I didn't know what to think when Aunt Dina called Hubby over from the dance floor and introduced me; his face was far too red and he looked too young to be 21. He was however, extremely good looking and the goofy look on his face made him that much more appealing to my teenage hormones. He kind of eyeballed me for a moment and then gave me crap about not dancing - all the while giving his mom the same grief. He then asked us if we were ready to leave so he could make our "special purchase."

I know I turned as red as he looked when we left and I felt as though everyone was staring at us because we were about to do something wrong. When Hubby went in to buy the liquor, I hid in the backseat because my glowing face and waves of anxiety were emanating from the car. I don't even remember what he bought that night; I was honestly too embarrassed with the whole situation to remember those particulars.

When we got back to their house, Hubby decided to stick around and partake amongst the festivities. A couple more friends showed up and I soon found myself at my first high school party. Hubby volunteered to make all my drinks which I thought was so nice of him. I didn't know any better and wouldn't have known how to mix a drink to save my life.

When he brought me my first drink, I was apprehensive to even take a sip. Aunt Dina egged me on and I took a drink - discovering that it tasted like waterered down orange juice. I was relieved that I could swig it down quite easily and thought to myself that this drinking thing wasn't nearly half as bad as I thought it would be. I later learned that Hubby had been bogarting the liquor had had been pouring me straight orange juice and water drinks. He served the booze to his friends that showed up rather than to me or Aunt Dina. A gentleman? I think not.

The night progressed and people slowly started to leave once the liquor was gone. I prided myself as being a responsible drinker - or having an insanely high tolerance for alcohol as I never once felt like I was the least bit intoxicated. Hubby just laughed as he was clearly showing the effects of the hooch he had secretly sequestered away from my innocent lips.

At about midnight, Aunt Dina and another friend took to the livingroom and were talking. Hubby invited me out to his room to say goodnight and being the friendly gal I am, I happily obliged him. After all, it was just proper to say goodnight to the gentleman I thought he was and to thank him for pouring me all those "great" drinks (without the added bonus of getting pukey drunk). Remember, I was a good girl but wore a mean pair of cowboy boots should he decide to get too frisky or fresh - but I don't think I was even thinking about using them - not even for a second.

When we got to his room, we talked, and talked, and talked a bit more - four hours worth. We talked about our families, friends, hobbies, politics, and pretty much anything else that came up during our conversation. We discovered that we actually had a lot of things in common and felt the same way in many different areas. Our families were very similar and our personalities, although very different, meshed perfectly. I calmed him down and he brought me up - it was a very happy medium. Over a four hour period, I felt as though I had known him for a lifetime.

About three hours into our talk, I had decided it was time to go to bed. As I stood up to leave, Hubby looked at me and asked me if I would give him the dance I wouldn't do at the wedding. I laughed at him but the thought of getting closer to him, perhaps in a slow dance, was far to appetizing as of this point. We had made absolutely no physical contact yet, but the mental connection we had made was incredible. I told him that I'd give him a slow dance but that was it. I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with the compromise.

I hate dancing, but that night, it was the best and most perfect dance I could have asked for. I laugh about this now, but I knew I loved him from the moment I saw him and this dance just solidified my feelings. I don't know how many times Duran Duran played in the background (Simon LeBon is God) but by the time we were done with the dance I had memorized all the words to "Ordinary World." I didn't want to let me go and I think the feeling was pretty mutual.

I knew in the back of my mind that I couldn't get attached (to him) because I was leaving for college at the end of the summer. I was going to be living eight hours a way - I couldn't fall for a guy that I'd never see. College would have a plethora of different men (and boys!) to choose from but the one I was holding in my arms just seemed to be the right fit. How could I even think to leave that? And after one night - I might be wiling to risk my education and future career? It seemed to be worth it at the time.

When the dance was finally over, I knew it was time to go to bed. I was tired but extremely giddy from the night I now deem as one of my best and most memorable teenage moments. Hubby agreed that it was time to call it a night and asked me one last question:

"Can I have a goodnight kiss before you go?"

To be continued...