When I was in high school, I dated a water-polo bro named Ian. He was really into Nine Inch Nails and System of a Down so that’s what we’re dealing with. I met him through orchestra and he was tall (6’4”), so I thought I was something really special. Really, all we did was hold hands in movie theatres. One night after seeing some movie that I doubt I was paying much attention to, we went to Starbucks. I bought a vanilla frappucino and was wearing those lingerie tank tops that were really popular in high school. Woof. But we leave the Starbucks as my Dad’s about to pick me up and he leaned down and kissed me. I thought it was awkward and was scared because I didn’t know what to do but walked away blushing and dreamt of future movie theatre makeout sessions that would inevitably follow.
My friend has a much cuter story. The summer before high school, she and Joe went to the apple orchard together. His Mom drove and picked her up and they both sat in the backseat, even though shotgun was clearly open and available. The scene is set: with my friend and Joe sitting in the backseat making awkward conversation with his Mom. The picked apples together, putting some in their baskets, and eating others along the walk. The best apple happened to be out of her reach so she asked him if he would kindly pick the apple for her. He had his hand on the apple and looked down at her and said, “I’ll trade you this apple for a kiss.” She doesn’t even know what happened to that apple. She doesn’t even know if she ate it because God knows it wasn’t about an apple.