashier at the Italian restaurant that Paola, Cassian’s wife managed. It wasn't usually an issue to take time off. I'd done it before when I'd competed in gymnastics meets out of town.
Taylor's hand was suddenly on my shoulder, my face turned towards him.
"Dominique," he said, and without warning his lips were on mine, pressing quite firmly and harder than I'd been expecting. His lips parted and I could detect his mintiness, and I was stupidly wondering if he still had the gum in his mouth or if he'd swallowed it, or whether I might suck it into my mouth. I had a vision of me choking on it and for that reason tried to keep my teeth together. This was all happening faster than I'd been anticipating. At best, I'd dreamed about a goodnight kiss at my front door.
Taylor let out a throaty groan, leaning further into me. My hands floundered in mid air, and Taylor took hold of my right one and placed it on his back. I moved it up and down as he was doing to me.
"Dominiiiiiique," Taylor breathed into my mouth. It felt like everything was happening too quickly. Slow, gentle, romantic were the words Ainsley had used to describe a first kiss, her experience amounting to a short romance with one of Damon's friends. This, however, felt fast and furious.
"Mmm Dominique," Taylor moaned, as he momentarily released and took a gulp of air. I took the opportunity to shift my position, my shoulders feeling incredibly taut and tense.
"Do you think we should get going? I don't want to be late," I said. I reached for the seat belt.
Taylor sighed. "We were just getting started."
"It's already ten fifteen." I held my phone up for him to see. "And with traffic."
Taylor grinned. "We can carry on at your house. Technically, if we're parked outside that counts as beating the curfew, doesn't it?"
I shrugged. I had no idea. I could imagine Mom and Dad peeping through the living room curtains. I flashed him a smile. Suddenly all I wanted was to be was at home, tucked up in bed. Dating seemed to be nothing but one big stress and instead of being wonderful and awesome, kissing was scary and nerve-racking.
I was relieved to see the front of the house lit up like a Christmas tree. It meant that Mom and Dad were indeed waiting up for me. It was probably wishful thinking but I was convinced there were shadows lurking by the windows. I unbuckled my seat belt quickly.
"Thanks for a great night," I said, my hand on the door ready for a fast getaway. But Taylor moved swiftly and was at my door as I emerged. He put his arm around me, walking me up the driveway. Now I started to feel nervous, now I had time to think about the next kiss.
"Looks like Mom and Dad are waiting up for me.” I giggled.
“I should get brownie points for being," Taylor checked his phone, "four minutes early."
"Thanks for a great night," I said, aware I was repeating myself, aware I was just reciting a phrase. I wasn't even sure it had been a great night.
"We'll do it again," Taylor said, "and don't forget to check about the party."
“Yes, I will," I said and then, as if using sleight of hand he'd encircled his arms around my waist, pulled me in and I found myself gazing up into his dark eyes, his outline illuminated by the front porch light. I wanted to take a moment to admire his triumphant grin and cute freckles, but his lips descended on mine and everything was once again manic and frantic, as if he needed to make full use of those four remaining minutes.
I steadied myself against him, awkwardly holding around his neck but I couldn't help wishing it would hurry up and end. At this stage I would have welcomed my parents interrupting. If this was how kissing was I was either hopeless at it or the only person in the world who didn't like it. I definitely needed to buy another packet of balloons.
To my relief Taylor pulled back, letting out a heavy sigh. I touched at my mouth, making sure my face was intact.
"Wow, Dominique," he said.
"Wow," I said back.
"I'll see you tomorrow." He gave a click of his tongue and a jaunty swish of his hair.
"Probably," I said. He was cute, that was unmistakable but my pounding heart wasn't because the boy of my dreams was about to leave me, it was because I couldn't wait to see him go.
Mom and Dad tried to act casual as I poked my head in the living room. They were sprawled out on the couch, Mom nestled in front of Dad. My parents were openly affectionate with each other, often kissed, but now I wondered why? What was the appeal of sharing someone else's saliva and breath?
"How did it go baby?" Mom asked, sitting herself up.
"Yeah, good," I said.
"You had a good time?"
"Yeah." I was hardly going to admit I was a failure at dating. That I'd come home starving, couldn't remember anything about the movie, and hated kissing. "Yeah it was good."
"Did he ask you out again?" Mom's question was asked with as much importance as Did you get an A for that assignment?
"Yeah, to a party at Logan Newman's. In two weeks time."
"That's fantastic, baby," Mom said, as if that was the pinnacle of dating: being asked on a second date. I told them I needed to talk to Ainsley and hurriedly kissed them both goodnight, pursing my lips and barely touching their cheeks in case they could detect Taylor Jensen all over my face.
I stopped by the kitchen and grabbed myself a bunch of grapes before running upstairs to wash my face. Ainsley called just as I was about to call her. She wanted every detail, every minute detail. Not satisfied with He held my hand and kissed me twice she needed to know where we were and how long each kiss was. Usually Ainsley and I told each other everything, but I instinctively knew from her over-enthusiasm that I couldn't tell her the truth. I couldn't tell her that I didn't enjoy the date and that Taylor Jensen's kisses were disgusting. Taylor Jensen had a reputation; I didn't. I had no credibility to start dissing his kissing skills, and how did I know that it wasn't me? Maybe I was a freak and a lousy kisser.
I didn't
have to actively avoid Taylor during school because our paths didn't usually cross. Still, the next day I went to extremes to make sure I didn't see him. I drove to school fifteen minutes earlier, I packed my own lunch, I made an excuse that I had to go to the library. Ainsley thought I was nuts. When Taylor texted me to meet at lunch I didn't reply till the next class started, saying I'd missed his text. When he texted me to meet after school I said I had to get to gymnastics and wouldn't have time.
It didn't deter him; he was already leaning against my car with Logan Newman and Garrett Tosti as Ainsley, Ella, Trieste and I approached.
"Hey Dominiiiiique," he drawled, and in front of everyone swept me into a hug and kissed me right then and there. With sniggers audible there was nothing I could do but go along with it, but I ensured my mouth stayed tightly closed. Thankfully Taylor kept it brief but I felt flushed as he let me go, seeing a bunch of faces gawking at us.
"Looking gorgeous as usual," Taylor said, his arm reaching around and pulling me close. He planted a kiss on the top of my head. That I liked. I leaned on his shoulder peering up at his face, his grin wide, his eyes mischievous. For a moment I wondered if I'd been too harsh on him, maybe my own naivety and inexperience had clouded my judgment. Seriously, Taylor Jensen was a catch, so cute, so deliciously cute.
Banter went on between the others and I tried to join in, but Taylor's hand moved, resting on my lower back. It was distracting and made the butterflies in my tummy stir. Logan was talking about his party and Ainsley and Trieste were trying to curb their enthusiasm but I could see the excitement on their faces; getting an invite was a major coup. Logan Newman was one of those guys who had everything going for him, his parents were rich, he was good looking, smart, played water polo and swam for the school.
"I better get a move on," I said loudly, pulling away and making a show of looking at my phone. "I need to get to training."
"I'm gonna make you choose Dominique, me or gymnastics,” Taylor said. I assumed it was a joke and unlocked my door.
