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The First Kiss

“Hi.”

I jumped. Although I’d been willing him to turn up, he’d managed to sneak up on me. I had been looking out for him, turning enough slow circles to wear a hole in the floor of Victoria station for the past twenty minutes. Somehow he’d gotten passed me.

“Hi.” My voice squeaked. I wasn’t prepared. I gulped down some air, feeling lightheaded. He was actually here.

We stood staring at each other, his face reddening at the same rate that I could feel mine heating up. I dropped my eyes and stared at the ground at my black Vans and his red Converse. His large man boy feet, almost too big for his body.

This was our first date.

This was my first ever date. No, I definitely wasn’t prepared.

I took a quick peek up at him to find he’d done the same. Our eyes met, I grew hotter and quickly stared again at his feet. The rubber caps had black marks on them and white, almost frayed holes where his little toes had rubbed against the canvas.

They were the same shoes he’d worn at the dance. He’d trod on my feet as we bounced and pogoed in the uncool corner of the hall. Then breathlessly apologised before grabbing my hands and pulling me with him. He told me that his name was Tom and instead of being upset that my toes had been crushed, I loved his silliness, his geekiness and his mop of dark blond corkscrew curls.