The Best Thing 1

By Elixir Soup

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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My name is Rosalina Lopez. I was born to Chavez Lopez and Maria Lopez in a small monestary outside Mexico City. In Mexico, obviously. I grew up speaking Spanish, but at an early age, my parents taught me fluent English. The reason soon became aparent to me. When I was just seven years old, we moved to the suburbs of Miami, Florida, where my father opened a local bar and my mom got work at a nearby college as an art professor.

This move was a bit traumatic for me. I was always a shy girl, raised with strict Catholic values and taught to be subservient to men. Now I was thrust into an entirely new country with all my friends back in Mexico. Though fluent in English, Spanish was still my first language, so I still had a bit of a whiney, Mexican twang. I wore glasses over my brown eyes, conservative dresses, and bows in my long, ebony hair. This all resulted in not having any friends...

Well... Except one...

It was a week after we started living in our new house, a two-story house in the suburbs of Miami. Most of our stuff was still packed in boxes out on the front lawn, so in addition to having no friends and being too shy and different to make any, I also had no toys. The only thing I had was a pogo ride and tire swing hanging from a tree, both on my front lawn, and both having come with the house. It was a hot, summer afternoon in July, when I sat on my tire swing, crying so hard that my glasses fogged up, that I met you.

"Hey."

It was a male voice I heard. A male voice I didn't recognize. English, a language I'd seldom heard in my seven years of life except from my own parents. And it was a little boy's voice.

I looked, but I couldn't see. My glasses were too wet with tears.

"You're the new kid, right? You just moved in? I'm your next door neighbor! I'm Arden. Please to meetcha!"

Arden... Even with the little knowledge I had of America, that seemed like an unusual name. I opened my mouth, but only a squeak came out. I was fluent in English, but had only ever spoken it to my parents. No need to speak it in Mexico. But you were patient. If you had any reaction to my pathetic excuse for a first attempt at introducing myself, you didn't voice it, and I certainly didn't see it through the tear stains on my glasses.

"Um... I-I'm Rosalina." I told you in the tiniest of voices, wincing as my Mexican accent, though slight, became apparent to someone other than my parents.

"Roze-uh-leen-uh? That's a bit long and hard to say, isn't it? I'll call you Rosie."

Rosie... Should I be offended at the Americanization of my vaguely Hispanic name? Heh! Even if I should've been, I wasn't... Because it was the first nickname anyone had ever given me. And though I had no idea at the time... from then on... You'd be the only one to ever call me it.

"Where are you from, Rosie?"

Still not seeing you, and unsure of where you were, I answered only to the sound of your voice.

"Um... Mexico."

"Where in Mexico, Rosie?"

I blushed, hearing my new nickname. But your inquiry struck me as odd... You sounded my age. When a seven year old says to another seven year old, especially an American, that she's from Mexico, wouldn't he just leave it at that? Or, at worst, ask what a Mexico was?

"Um... A monastery just outside Mexico City..." I clarified in the tiniest of voices. But then again, all my voices were the tiniest of voices.

"Cool! I grew up in California most of my life. My family used to live in a resort out in the desert there, but we moved here to take care of my Gran-Gran. This is her house, actually. But I'm used to vacationing here every summer. It's just gonna be permanent this time."

You used such big words for a seven year old... Some I woudn't have recognized if my mother and father's English education hadn't been so extensive and at such an early age. But... resort out in the desert... Those words stuck out to me. Were your family Native Americans? I decided I needed to clean my glasses and take a look at you.

I reached for my glasses, but before my hands reached them, they left the bridge of my nose.

"Man, these things are dirty and wet. Were you crying? Here, let me clean them for you."

This... was such a gesture of tenderness that I'd only ever received from my abuela, grandmother... She died just before my move, thus unable to make the trip with us... But I still coudn't see you, my vision was so bad without my corrective lenses. But I saw what looked like a dark complexion and a head of sun-bleached blonde hair. My glasses were returned to my nose with the care of an artisan handling a glass ballerina figurine, and I saw you for the first time.

