I knew I could goback as a boy; but did I want to? I wasn't sure. Or I could go further asa girl; but could I? I thought about that until my head ached.For a long time I just moped around the house. "Honey, why don't you trysetting your hair? It's looking really limp, you know." I knew she wasright. All I can say is that I tried. I remembered all Mom told me, atleast I think so, but I just couldn't roll my hair very well. It had beenweeks, months, since Mom first set my hair and I was surprised at howlong it had grown. Sure the top was fairly easy, but how was a guy, agirl, to see in back of her head? With aching arms I put the last rollerin place. Looking into a hand mirror I could see that it was a wreck:loose hair, dangling rollers, and twisted rows. Just walking to Mom'sside, caused two rollers to fall out. Mom laughed and called me "droopycurls". "Come here, DroopyCurls," she said and started to re-roll and re-pin some rollers. "Don'ttry to roll so wide a strand of hair and use. I watched as Owen eased off his shoes and nudged them aside. He turned to face me, his dark eyes following my movements as I wandered toward him. I came to a stop before him, my toes sinking into the carpet and my stomach fluttering with excitement. “Nervous?” he asked. I felt more at ease around him now than I ever had before. My mouth curved in a slight smile and I shook my head. “Not anymore.” He stepped in close and cupped my face in his palms, dipping his head to touch his lips to mine. I sighed and clasped his wrists, holding onto him as I kissed him back. Every time he stood near me my senses heightened and my heart pounded. I flicked my tongue over his and pressed myself to him, wanting to be as close to him as possible. He groaned and moved one hand to my lower back, pulling me so tight against his body that only our clothing separated us. His palm slid over my hip, slipping down to caress the curve of my bottom. I moaned and let go of his wrists, sweeping my tongue.
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