Every girl dreams of her first kiss. It's a glorious fantasy. It's supposed to be wonderful.

I always imagined him pulling me tightly into his arms and staring deeply into my eyes with that "I can't live without you" soap-opera gaze. His hand would find the small of my back and the other would trail down my jaw and lift my chin. And then ... magic. Bliss. Perfection.

That was how it would be. That's what I told myself. It would be flawless and we would live happily ever after.

But it wasn't flawless. And the eternal happiness never started. Oh, he was perfect enough. Handsome and funny, he fit my vision nicely. I wanted him to kiss me. That was never a question. And he seemed to be just fine with that idea, so it seemed a perfect situation when I found myself in a room alone with him.

I remember how angelic he looked. The only light was coming from a door around the corner. He was standing there dressed all in white, and the light seemed to radiate from him slightly. He looked at me in a way I'd never seen before. Was it possession? Determination? Maybe a mixture of both. Whatever it was, I felt a twinge of alarm.

Don't be stupid, I chided myself. This is what you've wanted for so long.

He floated to me, looking me over with a hint of pride in his grin. Something was off. Still, I scolded myself for such thoughts.

My senses came alive. He looked so good. Smelled so good. Felt even better. His hand was on my waist. His other in my hair.

This is it! my heart screamed, kicking my mind's protests away.

Everything turned to slow motion. He moved closer and closer. I stopped breathing, but I could feel his soft exhale on my lips. And then it happened. I had been kissed! My heart did a victory dance. The taste of his lips was so new. So sweet.

And then it wasn't sweet anymore. The taste of reality flooded in to replace it and then flowed through my entire body, reaching greedily for the tips of everything that was me. My insides hit the panic button and tensed as his hand fumbled along my waistline. What was he doing? This was all wrong. He was supposed to kiss me. It was supposed to be sweet and wonderful and - and it was supposed to stop! Just a kiss! He was taking something I wasn't offering!

I pulled back forcefully, staring at him in alarm. Didn't he know this wasn't the way things were done? How could he think he could take whatever he wanted? This was my first kiss! It was supposed to be special!

Part of me had the urge to slap him, but he had my hands and could easily overpower me. Oh, how could I have been so naive? So trusting.

"No," I managed to gasp. It was the only word I could form.

I moved stiffly, unsure of how to use my legs. He made an attempt to call me back. He tried to reassure me. But it was too late. My beautiful moment was over ... and it was ruined.

I walked out of the room hastily and around the corner, where I sank down the wall to the cold, hard floor. My first kiss wasn't a sweet fantasy like it was supposed to be. It was a harsh reality slap.

And I cried. I cried for losing him as one of my truest friends. I cried for being so stupid. And mostly, I cried for the innocence I had lost in that moment when time stood still like in the movies. My first kiss.