The very first minute of the new year my lips were touching another boy's.
They weren't the originial lips I thought mine would be touching at this moment, nor the next lips in line.
In fact, they were the lips I have wanted to kiss me since Homecoming night, and long before that even, but never thought would. My other best friend's.
I have grown up with him since kindergarten, he and his sister.
I still remember our childhood endeavors on the playground and running in and around both of our houses.
Our bond has been something that has continually gotten stronger with time; he has always been there for me on my drunken nights- offering a strong shoulder to help me stay upright and a hand to help me into cars.
He has always been the first one to open a door for me.
Over the summer he protected me from perverted boys- telling me to cover my body with a towel because he noticed a few of his friends eyeing me as I walked past them.
He has two sisters so he knows how to treat girls.
He respects me and I respect him equally.
We have been on lunch dates and gone to a dance together. Always as friends.
On Homecoming night I thought I would recieve my first kiss from him. I didn't. Then I figured it would come the next night either at the dance or afterwards when he dropped me off. Still no kiss. So I gave up. He didn't want me and I was fine with that- just another friend. Just another really good friend.
This was the boy that kissed me on New Year's.
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