A relationship’s first kiss is always memorable. Particularly when teeth are involved.
When I was fourteen-years-old I left boarding school before the end of the year. I moved to East Hampton to finish my studies on my own and learn the centuries-old trade of haul seining with the Real Men who’d fished for generations.
An all-boys prep school, a hot blonde teacher, a 6-year-old me, and a platter of beets. A recipe for disaster.