the first time around.

The first time I saw him he was sitting on a stool, sort of leaning his 6′ 4″ hulking football player body forward with his elbows on his knees behind the customer service desk at Family Fare.

His hat was pulled down low almost covering his piercing blue eyes.  And he gave me the obligatory dude head nod when our mutual friend, a fellow football teammate of his, introduced us.

I fell hard.  Right there.  In Family Fare.

No one noticed.  It went undetected, but something in my heart leaped into my throat and stayed there.

He was everything that I found dreamy as an 17-year old.

He was tall, muscular and athletic, but he wasn’t a typical jock.  There was something dark and mysterious about him.  Maybe it was the long sideburns and the chin scruff.  What 16-year old could do that?

Maybe it was his way of using as few words as possible.

Maybe it was the adventure of trying to find just the right thing that would make him smile…or better, laugh.

I annoyed him.  Everything about me was the opposite of what he was.  I was loud, silly, and somewhat obnoxious.  I liked to be the center of attention.  He was none of these things.  If he said something, everyone was quiet because what he was saying must be important if he would break from his silent code.

I don’t know how it happened.  I guess the circumstances were just right.  It was almost two years later.  There was alcohol.  And friends.  And laughing.

Somehow we kissed.

And I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

What should we do about this?

I don’t know.

Should we just see what happens?

Ok.

Ok.

So what just happened?  Five years of my life building toward an eternity and amounting to nothing.

But before that?

Sweet stolen kisses on a beach.

Opposites drawn together regardless of opinion.

Laughter and tears.  But mostly laughter.

And a whole lot of compromising myself.

Advertisements

About ksluiter

Just a small town girl...wait no, that is a Journey song. Although I do live in a small town. I am a wife, a mother, a teacher, and a writer. We have joys and we have struggles. Just like you.
This entry was posted in beach love, doing something new, giving in to fate, how i met your father, i like heavy metal, life changes, life decision, memories from being a dumb college kid, nonfiction, out of my control, Red Dress Club, things we don't talk about. Bookmark the permalink.

17 Responses to the first time around.

  1. Jackie says:

    I love it! It seems that a story like that happens often. I assume there’s more?

  2. Pingback: Tweets that mention the first time around. | -- Topsy.com

  3. this does not sound so good. i am already nervous for you..

  4. Carrie says:

    Hmmm…he sounds like trouble!

    Visiting from Red Writing Hood

  5. I really enjoyed this. I felt like I was there with you. I wish you had a follow button.

    Stopping by from the red dress club.

    • ksluiter says:

      i have a subscribe or an email subscribe, but no GCF. It doesn’t like wordpress, unfortunately. but thank you. it’s a bit hard to go back to that boy in my mind. especially the time when i loved him.

  6. Nichole says:

    You have left me with so many questions, Katie.
    Mostly, I want to know if he was bad, or if he was just bad for *you*.

  7. I sense an aching in your nostalgia. It is a well-written piece. I would like to read more if you ever feel like revisiting this place again.

    • ksluiter says:

      thank you. yes, I feel like this wasn’t my best writing, actually, but it WAS my first love. I wanted to write it and I didn’t want to at the same time.

      I hope to revisit…it was 5 years of my life. There is much to say.

  8. Ratz says:

    Oh this is sad… there is more to it, isn’t it! i hope you are feeling alright?

  9. i had a few of those good – but – not – so – good early loves. they usually don’t end well. Though they feel good when you are wrapped & entangled within them.

    sigh.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s