Once it’s gone, it’s gone.
With long brown hair that hung in loose curls, hazel eyes forever framed by blue-rimmed glasses, she didn’t picture herself pretty. She continuously compared herself to every other girl, never quite measuring up.
And not just in the looks department, but her innocence. She was so innocent, naïve. She had yet to learn the ways of the world, how heartless and unfeeling people could be. She trusted your word; if you said it, you surely must live by it.
Because in her world, why would you lie when the truth was so much easier? Her world was pretty near fantasy.
Until the day she met him.
Months trickled by before she finally sought him out after that initial meeting. Things went awkwardly at first, and she left full of embarrassment. Instead of being turned off to the idea of putting herself out there, she drew confidence from it. After all, what was life if you never pushed past your own insecurities?
Another meeting turned into another.
Her innocence started to wear on her. How could she keep his interest if they shared nothing in common? She took the offered beer. The first time she ever gave in to peer pressure was that can of Budlight, offered to her in some strange man’s home.
Then came the vodka. And with it, pieces of her innocence lost, riding on the wind.
She’d never really been kissed, but then that night came it finally happened.
“Stay the night,” he said softly.
She blinked at him. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
He simply nodded, and she agreed. Just like that. It felt daring, agreeing to stay the whole night at a man’s house, in his bed. Pushing herself, seeing how far she could go.
They lay in bed, and she feels him touch her gently. She turns into him, and his finger is lifting her chin. His lips caress hers. Her heart quickens.
So this is a real kiss! Her mind screams. She can barely breathe, catch her breath.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue doing things she’d only ever read about.
His hands grasp at her breasts. Her breathing hitches. His hands trail lightly down her stomach, to between her legs.
She pulls back. “No,” she whispers, “I’m a virgin…I don’t feel comfortable going any further.”
Her face flames red in the dark lit room. What must he think of her?
He kisses her a final time, and lays down.
In the morning, she drives home, replaying the entire scene in her head. Her head whirled. Things had never been so exciting. Her life was finally gaining something worth sharing. She was finally getting out and doing more than just reading books and writing.
Until she stopped and remembered her whispered confession. He wouldn’t ever talk to her again, she just knew it. But, she comforted herself, she had finally stepped out of her box, and gained a little more experience.
Her innocence, well she was shrugging it off like a winter’s coat in spring.