Twelve minutes. Why am I so nervous? Of course, I was nervous then, too…

I joined the line at the Dickson Dining Hall with the other high school students taking special summer courses at Cornell, and stood behind a cute blonde girl. Deciding that I wouldn’t be the shy nobody I was in high school, I said “Hi!”

She turned and broke into a smile. “Hi yourself! So, what are you in for?”

“Special relativity and quantum mechanics,” I replied. “You?”

 “Marine biology. I’m planning on becoming an oceanographer.”

“Really? I met Jacques Cousteau once.”

Her face lit up, “Get out! You did not!”

I nodded, “Yup, at his institute in Monaco. He’s a tall, very gaunt, but very courtly gentleman.”

She eyed me as if I were making it up. “How…how did you do that?”

“My father’s the associate director of Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute. We were on vacation on the Continent, so he decided to stop in and visit.”

“You’re serious…” she began, then flowed closer and put her arm in mine. “So, your Dad’s the associate director of Woods Hole?” She looked up at me, batting her eyelashes. “Maybe you could put in a good word for me?”

That’s how it began. We sat together at dinner, chatting away, and only left when the staff pointedly started clearing our plates. Her hand seemed to naturally find mine as we left the dorm.

We strolled the paths around the enormous campus aimlessly, not really caring. Eventually, we sat on a low stone wall and continued talking. Both of us were chatterboxes, which was unusual for me – but not for her.

It took me some time before I realized she had stopped talking and was merely sitting, smiling and waiting.

“Oh,” I said, brilliantly – then leaned in to kiss her. Her smile broadened as she opened her mouth to me. I felt a shock as our tongues caressed each other, hers faster, almost urgently, mine slower, more tentatively. It was the first time I’d had a girl’s tongue in my mouth.

I liked it.

When we broke, she moved closer, then leaned in and whispered, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Sounded like a grand idea to me, so I stood up – and found myself embarrassed by the bulge in my pants.

She giggled, hand to her mouth.

It took some time, but we eventually found that in the gathering darkness, the field near Dickson was big enough that we could lie on the grass and be invisible to anyone walking by.

We didn’t go all the way. I was too nervous to even suggest it, and she didn’t seem to want to, but we were both enthusiastic about letting our hands roam around each other’s bodies. I was able to slide my hand up under her blouse, and she rubbed her hand along the front of my trousers, and squeezed.

We stopped when it was getting late, as we had classes the next morning. I walked her back to the dorm, and we kissed good night. She giggled again, twirled, then ran into the dorm.

I walked, rather stiffly, back to my dorm, and sat down quietly in the room I shared with two other kids – it was a three-way, larger than the other rooms, which was why everyone from the hall had gathered there.

No one noticed me until Zack – who became one of my best friends – piped up. “Hey, look! James is covered in grass! Whatcha been up to, boychik? As if we didn’t know,” he asked with a big grin.

“A gentleman never tells,” I replied, grinning back – and got a raucous round of catcalls from everyone.

Seven minutes. Damn!

That set the tone for the summer. Janet and I had classes in the mornings and labs in the afternoon, then homework, but would meet for dinner. After that, we’d wander, hand in hand, until we found a secluded place where we could cuddle, talk – and make out.

It was heaven.

Eventually, we started doing other things – recitals, Campus Flicks, even a restaurant for my birthday. But we always wound up making out.

And we never went all the way.

I never pushed it, although I would have loved to – but we didn’t have anywhere safe to get naked.

One time, a patrolling security guard found us – and just chuckled and told us to move along. If we had been making love, it would have been a whole different ballgame.

When our eight-week courses finished, we were in love.

Or I thought we were.

We started writing regularly. Janet was very good about replying, but as time went on, her replies left a lot of unanswered questions. Eventually, I told her I was going to come to visit. She wasn’t keen – and finally told me not to come. Her boyfriend wouldn’t like it.

I was devastated.

But I kept writing for some reason. And she kept replying…

Three minutes.

Time went on. I dated other girls, went to university, started my career – and got married. But Janet and I kept writing, and somehow I could never forget her.

She always had a profusion of boyfriends – then got married, and the letters stopped.

And I knew it was time to let her go.

I loved my wife with an intensity that still brings tears to my eyes. A drunk driver T-boned us, and I went into rehab, learning how to walk again.

Jessica went into a grave.

I had lots of empty, aching, bitter time on my hands, so I started looking for Janet online. She was hard to find – but I’m persistent, and eventually tracked her down, then found she was divorced.

We connected by email…and set a date to speak by phone.

Thirty seconds.

My iPhone chirped. “Hi!” I said, then heard…

“God, James, I was so stupid!” I heard tears in her voice, “Please, can I see you again?”