J, just J.

I had so many ridiculous pet names for you, didn’t I? Looking back, I have no explanation for any of it. You were the first person to kiss me. We were at a sleepover, and you thought I was asleep. I wasn’t. That kiss was shy and lasted a fluttering half-second, but I haven’t forgotten it. It burned my cheek and I held still, hoping for more. I hold you responsible for my strange habit of sleeping in public places, wanting badly for something like that to happen again.

I wrote the worst poetry for you. I still have the book we passed back and forth, filling with our meaningless sap. I can only stand quick glances at it because the writing is just painful. We meant it quite earnestly, didn’t we? Now we’re all grown up and living in the same city again, I wonder what it might be like to see you again. I think we could laugh at the silly girls we were. You, trying to make me jealous to get my attention, and me walking away because clearly your actions meant you didn’t like me anymore. I am curious how it looked from your eyes. Have you still not forgiven me? Don’t ever believe it was because I didn’t care enough. I cared too much to let you see it. I still remember the scent of your hand soap and the exact shade your bright blue-green eyes. And of course, that first kiss. Forgive me one day, won’t you?

(Disclaimer: This is part of the letter series)

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