The San Francisco Exploratorium was a beauty that night in 2006, dimly lit by an open exhibit on the solar system. Neon lights streaked across the vaulted ceilings at Michelle Moore's bat mitzvah while the sweet melodies of Blink-182 blasted from the DJ booth. I wore a dress with a sweetheart neckline and had even shaved the carpet on my legs in preparation for my first kiss. Liam Wood, the love of my life, looked hot, as always. Game on.
Fast song after fast song played all night. When will this end? I thought. No elegant first kiss could happen to the lyrics of "Booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere." Finally, the smooth melody of "I Swear," by All-4-One began playing. Liam looked at me just as I dared to look at him, and we merged on the dance floor.
Liam, a good head taller than me, didn't stop looking down at me for the entirety of that slow song. I was intoxicated by the smell of his Old Spice, so it took me a moment to come to and notice where his eyes were locked—my cleavage. I found out later that he had been dared to dance with me for the sole purpose of getting just such a look. My boobs had, once again, ruined my life. |
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