watermelon lip balm

The summer between sixth and seventh grade was when everything changed. It was the summer of late-night bike rides, mosquito bites we refused to scratch, and the endless construction of blanket forts on my front porch. But mostly, it was the summer of MaryAnne.

MaryAnne had been my best friend since second grade. She was taller than me, louder, and had this way of tilting her head when she was thinking that made it seem like she had the answers to everything. We did everything together—sleepovers, school projects, passing notes during class, dreaming up elaborate futures where we’d travel the world as famous explorers or open a bookstore by the beach.

But that summer, something was different.

It was in the way she looked at me sometimes, like she was seeing me for the first time. It was in the way my stomach flipped when she brushed against me or if she sat too close. I loved laying with her side by side in the shade, whispering secrets that felt bigger than us. I didn’t have words for what I was feeling, only that I wanted to be near her in a way that both thrilled and terrified me.

We used to build forts on the back porch of my house. We’d drape old blankets over the porch railing, secure them with clothespins, and line the inside with every pillow we could find. It always smelled like summer—cut grass, Herbal Essence and the lingering scent of Beth’s watermelon lip balm. We’d curl up inside, whispering about the upcoming school year and how scary it was that we were almost teenagers. And then the conversation drifted, as it always did, to love.

“Do you think you’ll ever have a boyfriend?” MaryAnne asked, twirling the end of her ponytail around her finger.

“Maybe. But…I don’t know.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

She sighed, shifting onto her side to face me. “It’s weird, right? How some people just know?”

I nodded, “Do you think you’ll ever have a boyfriend?” Beth asked. 

“Maybe. But…I don’t know.”

“Yeah. Me neither.” She sighed, shifting onto her side to face me. 

MaryAnne studied me for a long moment, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the blanket. Then, suddenly she reached out and put her hand on my cheek. I remember swallowing hard and feeling like my heart was beating way too fast, even though I had no idea why.

“Can I try something?” she asked. hard.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

She leaned in, just a little, her lips hovering close enough that I could feel her breath on my skin. And then, softly, tentatively, she kissed me.

She leaned in and kissed me, just a soft, quick kiss, but it made my stomach feel like it had dropped. Her lips were warm and a little wet and tasted like watermelon lip balm. It wasn’t weird, or awkward, or anything I thought my first kiss would be like. It just felt… right.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and she let out a nervous laugh. “That was…weird, right?”

I shook my head. “No. I mean… maybe? But not bad.”

MaryAnne bit her lip, considering, and then she laughed. That laugh that made me laugh even if what she said wasn’t all that funny.

“Yeah. Not bad.” she giggled.

We never really talked about it again after that, not in words. But after that kiss, things were different. We found excuses to sit closer, to brush hands when we passed each other things, little things that were just outside the edge of innocence. We were still best friends, still giggling over inside jokes and making up ridiculous dances to whatever song was stuck in our heads. But now, there was something more. Something unspoken and in many ways, life changing for me.

I didn’t know what it all meant or if it meant anything at all to MaryAnne, but for me it was life affirming. Once MaryAnne had kissed me, I knew without a doubt that I never wanted to be kissed by some yucky boy even though there were no more kisses after that night. That summer, the summer of sheet forts , Herbal Essence and watermelon lip balm, is one I will never forget. Do any of us really ever forget our first kiss?

Jennie Kalagian | Hamilton, ON