“I-I just wanted to get your attention because you wouldn’t look at me so there was nothing else I could to.” He then takes my hand in his and laces his fingers between mine. I yank my arm away. “What is your problem?” I ask him fiercely. He stays silent, as his cheeks turn red with embarrassment. “Sorry,” I say feeling bad for him.
“There’s no need for you to be sorry,” a small pause, “Can you come with me? Please?” I follow him into the living room, and he closes the door. “What are you doing?” He walks over to me, and stops when he is a couple inches away from me. He stands there, not moving. I back away. “I’m going back to dinner.” He grabs my wrist and turns me around; I am facing him. He clutches my face in his hands and kisses me lightly. For a second, I linger, and then I pull away abruptly and smack him hard across the face. I run out of the room before I can see his reaction. I go back to the table because it’s the only place I know of. My first kiss, and it had to be ruined by him. Good God. Well that’s disappointing. As I start eating mashed potatoes, I notice Sasha looking at me oddly from across the table, and she mouths the words, ‘Are you okay?’ I nod and smile because I hate feeling weak so I must act like nothing fazes me. I guess I feel this way because when I was younger my father forced me to watch as he abused my sister. Not sexually, but he punched her and he kicked her many times. One night when I was six, I got so scared when my mom was out that I called ‘911’. When they arrived, my father got so mad he slapped me across the face before the police came in the house. He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back and said, “Don’t ever call them again. Do you understand?” I nodded. “I said, ‘do you understand?’” He spitted at me as he twisted my arm further causing it to break. “Yes, yes! I understand,” I managed to get out through sobs. I guess it’s just another one of my pleasant childhood memories. Anyways, I feel awful for smacking him because it hurts. Trust me, I know. I excuse myself once again from the table and find him sitting in the same room I left him. He is on the floor with his head in his hands. He doesn’t even need to look up to know it’s me. “Go away,” he sounds embarrassed.
“I wasn’t going to rub it in your face or anything, I just came back to apologize.”
“For what? You didn’t do anything. I was the one who kissed you without your permission.” I walk over to him and sit beside him on the floor. “Well I was the one who slapped you without your permission.” I say trying to make him smile and he does. He removes his hands from his face and looks up at me. “It’s weird looking up at a girl,” he says.
“Why is that?”
“Because I’m not used to looking up. I’m usually one of the tallest.”
“You’ll grow.”
“How tall are you?”
“5’8. You?”
“5’6.” I nod. He pauses. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I was wondering about you!”
“Why?”
“Maybe because you have a hand print on your face.”
“Oh. That.”
“How is it?”
“It hurts a bit.”
“I know it does. I’m sorry.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t really like to talk about it,” I say not wanting Mark, my father, to ruin my night.
“Why not?”
“Come to the bathroom with me, and I’ll tell you how bad your cheek is.” I say quickly trying to change the subject.
Chapter 2
Start from the beginning
