This is going to be (hopefully) a series of responses to various writing prompts. They will generally be short, autobiographical, angsty, and more than likely rather depressing.
Describe a “first” (first apartment, first kiss, first time driving a car, first lie, first big success, first roller coaster ride, first time in this setting). Include as many details as possible, being sure to include an aspect relating to each of the five senses.
I had it all planned out. I had talked myself through the pros and cons in the mirror, and was feeling surprisingly calm about the whole thing. After all, everyone said that it was what you didn’t say that you regretted later on. This was supposed to be a giddy and nerve-wracking decision I was making, and yet I didn’t feel rattled in the slightest. I supposed that it would come later.
So on that stairwell landing that smelled faintly like peeling paint and old socks, I made my move. He had first hugged me here. It had been a simple friendly gesture, maybe even hesitant on his part. But it had been the first initiated close affectionate contact I had ever had with the opposite sex. It seemed fitting.
I said goodnight to the others first. I was eager to do it and get it over with, just to see his reaction. Not because I was nervous. Because I honest-to-God wasn’t. I had made up my mind. When it came to him . . . I stood on my tiptoes to rest my chin on his shoulder, felt the freezing synthetic material of his blue pullover jacket under my hands and face. He smelled so good, that scent that I would catch a whiff of even if he wasn’t around, the hot pine needle aroma that sent electric jitters to my knees and into my head.
One of the other guys was talking, stealing the moment without realizing it. I realized that I couldn’t hang on for too long without being conspicuous, and I didn’t necessarily want all his friends to know what I was doing. I didn’t think that would work out too well for him, his roommates being who they were.
“I love you,” I murmured. I was surprised at the lusty, restrained quality with which I delivered it. I had sounded like the tragic heroine in a cheap romance movie – I hadn’t meant it to sound that intense.
I pulled away. I didn’t look at him. I had done what I had set out to do, and did not need to wait around to see the effect it had had on him. I think I was frightened, looking back on it; whether it was to see complete shock on his face or no change in expression at all, I don’t know.
He didn’t say anything. We parted quickly, them filing into their dorm floor and me climbing the next two flights of stairs to my own. My thoughts were whirling – what was he thinking now? Did the others see or hear what had just happened? How was he going to act next time he saw me? Could I be certain he had even heard me?
But despite my spinning brain, I felt my heart strangely calm and settled. I suppose it’s because I knew that, no matter what the consequences, this had been the right thing to do.
The next day, I texted him and explained the whole incident away.