That party—it wasn’t even a party at all! It was yet another trap, for the young, naïve sophomores so the upperclassmen could torture us. The sophomores were lined up on the beach and shoved their faces into ice cream and wouldn’t let us get up to breathe. Not that this was my problem, I punched the shit out of anyone who even touched me.

Audrey, a trumpet player, grabbed a handful of ice cream and grabbed my shirt at the same time. She smudged all of that ice cream into my hair and all over my shirt, the only one I had there. They then proceeded to throw me in the water because of my earlier retaliation. So here I stood, soaked to the bone, about 70 degrees outside, a crisp wind blowing from the north, no towel, and no ride home.

I was pissed, so, I took off my shirt (ironically enough, all my bras were in the wash, so I wore my bathing suit top) and wrung out my shirt, and left. I got on my bike and headed home. Of course, my friend, Mikey, followed me. We went back to my place and called him. We planned to all go out and do something, though we weren’t sure what.

When he showed up, we decided on bowling. I hadn’t been bowling since I was in 7th grade. I broke 79!

The best part…was after, when Mikey had left, him and I were sitting down outside and waiting for Darryl to pick us up. I shivered and one thing led to another…and I ended up sitting on his lap and his arms around me and kissing me.

Yes! I’m first to admit that it sounds terrible clique, but god, it was wonderful. All was right in the world. My bee stings on my back quit hurting for the first time all day, and the scars on my wrists seemed so stupid and pointless. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more at that distinct moment.

Everything was pure bliss. The feel of his fingers between mine, his scent, the taste of his tongue, the fact that I hear nothing in the world other than his voice.

I would rather be in his arms, than in the obituaries any day.