Well that was a big improvement, apart from the last bit.
We met at seven – actually ten past, because I dribbled toothpaste on my pink top and I had to change, but I think the girl being late is allowed. Chris was waiting for me at the same corner as before. (Maybe that’ll be our corner from now on. Maybe in fifty years’ time we’ll be showing our grandchildren where we used to meet for our dates.)
He had the gel in his hair again, which was a bit disappointing. But he looked glad to see me, and I was still happy that he hadn’t been put off me forever, so I decided I wouldn’t let it bother me.
We walked to the pizza place, and thank goodness there was no sign of you-know-who there. (I mean Catherine and Bumble, in case you don’t know who.) I ordered a small cheese and pineapple pizza because I didn’t want Chris to think I was a savage – and also because I wasn’t sure how much of it I’d manage to eat anyway, with my nerves. He didn’t seem nervous at all – he ordered a medium pizza with pepperoni and onions for himself, so there wasn’t much wrong with his appetite. Maybe boys don’t get nervous about dating.
Anyway, it was fine – the date, I mean, not the pizza – although that was OK too. Not quite as good as the ones from Pizza Palace that Henry delivers, but good enough. Chris and I chatted away about school and stuff, and there weren’t too many embarrassing silences, and I actually managed to finish most of my pizza.
So everything was going fine until we began to walk home. Chris took my hand when we got outside the restaurant, which made me flutter a bit all over again, but it was kind of nice. And everything was going very well until we got to my gate.
And then I turned to him to say goodnight, and he lunged towards me and – how can I describe it? His face bashed into mine, and his nose jammed into my cheek, and he pressed his mouth up against mine for a second, and I could smell onions, and then it was over.
My first kiss – the thing I’d been half dreading and half hoping for since I was about eight. It took about three seconds, and all I remember is his nose shoved into my cheek and the smell of onions. I was so disappointed, I could barely say goodnight to him.
Aren’t kisses supposed to be wonderful, like in the films? Did I do something wrong? Or did I not do something I should have done?
Maybe we just need some practice. I’m sure it should be slower. They’re always much slower, in the films. And the boy should take the girl’s face in his hands, very gently, and sort of lean towards her, with a soppy look on his face. Chris did none of that. He mustn’t be watching the right kind of films.
I just know Chloe is going to call me tomorrow and ask me about kissing, since we figured it was going to happen tonight. I suppose I’ll have to pretend it was wonderful, so she won’t be disappointed.
Like I was.