First Love

I was sixteen. He was thirty or whereabouts. The perfect Mills and Boon hero with a voice that did strange things to me everytime he talked. 

We played on the squash court. Every time skin touched his skin, felt it was like rubbing of flintstones, igniting a fire I couldn't control. Starry-eyed girl in love with her coach. 

He left one day without a word. And I cried my heart out. First love lost.