Dee and I talked all the way home that first night. When I pulled up in front of her house we sat in the car until it was time to walk her to the door. We talked about little things and nothing at all. I just loved to hear the smile in her voice. It comforted me greatly as no other. She told me bits and pieces of her life story. How many siblings in her family, their ages, what activities she participated in at school, things she liked to do. I was beginning to learn just who she was. As curfew approached I got out of the car and walked around to open the door for her. We walked hand in hand slowly across the street and up the walkway to her door, neither one wanting the night to end. As we quietly made our way up to the porch, I kept thinking, oh boy, now what, do I kiss her? Is she expecting a kiss? Is it too soon? Will she be offended that I am trying to put the moves on her? A thousand divergent thoughts raced through my brain in the fifty feet up the walk to the steps. It was an endless journey to a destination that couldn’t come quick enough. At the top of the stairs we stood under the porch light in front of her door as she fiddled with her keys looking down at them. The moment of truth I had to make a decision. Dee exuded a sweetness and innocence that was intoxicating. Already I was addicted. Her soft eyes glancing downward, then back to me, then back to the keys she delicately caressed. I didn’t want to spoil that innocence with a mere kiss. Should I take the chance? If I don’t will I ever get another? Would her brother beat me up? Would her dad really shoot me?
I figured a kiss on the forehead was safe—not too forward and not too shy like a dork afraid to kiss a girl. I didn’t want to be forever relegated to that no man’s land of being just a friend. I desperately wanted a second date and didn’t want to do anything to screw it up.
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