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the desire that burned in my stomach took over any rational decisions.
    One more dance, just one more, I told myself. The song was "Get Down" - some upbeat rap song that I didn't care for. Ah, what the hell. It wasn't a slow dance, so it would be alright.
    "I hate dancing," I yelled over the thumping bass. "I'm no good at it!"
    "Naw, you'll be fine," Elijah yelled back.
    I took his hand, and we stepped onto the wooden plank dance floor, keeping a foot of distance between each other as we swayed to the hip hop lingo.
    "Rochelle, you--"
    Before he could finish his sentence, the DJ blared: "Here's the throw back from the 90's, an oldie but a goodie!"
    And "I'll Be" started playing.
    A song from high school, the first time my heart was broken.
    I remembered it so well...

Chapter Six
    James had been the star basketball player of the school. Parents loved him, cheerleaders stalked him, and coaches worshiped the ground he walked on.But what a lot of people didn't know was James sat beside me every Sunday in church, helped out at the soup kitchen with me on Saturdays before practice, and volunteered at the food bank on Monday nights.
    But high school is a place where fears are realized, and insecurities are extenuated. Being overweight in high school made it near torture; I had only survived with careful avoidance of the popular crowd, and clinging to my small group of friends. I'd rather die than to ever tell him I thought he was cute; mind you, not that such a boy as the almighty James Werther would have looked twice at someone like me.
    We were strangers on the weekdays, inseparable on the weekends.
    I convinced my friend Rachel to go to one of James' games with me, and we sat in the second row of bleachers. I hated those seats; so designed for a skinnier butt than mine. To my surprise, James, who was on the team's bench 2 rows in front of us, turned and waved. Even more shocking, he blew me a little kiss.
    I was pretty shocked, but a little elated. Could it be? Did James... like me? My teenage brain flew in a flurry of directions, aided by an absurd amount of hormones.
    I squirmed in my seat and nudged Rachel. "Did you see that?" I whispered.
    Rachel blushed. "Sure, I did," was all she said.
    After an overtime game where James pulled the winning 3 pointer, he wrapped a towel around his neck and bounded up the rows to wear we stood, getting ready to leave. He invited me to meet him after the game, and I told Rachel to head out without me.
    I had found my way to Mr. Year's classroom easily enough. The science class was dark and deserted, the door oddly unlocked. I let myself in, spooked by the shapes of test tubes and stations in the dark classroom. Feeling a little rebellious, I hoisted myself onto the desk – no easy task! I covered my giggle. If only Mr. Year could see me. Wait, no, that would be bad.
    I tried to cross my legs – that's what all the sexy women in the movies did – but my thick thighs wouldn't allow it. I settled for crossed ankles instead. I wished I had a skirt on to hike over my knees instead of my navy blue corduroys, but I would just have to deal.
    A few moments later, James entered the classroom, closing the door slowly, softly behind him. He crossed the distance between the door and the desk in 2 steps, and pressed his lips to mine. It was my first kiss – embarrassing to be 16 and never kissed, but boy didn't like the bigger girls – and I still remember the details today. It was messy and passionate, fierce and soft. It was everything I had imagined, and more. His tongue pried open my lips, dancing with mine in a sweet embrace.
    He pushed me down on the desk and kissed me again, down my neck, the collar of my shirt, and behind my ear. His hand snaked up my shirt, under my bra, and touched my large firm nipples, his hands so gentle, so passionate.
    My fingers fumbled with his shirt, and I pulled my lips away to come up for air as he slipped it over his head. I ran my hand through his brown hair, and