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  • Our first date was in the Summer, and it wasn't even a date. He never quite worked up the nerve to ask me to go to the concert, instead he announced on Facebook that he was going solo, and I took the bait. I'll never be sorry that I did.

    We met at the Egyptian Theatre, I paid for my own ticket, and bought myself a glass of wine that I'd never heard of, only to find out that he would have recommended against it. We made fun of the opening band, slipping easily into a comfortable familiarity; we were both cynical and narcissistic. Then the New Pornographers came on stage. The band played loud and the lights were low, he put his hand on my knee and I put my head on his shoulder. (It wasn't the first time his hand was on my knee, the first time was also the first time we'd met, drunken and awkward, at my parents' house.) After the show we loaded his bicycle into the trunk of my car and I drove him home. We didn't even kiss, because it wasn't a real date, I guess.

    I made up a reason to visit the department store where he sold wine. We talked about varietals and he invited me over to share some bottles he'd been meaning to open. I went to his apartment, trying to look casual in my denim shorts and sleeveless top, trying to look beautiful. Many bottles of wine (and one of champagne) later I made the first move. I kissed him, as I'd been longing to do for what felt like eternity, but was probably only a few days. The kiss didn't end there in the kitchen. It didn't end on the floor in his hallway. Didn't end in his bedroom. Long and soft and begging for more, the kiss that didn't end until the next morning. It didn't seem so important that we slept together first time we were alone, because when we woke up he didn't want me to go. He was where I wanted to be.

    He was my brother's friend, still is (even after what I've done). Later that week my brother invited me to a wine dinner, I accepted, knowing it would be a chance to see Jack in public. My brother didn't know about us yet, nobody did. It's taboo to date a family friend, and I'd always adhered to that, until now.

    This picture was taken that night. After plenty of rich food and expensive wine, it didn't matter what my brother thought, what my parents thought. Nothing else mattered as long as we were together. We fell into fast, easy love. Mad, sticky, Summer love.

    There we stayed until the following Spring.
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