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It was my freshman year and his senior year in junior college. Jealous and agitated by the fact, I was unable to turn the channel of the sickening couple that disrespectfully made out across from me, i left the student lounge and went outside to get a breath of fresh air. There he was, chatting with my friend, Chris. I made an effort to go over and advertise my good looks. "This is Sharon", Chris replied. "Hi, I'm Allen". He was gorgeous! At that moment, I wanted to rip his green corduroy jacket off, and just kiss him until our lungs grew tired. Sort of like, holding your breath under water and coming up when you cant hold it any longer. That day was the succession of a weak heart. Everyday, in between classes we would meet in the lounge and talk. Sometimes we were so indulged in conversation, that we would miss our classes. The day came, when he finally offered, "Let me give you my number, Miss. Thing". My heart melted at the fact, that we were so connected, he felt the need to give me nicknames, so I thought. I had allowed myself to become so consumed by infatuation, that I began to put school in the background. It was days that he would be in class, but I would just sit in the student lounge and wait and/or expect for him to come and do the same. And after school, I would call him and ask him why he didn't meet me in the lounge. My weakness was beginning to define misrepresented beauty, inside and out! That night, he came to my house to study. We talked for several hours and got to know each other. After hours of unchaperoned time, a physical connection brewed. We had our first kiss (not just a peak). I thought I was in love! It was so intense, that my desires were deodorized with sin. When we realized that things were getting a little heated, we took a time out and talked so more. I think, a little too much, on my part because after that night, things were not the same. My dwindling lack of interest in school and increasing interest in him, had turned him off! The ditched classes, phone calls, and kisses, no longer regulated the pulses of life. I had realized that I was infatuated with being loved.

Learn more about this author, Janay Walker.
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