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How we began


We were like two virgin teenagers about to kiss for the first time. However, we were neither virgins nor adolescents, even though it was indeed our first date. My tanned thighs were burning from the heat emerging from the white concrete bench where we were sitting. My denim short was begging for his touch. I had to wipe the tiny sweat drops over my upper lip discretely and careful so I wouldn’t mess up my shiny pink gloss. He had a bottle of water in hand that he’d drink constantly.


“My mouth is dry, you intimidate me.”


“I’m flattered but it’s freaking hot,” I made an effort to swallow the ‘fucking’ at the tip of my tongue, I was trying my best to behave as a lady like who never swears. Fuck, I must really like this guy, I realized.


I was too shy and embarrassed to look at his face, but his blue eyes were probably squinting because of the hard 3pm sun. He has sensitive pupils. His skin is so pale that his crew-cut blonde hair seems ginger. Right by the river, the gentle summer breeze carried with it the weight of 90% January humidity, transforming my meticulously brunette ironed hair into a voluminous mane, defiant and wild. Great, I’m a lion.


Sitting 15 centimeters away from each other, my right hand and his left hand were timidly searching for each other. A perfect distance for lust and anticipation. One tall green bush at each side of the bench covered us, hid us from the civilization around, the towers, the restaurants, the fancy stores, the wealthy residents. We picked that spot on-purpose; it was far from where we lived in the city. After all, no one could see us two together.

“Wanna smoke a joint?” he asked.


“Sure,” I wasn't sure if it was a smart or wrong move. Is this out of my lady-like planned behavior? Shit.


He grabbed one roll out of his khaki shorts pocket, lit it, gave it one puff, and passed it on. I felt the sweat on his palms. His forehead was dripping, and his biceps were looking tempting big below his tight navy-blue tee. One puff, two puffs. The smoke burning on the back of my throat, reaching out my lungs and coming out from my mouth. Please don’t cough, please don’t cough. I coughed. Fuck, such a loser.


“This shit is strong.” Oh damn, I swore.


“Do you want me to save it?”


“No, wait, one more." Screw first impressions.


He also took another puff and then he put it away. We sat there frozen, looking at the elegant men and women walking their pugs, French bulldogs and bathed white poodles and pushing their babies in luxury strollers, and laughed about every tiny nonsense that makes you crack up when you are high. Then he suddenly kissed me. His dry lips caught mine by surprise. His breath smelled like weed but he tasted like cherry.

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