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I was nearly fourteen at the time and had studied English at my school in Riga. Not that I was smoothly fluent, mind you, but I could get by and I learned quickly. While I absorbed most of American English quickly after we arrived, like most newcomers, I sometimes struggled with idioms and slang. This is the story of how a linguistic misunderstanding led to my losing my virginity.Football (you call it soccer in this country) was second nature to me because I had been playing since I could run. I guess I was considered quite a find at the high school I attended. Soccer doesn't have the social clout that American football has but I was still looked upon as a legitimate 'jock' by my classmates. At fifteen, I was large for my age, six feet even and about a hundred seventy pounds. I often worked out in the weight room after school so, while I wasn't muscle-bound by any means, I looked very fit.During halftime of our first game of the season, I was lying on the grass soaking up the warm. I still thought perhaps somehow magically my presence would be undetectable until he called out, "Hey, A. Hey, krys. Oh you were bad, hunh? Looks like she was really bad, hunh?" to you. You helloed him back and then walked to my side and whispered, in a curious tone than a threatening one, "Did you forget your manners, pet?" I looked into your eyes, surprised that Marc seemed so unconcerned to find his buddy's girl in such a humiliating position. Tumblers fell into place as I realized that our "secret" was known to him. I didn't know what to do or say and you gazed into my eyes. "Marc said hello, honey. Don't you want to say hi to our friend, Marc?" I just nodded and looked over my shoulder to Marc. "Hi, Marc," I managed and looked back to you. You nodded and ran your hand down the back of my head and grasped the back of my neck. You walked over to him and shook his hand. "Come on," you told him and the two of you disappeared into the kitchen. I knew better than to move from my.
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