That Kiss

 

Photo;Shandra Beri

He pulled me up onto the bar and instead of the drunken tickle I was expecting, he pressed our intertwined fingers around to the small off my back and drew me in close. He woke me from my intoxicated laughter by looking into my eyes with absolute love and clarity. In that moment, so much passed between us that tears came- but they shined and balanced on the rims of our lower lids without spilling over. We had spent so much time together, confessed so many secrets, we already seemed to be one. He was my best friend and I loved him with every beat of my 20 year old heart. His free hand moved up the side of my body until he cradled my neck and threaded his fingers into the wet tangle of my dance-sweat hair. We stood on the bar, solidly embedded in that beautiful transaction while The Frolic Room spun around us and did not blink an eye. When he finally- slowly and deliberately- kissed me, every nerve ending in my body was tipped with a little green light and I felt myself hum with a sensation that set me afloat. I understood for the first time what the big deal was about being kissed.

Over the next few hours, that kiss sculpted us into The Oblivious Young Lovers we were. At closing time, it spilled us out into the warm night to wander over the stars of Hollywood Boulevard. Without trying very hard at all, I can still feel the wind breathing shapes onto the vintage silk of my dress as we paused our romantic amble again and again to press our lips together. That kiss bound us and came in like a hot tide to drag us out and ultimately toss us around in a sea of disheveled romance for years. That kiss became the one by which all others (not shared with him...) would be judged. That kiss was the starting point for my first grown up heartbreak. That kiss, with the backdrop of inexperience and fully intact optimism, I now know was the best kiss of my life.