First and Only Love

First and Only Love (One Friday Night One Shot Contest)

And then I was no longer running, but flailing my limbs as I fell face-first into the big container of sand- the sandbox.

The pattern of steps behind me sped up, and the volume of them intensified. "Allie-bear! Allie! Can you hear me?!"

"I fell, I'm not dead." I mumbled into the sand, feeling the urge to roll my eyes.

"Let me help you." I reached for his hand and he yanked me upright, grinning at the sight of my golden hair covered in sand. With anyone else, I probably would've scowled and pulled my hand away, but with him, the only thing I could focus on was the warmth of his hand in mine, and the tingles radiating from where he touched.

He still didn't pull his hand away as he laughed and the sound of his laugh pulled me back from daydreaming. "Are you laughing at me?" I pouted, feeling the urge to cross my arms across my chest.

This, of course, only made him laugh harder. So, I gave him a little push and he tipped over into the sandbox. Unfortunately, I had conveniently forgotten that our hands were still woven together.

I fell, again. And then we couldn't help but laugh together as we lay in the box, covered in sand, and connected by our hands.

"You know," Brandie started once the giggles had died down, "I was planning to push you on the swing set, but I guess some things are better than swinging." I smiled just like always, but I didn't say anything back. Instead I looked up into the darkening sky, trying to commit everything about this to memory so I could savour the moment for as long as possible.

***

On our way back to my house, we took turns making up rhymes and talking about anything that came to mind. "Brandie Black had a duck, the guy, he has so much luck." I said when it was my turn.

"And this man, had so much luck you see, because he knew, Ms. Allie-bee." He responded, finishing my poem.

For the millionth time today, I smiled at something Brandie said. Whenever we hang out, my cheeks end up hurting because I grin 24/7 around him. I wonder if his do too, because he seems to always smile.

After our last poem we walked in a comfortable silence. Letting my house approach until it was right in front of us.

"Well, good night! Do you want to hang out tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," he answered, "my house or yours?" But he was looking at me with a really strange look on his face, one that I had never seen before.

"Brandie, are you okay?"

Instead of answering he leaned forward until I could feel his breath on my face and he lightly pressed his lips against my cheek. "Goodnight Allie-bee."

And then he was gone and I could hear his mom from down the street, "RYDER BLACK! It is time for Dinner!!"

"Goodnight Brandie." I whispered. With that, I pushed open our screen door and all but ran into my mother who was standing behind the door.

"Allie! You're all sandy! What did you guys do? My goodness, don't get it all over the house! Let's get you in the tub!"

She began to guide me over the house, keeping me on carpet saying she could vacuum the rugs, but she couldn't vacuum the floors.

Once we were in the bathroom, the water had been run, and my clothes were stripped, she lightly ordered me to get in the bath.

"But I can't." I answered. "I'm scared."

"A little water never hurt anyone." My mom answered, her tone telling me I couldn't get around taking a bath. So I took one.

But she misunderstood. I wasn't scared of the water. I was scared of washing off the tingles that still tickled my cheek.

***

Once I was in bed, I laid down and carefully slid my wedding plans diary out of my pillow case. I opened the pink book, and took out my special purple feathered pen. Remembering earlier, I wrote "calls my mom his mom" in the section labeled criteria. After that was written, I checked the rest of my entries to make sure everything was in order.

When I reached the part that was titled Fiancé (mom told me it meant: the guy you will marry), I read what I had written under it.

None. Boys have cooties.

I smiled at it, remembering when I first wrote it. Two weeks ago I was writing in my diary at the park when a boy came up to me trying to steal it so he could read it. Brandie stood up to him and kept me from embarrassment. In my head, I called him 'my hero' for the rest of the week. For the other boy, I was so angry that I labeled boys as cootie-holders in my book.

Then I remembered last week, when Brandie helped me carry my backpack to class, because I had a project and couldn't carry it all.

Right after that, the memory appeared of Brandie and I at lunch. He complimented my new dress and we switched food because I like peanut butter and jelly better than ham and cheese.

I put a line through the words in my diary, successfully taking the them back.

Memory after memory popped up until tonight replayed in my head. The tingles reappeared when I thought about us in the porch and I was glad that I wasn't able to wash them off.

My purple pen began to move, and I looked down at the book, surprised I had written something. But when I saw what it was, I smiled and left it, closing the book and sliding it back into my pillow case.

The pen went back into its place, and I closed my eyes, when my head fell against the pillow. And behind my eyes, I could still see the bright pink page.

In purple ink at the top, Fiancé was written and underlined.

Under it (and the crossed out words) I had written:

Ryder (Brandie) Black