Big, blue eyes that seemed as vast and deep as the sky... A mop top of soft, cornflower tresses that were, indeed, sun-bleached blonde... You definitely seemed white, but so tanned from the sun... Tanned... all over... Oh... Oh my...

You were... C-Completely naked. Not even shoes or socks. You had a teddy bear backpack that had many patches and dirt spots on it, but you held it in your hands, and were returning a handkerchief to it, likely what you used to clean my glasses. But... my eyes zeroed in on something I'd never seen before in my life, and in a way, I suppose my eyes never did leave it, even all these years later... It was my first time seeing a boy's... thing. Though I had nothing to compare it to, the sight was completely alien to me. And... I suppose I was always drawn to foreign and unusual sights. And alien is, by definition, foreign and unusual.

"You okay?"

Okay? Hah! Of course I wasn't... Here I was, a shy, hispanic seven year old raised with strong Catholic values seeing a boy my own age's... thingie. I was speechless. Utterly speechless. I wanted with all my might to yell 'you're naked! Why are you naked,' though at that point I probably would have used a more child-friendly term, like 'nakey.' But being so shy... I was really just speechless. Your tenderness with my glasses, your friendliness to a child so different from you, your beautiful eyes, luxurious hair, tanned skin, your nudity... was this typical of America, just Miami, or just you? At the time, I was noticing things about your body that only a girl who was into boys would notice, and at that tender young age, I certainly wasn't into anyone or anyting. As you shuffled your feet, the little appendage waggled back and forth like a wind sock. I recall finding the movements hypnotic at the time and I'm sure my face was completely scarlett staring at it.

"Hello? Earth to Rosie?"

Earth... Hah! At that point, I was wondering if I truly was on Earth, or if you were truly an Earthling. That's right, you had to be an alien. Just like in all those science fiction stories I loved so much at the time. It was only when you spoke again, though I didn't hear what you said, that I realized I had been staring at your... thing... the entire time. With admitted and bizarre difficulty, as well as a blush that must have been neon, I brought my gaze away from your groin and back up to your eyes. Your... vast, sky-blue eyes.

"Since we're neighbors, how about we be friends, Rosie? My papa brings a lot of candy and toys from work, and I'd be happy to share them with you, but only you. We can be a two-person club, no grown-ups allowed!"

Or clothes, I worried in my head at the time. I wasn't sure if nudity was a normal thing for you, but I certainly didn't plan on joining in with you, though I realize now I was naive and in denail. But your smile... So infectious. For the first time since arriving in America, or perhaps one of the few times since my infancy... I felt a small smile come to my lips.

You gestured with a flick of your head to the pogo ride next to the tire swing I sat upon. Funny how a movement of the neck can cause a flaccid boyhood to bounce.

"That kitty thingy on a spring yours, or can I use it?"

Unable to find words to counteract your openness, I merely nodded, but immediately regretted it, as my eyes only locked upon your... thing... yet again. Luckily, you cut the inspection short by running and jumping onto my pogo ride, though I was presented with a very unique view of anatomy in motion that made my face go hotter that the July noon sun hanging overhead. Your penis seemed to sail through the air as you hopped onto my pogo ride. As you settled in, leaning atop it on your stomach, I was treated to your penis cast to the side in full view of me, giving odd little twitching motions whenever you shifted the muscles in your lower body. Looking back, it's amazing how unintentional it was.

"So, Rosie, tell me aaaaalll about Mexico City! My papa's been there plenty of times, but I've never been! Please, tell me all about it!"

So, for the first time in possibly my entire quiet seven years of life... I talked. And I talked for hours. Every time the conversation started to hit a dead end, you asked a question that spurred me on. It was like you were a bright star that I needed to use words to build a bridge to reach, and I would do anything to reach this star...

And I guess... A star is what you always were, and still are... My star. One I've always tried to reach, but never been able to...

That was the day I met you, Arden. Little did I know you would be my best friend for my entire life. Through much hardship, we would eventually date... eventually engage... and then... well... You know the rest.

But... I think... I should tell it to you anyway. After all...

You were the best thing that ever happened to me.

(End of File)