As he handed my phone back to me I felt my heart skip a beat...or two. His presence beside me was overwhelmingly apparent as he studied my profile. I read my little phones screen, and then read it again. Did it really say that? I felt my breath quicken, and looked up at him, his beautiful chocolate eyes gazing down at me, pleading me to say yes. "Can I?" he asked in his husky voice, sending shivers down my spine. I grinned and leaned up towards him, his lips meeting mine. My first kiss. I couldn't believe it, he pulled my head closer and I snuggled up to him, our lips fitting together seamlessly. It felt so...right. I broke the kiss after a couple of minutes, his forehead resting against mine, "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice begging me to tell him that yes, it was alright. Instead of responding I kissed him again, a short, sweet kiss. "You know what Erin?" he asked, his hot breath against my cheek, making me at a loss for words, "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." My smile explained the words I could not utter, and leaned against his shoulder, my focus not on the movie but on how close his body was, how natural it felt to have his hand intertwined in mine, black and white, white and black.
His attention on the movie, absently rubbing my hand I let my attention wander.
Seventh grade. Thirteen years old. Middle school, full of drama and tears, preps and nerds. I was in the midst of it all, happy with my group of friends. Not popular, nor the nerds. Happy to roll with the punches, I considered myself strong, able to take anything that life should throw at me. I was no stranger to boyfriends, but nothing like this year had to bring for me. I was not ready for breaking up, and making up, nor the constant inquiries about my personal life. I was completely unprepared for having every single thought occupied by "him". But ready or not, I dived right in.

I had known Mick(changed his name) since Sixth grade, he had intimidated me back then, being a good six inches taller than my five foot five, and being black. He was in some of my classes, and we soon devolped a kind of hate relationship. Did we really hate each other? No. But it was fun to say that we did, an excuse to flirt, something I excelled at. I soon realized I was devoloping a kind of crush on him, and whenever he would ask about me to my best friend, I could feel my heart skip a beat. So when he finally asked me out, needless to say I was ecstatic. He wasn't on my team, but whenever we had passing periods we were constantly together. I loved how much bigger he was then me, how deep his voice was, his hugs, the way he smelled, but mostly, just him.

I know what you're thinking, theres no way I could've loved him. But I don't care what anyone says. I loved him. I loved him a lot. The first time he broke up with me, I was devastated. I couldn't stop thinking about what I could of possibly done wrong in the little time we had been going out. But sure enough, he asked me out again. We doubled our record of going out, to two weeks before I broke up with him. So on it went. Becoming a sort of twisted game. He broke up with me, went out with someone else, asked me back out. Then I would do the same to him.

One of my friends mom was incredibly racist, she didn't try to be, but I honestly don't think she could help it. I told her who my boyfriend was, and she instantly began lecturing me, she said that I, as a white girl should not be dating a poor black guy. I soon realized that a lot of people in my school felt that way. I was shocked. Why should skin color matter? I paid no attention to her warnings that he would hurt me, that I should end things with him, then and there. I just rolled my eyes and changed the subject. But the thought was still in the back of my mind.

Three months into our relationship we had broken up five times, and I was determined not to go back out with him, he had hurt me and I didnt want to admit that my friends' mom had been right. Valentines day passed, and I was still single when Mick asked how he could possibly prove how much he loved me. I just shook my head and walked away, it took all of my strength to do that, and I instantly regretted it. Later that day he called me and asked if I was going to the movies, I cringed and said yes, wondering how he had found out about the plans me and my friend had made. I knew I couldn't resist him. So when sam(changed name) and I finally made it to the movies, I was suprised not to see him right away. A mixture of relief and disappointment swept through me as I walked to the line waiting to see the movie, and bam, there he was at the front of the line. When a couple of my friends and me walked into the theater and took the seats in front of him, he begged me to sit next to him. My best friend forced me to go, tired of me whining about how much I liked him. His friends would not stop bugging me to go out with him, and they kept telling me he was going to make "the move" I was instantly glad when the movie started. A couple of minutes into the movie I found myself staring at his dark skin wrapped around my pale hand, and me leaning into him. He was my addiction, an addiction I couldn't get rid of. "Can I see you phone...?" I heard him ask, I took it out and curiously watched him type something on it.
Can I kiss you...? It read.

We never did go out after that kiss, I didn't want to get hurt again, done with all of the breaking up, I wanted to be single, it was much easier. A year later we no longer talk, but when we walk by each other in the hall the silence between us is no longer awkward, it just is. I know he will always be in my heart, I will carry a piece of him around forever, he has taught me how to love and be loved, taught me to be blind to color, but most importantly. He taught me that a relationship should not be painful, it should not make your heart hurt, but make your heart smile. And if the relationship doesn't, it shouldn't be at all. I do not regret dating Mick, yet I thank him for helping me build up a shield against guys that hurt me. So. Thank you Mick, and Mick? I forgive you.