I never thought she would be the one. In fact, until she was, I would have gagged at the thought of it. We were best friends, and we took each others virginity.
It started out fifteen years ago, when we were three. I had just moved to our city and she was next door. This was still an innocent time when neighbors greeted new mover-inners, so her parents and my parents met each other, and Stephanie and I stood there, between our respective parents, in our diapers. I gave her a look, she gave me a look, and we knew without saying a word that this was a true friendship, not the stereotypical hang-out-after-school-playing-basketball friendship, but one where we would always be there for the other.
The years passed, and we only grew closer. We shared everything together (except ourselves, that is), and some people thought we were going out, but soon friends learned not to even joke about it. Me going out with Stephanie was like dating my sister. It was sick, twisted, and tabooed. We may as well each be gay, because heaven forbid we date one another.
But all that changed in the blink of an eye. We each went to the University of South Carolina (our home state), each majoring in the same thing (small business ownership). We had apartments across the hall from each other. I was sitting at my apartment watching TV when Stephanie just walked in like she owned the joint. That in and of itself didn't bother me. She did that all the time. We had an unofficial "no-knock necessary" policy on each other. What startled me this time was that she was in tears. She had cried before, as girls do, but this was a cry unlike anything I had ever heard from her. It sounded her mother had died and she just got told over the phone.
"Steph, what's wrong?" About two minutes later, she had finally calmed down, and looked at me with those brown, lion eyes, and she said "My... date... horrible!" And she exploded into another session of supersobbing (I made that word up).
Did I just hear her right? She was this miserable because of a bad date?
"Steph, how can a date-"
"YOU DON'T GET IT JACK!" She screamed, and I knew that this guy she was going on a date with was the most obnoxious, self-centered, sex-crazed asshole of a male you could ever imagine. I suddenly felt my dinner coming up, and sure enough, I puked it all over my carpet. When someone says that a friend's misfortune makes them sick, they don't mean it literally, except us.
"Oh," I said, catching my breath, and she grabs me and hugs me, like I'm the only one she trusts. I embrace her back, and after two minutes, we let go and gaze into each other's eyes. She gives a faint smile, which lets me know that my presence and friendship alone has made her feel a little better.
Then, it happened. As we were looking into each other's eyes, some supernatural force interfered. Our looks changed from the closest friendship to the most flawless, most passionate love one could ever think of. There was no questioning it. There was no "What's this strange feeling?" We knew we were destined for each other.
And as flawless as a kiss can be, our lips met, and our tongues danced in each other's mouths as I massaged her long, straight, black hair and she ran her fingers through my short, thick, brown hair. Our heads moved back and forth as we ground our lips and tongues against one another. It just got hotter and hotter by the second. We were already sweating, and we had just made out. Gives you a good indication of how much we were in love, now that I think about it.
