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When Cynthia was forced to join the thespians in the fall of her junior year, to say she was less than thrilled was an understatement. But there was one silver lining to the experience, one thing - one person that keep her engaged. And it wasn’t Floyd, or Arthur, or even that knucklehead Buddy. No, the person to keep her engaged was a particular senior that loved theatre almost as much as she loved her dumb beret collection.
When Cynthia first met Lydia, her first impression was that the thespian was cold, stuck up, and frankly a little rude. But she admired Lydia. And was because of that admiration that she gave the girl a chance, and by the end of their fall play, the two were inseparable.
So, just like tonight, it was not uncommon to find the girls in Cynthia’s living while her dad was out, running lines for their latest theatre assignment and talking over ham and cheese sandwiches.
“Y’know,” Cynthia began, swallowing part of her sandwich before continuing. “I wonder what it would be like to do a more romantic scene for an assignment. I’m kinda curious what’s it’d be like to be all mushy with someone like that.”
“Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Why are you wondering anyway? Someone caught your eye?” Lydia responded with a nudge. What the older girl was not aware of however, was that Cynthia was keen on someone, someone that she had spent nearly every afternoon with for last three months, someone who would surly never like her back.
“A little. I’m just scared to ask.”
Not a complete lie.
“Why not? The worst he can say is no.”
She didn’t even know the half of it.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m just scared that he has more than experience than me. I admire him a lot.” Cynthia cringed at the use of pronoun. “I’ve never even kissed anyone.”
“I could show you.” Lydia replied, seemingly oblivious to the flurry of butterflies that erupted in Cynthia’s stomach at those four words.
“You mean like here? Now?”
“The sooner you get something over with the less of a deal it becomes in your mind.”
Cynthia set down her sandwich. “Yeah. Sure, okay.” Lydia mirrored her, before turning to face Cynthia, scooting ever so slightly closer.
“Lesson 1. Be clear you want to kiss him. Like this,” Lydia said, lifting her thumb and pointer finger to Cynthias chin, tilting it upwards. “Then, lesson 2: kiss him.”
She leaned in. Cynthia was still in shock, it took all of her awareness to even close her eyes when Lydia’s lips met hers.
Lydia pulled away after a moment. “Lesson 3: use your hands.” She said, bringing the hand that was on Cynthia’s chin to cup her face, while her free hand cradled the smaller girls waste.
That was when Cynthia’s memory grew fuzzy. The rest of the night was a blur of lips and hands.
But really, if this was as close as Cynthia would ever come to kissing Lydia, and it very well could be, she had to hold on as tight as possible, even if that hold was weak at best.
***
The rest of that night, and the many practice sessions thereafter, were spent largely the same way; with the girls taking turns ‘seducing’ each other. They would come up with a prompt to start, one girl would play the fawning boy, and the other would talk her into a kiss. And that’s how they always ended up; with lots of kissing.
Oftentimes, Lydia would call Cynthia by the name of whichever boy she fancied at the time. (However, Cynthia didn’t exactly pay attention to whose name it was.) And really, did it matter.
***
Weeks passed by, months even. And In time the seasons turned warmer. June. Graduation.
It was that last week of school when Cynthia walked into the theatre to a waiting Lydia. She sat on the lip of the stage, holding a small blue box. Cynthia wandered towards her.
“What is that?” She questioned. She only kind of wanted Lydia to answer.
“A gift, since I’m graduating soon.” Lydia opened the box, revealing a silver bracelet with a matching letter L charm. Cynthia preened at it, picking it up with deft hands. Lydia set down the box, and reached out to help Cynthia with the clasp.
“Thank you,” Cynthia muttered. “I’ll uh, miss you. Next year.”
Lydia only gave a curt nod, then, with one swift movement, leaned in to press a small kiss to her lips. This time there was no pretense. No flirting or imaginary scenario. This was real.
Lydia made her exit, stage left.
***
Cynthia stood here, in front of Rydells doors, way more terrified than she was a year ago. She had lost one of the most important people to her. And of course she still had the Pink Ladies and the T-birds, but there was still a big, beret shaped hole in her heart. She ached.
Cynthia fiddled with the charm on her bracelet. Lydia had moved away over the summer. Now she was at some fancy arts school in New York, living her dream.
She thought back to that day. In the theater, with the bracelet. She thought about the kiss. She wondered if Lydia was kissing anyone now. And she wondered if she still counted as the first.
Cynthia made her entrance, center stage.