Eventually, I began to relax. Being so near gave me this feeling of empowerment. As her lips narrowed toward mine I realized she thought I was Branch, but I refused to stop her. I couldn’t prevent something so tremendous and unrehearsed from happening. In that moment right from wrong didn’t exist. I had to cross the line because spending another second without her in my arms seemed unbearable.
I never intended to take it so far. From the second her lips pressed against mine I felt myself losing control. Her body was like a wonderland, welcoming me to explore. I’d dreamed of this moment, even prayed for it to happen.
This wasn’t just some girl that I was about to be intimate with. This was Kat, the girl I’d loved my whole life. She kept crying, pulling me closer. Her kisses were desperate, and I needed to save her from the pain. I wanted to be the one who could take it away, not because I wanted to, but because she desired it to be me. In my head I convinced myself that she knew the difference. I told my body to proceed.
From that first kiss, with every touch, I knew I couldn’t hold back. I’d love to be able to blame immaturity on my decision making, or perhaps my lack of control came from pent up anxiety of wanting her. Whatever the case, I couldn’t refrain.
“It hurts so much. Please just make the pain go away. Make me forget about it for just a little while. I can’t feel this way,” she continued sobbing.
I tried to talk my way out of it as a final desperate plea. “This won’t solve anything,” I whispered.
Her lips were back on mine, her tongue immediately taunting me to participate. She only pulled away to beg some more while reaching her hands up my sides underneath of my shirt. I should have pulled away, but her touch awakened parts of me that I didn’t know how to control. I became carried away, lost in the perpetual moment of having her all to myself. She hadn’t said my brother’s name, nor had she pushed me away. Denying her would be like refusing to breathe.
I took my time, kissing her soft skin, and savoring each and every kiss. I caressed her tender areas, making sure she knew I appreciated this opportunity. Her tears were silenced once our clothes were removed, and we lay there overtop of one another. Though shaky, I entered her with little effort, sending my body into an uncontrolled euphoria. I began to shake, hiding it with my movements as I set out for an unpracticed pace. Kat wasn’t just my first love, she was my first everything, and knowing that caused my senses to go awry.
When the moment was over we laid there in each other’s arms in silence. Out of breath, and still frazzled from what we’d just done, I knew I had to leave the room. It took everything in me to separate our bodies, kiss her, and then walk away.
Once I reached my room I closed the door and plopped down on my bed, first to celebrate silently to myself, but then to punish myself for the sins that I’d allowed myself to commit.
I’d just lost my virginity to the girl I loved, yet felt as if my heart had vacated my body and been replaced with utter guilt. I’d disrespected my brother, my parents, and most of all the one person I cared the most for.
When she awoke the next morning, clearly giving all of her attention to my brother, I knew what I feared was true. Kat hadn’t made love to me. She’d thought I was Branch, and I hadn’t corrected her.
For the next week I steered clear of them the best I could, in fear that they’d both approach me after discovering my secret. When a month passed I started to question if Kat was keeping it a secret, yet nothing had changed between us. I was still the third wheel, the person who kept them from being alone.
Deciding to let it go, I buried my pain by hooking up with random chicks from school. They’d never be Kat, but I couldn’t let it keep breaking me down. If she wasn’t meant to be mine, I had to move on, before the pain consumed me.
Each time we were together, every second I spent close to her, reminded me of that special night. When I rested my head to sleep, I spent countless hours thinking about her, drawing her in my sketchbook, and even writing letters that I knew I’d never give her. It was the only way to cope with what I’d done, and how I still felt.
The more I attempted to move on, the harder it became. Kat was relentlessly picking on every girl I talked to. She felt she was being a friend while I saw it as something else. It got her attention, which only made me do it more frequently. By the time the anniversary of her parent’s death came back around, I’d given myself a terrible reputation. No matter how hard I tried, she still wouldn’t stop giving me that look; the one that always left me hoping there was something between us.
It wasn’t until I brought someone home with me to her special dinner that everything became apparent. It was the breaking point; the one that would send me as far away as I could get.