Truth Or Dare
When I was thirteen years old, I found myself with my first really serious crush on a boy. As far as I was concerned, this boy - Kevin - was the best thing since sliced bread. And just as I came to this realization, Kevin and his family moved halfway across the country.
We kept in touch, via letters and phone calls. My parents often found themselves paying significant phone bills because Kevin and I spent an entire night or two on the telephone. In the summers, Kevin would come back to our hometown to visit. He'd spend a week or two at my house, a week or two at another friend's house, and so on and so forth. I always loved when it was time for Kevin to be back in town.
Years passed, as they do, I turned fourteen, then fifteen, and sixteen. And still, the highlight of my entire year was when Kevin would be back in town. My first crush slowly became my first love. Being the girl that I am (or was), of course I never told him. One night, during the time when Kevin was staying at my house, we had a bunch of friends over... eventually we found ourselves wondering what we should do to occupy ourselves, and of course, someone just had to suggest good ol' Truth or Dare.
I'll admit that I'm a wuss, and that I will almost always choose Truth rather than Dare. My friends knew me too well, though, and there was always a "two truths in a row max" rule in place. Eventually I had no option, and I had to choose dare. My then best friend was the one to ask me, and before she even said a word, I got a knot in the pit of my stomach. The look on her face was purely terrifying to me. "Ok, I dare you to kiss ... Kevin!"
My heart stopped. I may have wanted nothing more than to kiss Kevin, but I certainly didn't want to do it as a dare. I wanted it to be a choice - and specifically his choice. Initially, I protested. "No way. I'm not kissing anyone in front of a room full of people." I admit I was just a little bit of a prissy girl as a teenager. It just wasn't happening. "Fine," they said. "You can go to your room, but we'll know if you lie about it." I remember Kevin standing up and saying "Alright, c'mon, let's go" and dragging me out of the living room.
To my room we went. We sat down on the edge of my bed, and laughed. Kevin said "You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Oh, but I did want to... just not under those circumstances. I reminded him that I was a terrible liar. He offered to be the one to answer the others when we were questioned. I told them that they'd see straight through that, of course, and he admitted I was right. And so... we kissed. And I heard my heart thumping in my chest, and I loved every second of it, except for that one little detail. That one major detail.
We finished, and stood up to go back out to the living room. Sure enough, when we got back out to the living room, our friends made sure to question me, specifically. I told them that we had... and then promptly burst into tears and made for the front door.
Outside, I sat on the hood of my parents car and sobbed. I wasn't alone for very long. The friend who had given me the dare came out first. She explained that she knew that I was crazy about him, that everyone knew that I was crazy about him, and that she was honestly just trying to help. I told her in no uncertain terms that it most definitely had not helped. I sobbed some more.
Eventually, Kevin came outside to talk to me. Years later, he told me that he had been under the impression that I was terrified that this incident was going to ruin our friendship. I'm not sure how he wound up under that impression, but I suspect that other friends in the group were doing their best to handle "damage control" for me. Kevin sat down on the hood of the car next to me, put his arm around me, and said...
"Don't worry. It was just a game. It doesn't mean a thing."
That was the whole problem.