Summer love, con't 7 - Spring '77

Pete kissed me. "I never kissed a lady before," he said.

"Me, neither." Giggle.

He kissed me again. I giggled more. Sixteen, ah, sweet giggly sixteen.

I'm not sure I was his first kiss, but certainly a kiss he meant.

"I want to go out with you every week, Rachel."

"Really? O-okay." Gulp, smile, giggle. Swoon.

The entire drive home, he held my hand and I saw stars.

But the next week, a kink forms in our love line. See, before Pete got up the nerve to ask me out, another guy asked me to his prom. I said yes.

Diary entry April 27, '77
"Mike called to outline his rules and ideas for the prom. Not only do I have to be with him physically, but mentally. Oh, I feel awful. I have to hold his hand. What if he tries to kiss me. Oo, yuck. I'm going to talk to him and tell him how I feel."

Certainly he knew. His brother was Pete's best friend. But what did it matter? I had Pete and we were going out again this Saturday. The prom was over a week away. Certainly something would work out.

Still, only seeing and talking to Pete on Saturdays. By the time we are out of work, and I go home and change, we don't go out until 8 or 8:30.

This Saturday he was picking me up at 8:30, but 8:35, he's not there. 8:40, no Pete. By 8:45, I feel sick. He's not coming. He stood me up. I just know it.

Then the phone rings. I jump to answer it. Please, please, please. Sure enough. It's him.

"I got tied up. I'll be a few more minutes."

Oh, Jesus, thank you.

When he arrived, he came in and greeted my parents and their friends, told me I looked nice in front of them.

On the way out to the car, he whispered, "My first lady is a classy lady."

Sigh with delight. We went to Black Angus again for dinner. As we were walking inside, he pulled me aside. "I love you. Do you love me?'

"You bet."

He flashes his white smile. His brown eyes snapped.