Spin the Bottle

I didn't want her to see my pleasure. I didn't want them to see my
red face as the bottle decidedly stopped, pointing toward her. I took
another shot of Vodka and offered one to her. We both needed the
alcohol. She quickly drank and told me, "You have to go first."

I stared at her. She is very exotic, very pretty. She puts glitter on
her eyelashes and fixes her hair and plays soccer with the boys. She
likes to take pictures and draw women with diamond eyes and long
strands of hair. Once, I gave her a sketchpad from a fancy art museum
in New York City. When she gave it back to me, there was a beautiful
woman inside. I have it in a box at home, so when I open the sketchpad
and see the woman, I'll remember her.

I was excited but nervous too and wondered if she felt the same way. I
could see her hands tightly gripping the bed cover as she anxiously
smiled and bared her teeth. The same smile she gave in my Prom picture
from eleventh grade and my roommate's photo from twelfth grade. I am
used to her now, and it is hard for her to confuse me anymore.

The first time I tried to kiss her was in a dark room two years ago. I
tickled her and she hit me and we called each other "goofball." Then we
became tired and lay down on the floor with our heads together, making
an L, and talked. That is why I liked her so much. I could listen to
her for hours and she would listen to me too. That evening, I asked,
"can I kiss you?"

She froze up and backed herself against the wall, stuttering and
murmuring. She had scissors and chopped up the paper in her hand. I
didn't want her to hurt herself, and I didn't want her to run away from
me, like she had done before. I didn't have the courage to not care
about her either. We were still innocent. We looked at each other for a
while, and, finally, I left, embarrassed, sad, and pissed off.

"Just do it damn it! Everyone knows you both want to. Fine," this kid
said as he reached for the bottle. I felt it, my stomach turning and
the air rushing out of my lungs. I almost wanted to cry.

"Well, ok, I will if I have too," I trailed off, trying to feign some
reluctance.