Like last night in my car when we kissed and tasted some tongue. There was nicotine on his lips and it tasted sweet.

He told me I was sexy. I told him he was sexy as well. "Who would have known?" he shrugged.

But I knew. By the way he hooked his arm in mine. By the way he smoothed his hand on my chest.

And now by the way he was touching my face. "Perfect bone structure" he said as he fingered my jaw. "And I can see you're spotted."

I confessed my acne caused me grief.

But then he said the nicest thing a person's said about my face:

"They make you more attractive. They humble you."

And we kissed some more, caressed some more, and talked some more. I played with his mohawk, lifted his shirt, and prodded his belly. "Stop exploiting me!" he laughed.

After he left my car he stooped to stare in the window. He put his fingers to his lips and kissed.

And I drove off with all my swooning smiles, watching him in my rear view mirror.

*that's the best part about touching boys: their smell attaches to your clothes. And whenever you smell them you can't help but smile.