at the age of 8, M teaches me to kiss. we lie in her bed with her gentle grip on my hips and she leans up to peck my lips.

the kisses escalate and she names each off.

"this is a french kiss." M says.

her tongue invades my mouth and it's cold and has its own distinct taste. she grabs my tongue between her lips and i don't like it. but i don't tell her. she smiles at me and i smile back.

when i visit her house, my sister watches movies in the living room with her sister. me and M play video games in her dad's room. she "plays" with me under the covers while i try desperately to beat her in a Need For Speed race.

i distinctly remember Lil Jon playing on the game's menu while i pick out my car. i distinctly remember our sisters watch Jackass 3, sending me away with her because the movie was "not for kids."

that wasn't a problem. i was just a kid, after all. but M kissed me, and i thought i new love.