To most young males, “Do whatever you want to me” uttered from a friend is almost a non-issue as to what the natural response is yet I answered this in the least expected way. The lead up to this unusual offer is almost as unbelievable as the offer itself. Her calling to me from her bed across the room, my refusal, her insistence, and finally laying next to her hearing those words whispered to me and my confused young minds’ response; A kiss.
I spent many nights at my best friend’s house, mostly because we were best friends and my parents need to go out. We slept in the same room, me, my brother, my best friend and his two younger sisters. I thought I was the only one awake. As I laid there in the small room lit up by the hall light, I heard her call to me. Her head was poking out from the top of their bunk bed, “Toi, come up here with me.”
“No,” I snapped. We’ve had a history together. A history as much as two young people like us could have. Put simply, I wasn’t in a hurry to jump into bed with her.
Her whisper grew softer, a gentle plead in her voice,”Please come up, Toi”
“NO!” a growl slipped into my tone trying not to waking anyone sleeping around me,”I’m not going to let you get me in trouble again”
Her head shook rapidly, “No, I won’t. Just please come up.”
I couldn’t believe when my foot was planted down on one of the wooden steps on the ladder. Further shock as I lay pressed against her side, under the soft blue light radiating from her blanket onto her white pajamas. My hearts pounded in my ear, almost blocking out the sound of the TV her parents were listening to in the next room. Her voice pulled my attention to her, “Thank you for coming up”
“What do you want?”
She smiled, “I wanted to see you”
“Well you saw me” I started back to the ladder when she reached out and pulled me back.
“No! I wanted to tell you something too!”
I was back next to her, the same smile not leaving her face.
“What?” I nervously shuffled, dying to leave but drawn to stay.
“Do whatever you want to me”
There was no tone in her voice, said as plainly as one might read the ingredients from a recipe book.
“What do you mean?” Of course I knew what she meant, but it struck me no differently than if she had said “I’m baking puppies and there’s plenty for you”
“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” she closed her eyes and laid her head back, “I’m yours”
So I lay there, staring down at her, thinking “What do I want to do?” And my only thought was, I wanted to kiss her. I didn’t want to kiss her because I loved her or even liked her. At some point in my life, I put all of my future worth in a relationship into how I kiss. This was a real fear. If I wanted someone to like me, not being able to kiss them would ruin that chance forever. This was perfect.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. I expected something but there were no spark, or instant love, just two warm lips pressed together. I was confused. What did I do wrong? Embarrassed, I asked to kiss her again and she repeated her offer. So I kissed her again with the same reaction. I could tell she wasn’t getting what she wanted, waiting breathlessly for something I wasn’t going to do. But I also didn’t get what I wanted. It was empty.
I left her lying there without protest. I wouldn’t have heard her past my thoughts on the important kiss. I lingered on it. Moments later my parents showed up to collect us and not long after I was in my own bed. It never occurred to me what she wanted, only that she wanted more. My mind was only focused on the kiss. I fell asleep convinced that there was nothing there because I had no feelings for her and because I didn’t try to French kiss her. Even with her offer to do anything, I couldn’t bring myself to use my tongue. “Yes,” I rolled over, “It must be in the tongue.”