This is a true story. Happened the night of December 8, 2008. For some reason I felt the need to switch the point of view when it gets to the sexier part. Meh, I dunno. It's just a whole lot easier to write about it without talking about myself, and I personally think it's a whole lot more fun to read that way. So... Deal with it.
"You don't have sex with someone you've known since first grade." This statement made by Seth Rogan in Zack and Miri Make a Porno only added to the sexual tension between the two who giggled at this statement in the theater, not to mention foreshadowed an event that both saw coming.
To start off with, I am a high school senior in a small town in Washington, just outside of Seattle. Standing at a grand height of 5'4", I'd say I'm a bit prettier than your average Jane. With straight shoulder-length reddish-blonde hair, large blue eyes, and rosy lips and cheeks, I'd actually say I'm pretty cute! Well at least that's what Dylan thinks. Perhaps my 36C breasts and matching hip/ass area which are the basis of my slender yet curvaceous hourglass frame help a bit too.
Dylan and I had known each other since I was in kindergarten, he in first grade. One of those people you don't really talk to or consider a friend, but in a small town you're bound to run in to one another, know a bit about each other's love and social lives, and make the knowing eye contact and twitchy half-smile when you see them at school, in the mall, the park, etc. That's what Dylan was to me. With soft, medium-length and colored brown curly hair, the palest shade of hazel-green eyes you've ever seen, a pale complexion with matching supple pink lips, and a prominent nose, chin, and Adam's apple, one can't help but have somewhat of a crush. The boy should become a goddamn model for Christ's sake! Six feet tall and with the long slender body of a saint... it's just not natural, I tell you!
Fast forward. Dylan and I met up at a party—we had thrown a surprise 18th birthday party in late November of my senior year of high school for my best friend at the "party house" (the first in the group of friends to get their own place is seemingly always plagued with the apartment where parties seem to happen every weekend, regardless of their own planning). Just a few people were to show: we had a bottle of vodka and a few bowls of ganja to share, and the best times are among fewer friends anyway. Now seeing as this was the party house, of course people were bound to show up after a few hours.
Intro Dylan. Though we didn't talk for the first few hours after he randomly showed up at the party, it's not like we were ignoring each other either. We were comfortable enough to make a few comments and some flirty looks at first, but later that night is where it all began.
"Hey, wanna come out to the back porch with me for a cigarette?" he asked me.
"Sure, I'll meet you out there in a minute," I smiled, slightly taken aback.
The 10 minute cigarette turned into hours spent out in the chill, freezing but enjoying the company of one another and the endless and deep conversation that tends to issue after the consumption of alcohol and the use of marijuana. We felt as though we'd been friends the whole time we've known each other, not just mere acquaintances finally talking 12 years later at a party. The night ended in the exchange of phone numbers and a warm goodnight embrace.