First Kiss
by Mallory

He was your first kiss.

You were thirteen and had awful tortoise shell glasses because your mother said you were too young for contact lenses, and he slid those awful glasses off your face so gently before he kissed you, and that was when you knew you loved him.

That kiss sort of dissolved into giggles and he never kissed you again.

He's your best friend, and you've loved him ever since he kissed you, and you've had had an awful crush on him since the age of eleven, when you both sat on his porch and swung your feet over the edge, and shared cherry lollipops.

He's your best friend. You grew up together. You love him.

There were a lot of girls, you remember. He always had someone he liked, or someone that liked him, and you watched as he strung all these girls along, as he walked them home, as he kissed them good night. You listened to him talk about each and every one of them, and sometimes you wished you were a boy, because that's how he was talking to you. As if you were a boy.

You really can't blame him for only seeing you as a friend. You're not pretty, not really, and you don't have an awesome figure, and you're not like one of the women he reads about in his books. You're just you. And that's not enough for him.


And then came Nathan.

Nathan makes you sort of forget about Luke. Before Nathan, you would fall asleep thinking about Lucas and what you had done that day, and what you would do tomorrow, and you wouldn't allow yourself to think of what you really wanted to do with him. But when you started to tutor Nathan, it was him that you thought about before you fell asleep, and you let yourself imagine what it would feel like to touch him.

What you feel about Nathan is different than what you feel about Luke, but you do love him. God, do you love him. You love the way his brushes your hair out of your face and you love the way he smiles. You love it when he kisses you and when he holds you so hard you think you'll break, and you want to break, because that's how much you love him.

You look at Luke and you think Luke's perfect, and you look at Nathan and you think Nathan's perfect, and the only real difference between the two is that Nathan thinks you're perfect, too.

You love Nathan. More importantly, Nathan loves you.


Sometimes you think your life is like a soap opera plotline.

One summer, you and Lucas watched The Young and the Restless religiously. And you think, really, that your life could be one of the plotlines.

It's a bit cliché, being in love with two brothers.

It's Nathan, you tell yourself, it's only Nathan, it's always Nathan, it's got to be Nathan.

Because you love Nathan.

But somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know, it's not really about Nathan at all.

This is about how when you walk away with Nathan, you always turn your head to look at Luke one last time.