We were there in the dark on my side porch.  I was young and naïve, yet smart and aware.  We were sitting; he in an Indian style position, I was kneeling in his lap.  Looking into my eyes, he gently touched my face, brushing the hair out of my eyes. A move that every boy knows will make a girl’s heart melt a little.

    “Don’t you want to do what they are doing?” He asks, referring to our friends who were making out and more a little ways away.
    “I guess” my voice was quiet and shaky.

We started to kiss.
I nervously pulled away.

    “I may not be very good at this.”
    “That’s okay, you’re doing great.”

Our lips met again.
The night was quiet.
It felt strange.
He had one hand cupping my face, the other caressing my thigh. 
The air was crisp.
I shivered and pulled away.

    “It’s okay. Do you want to keep going? Don’t you want to do what they are doing?” He asks again
    “I don’t know.”
    “Come on, you’ll like it.  It will be fun.”

He puts his lips to mine again.
I knew what would come next.
I didn’t want it to. I pulled away again.

    “I can’t.”

I try to get up but he is pulling my arm

    “C’mon we don’t have to do that”

I hesitate

    “No I can’t, I have to go.”  My voice has a little more force to it this time.

He is still holding on tight to my arm.
I pull away as hard as I can.
I run around the corner and into my house.
I don’t look back.
No one is home. The house is dark.
Stumbling and shaking, I run upstairs into my bedroom and close the door.
I sink to the floor and start to cry.
Cry for what I still have and cry for what I almost lost to a boy I barely knew.
To a boy four years older than me.
To a boy who didn’t know me. 
To a boy who didn’t care.