A kiss remembered

I still think of him.
Yesterday on a walk through my empty neighborhood, near midnight when the summer bugs were filling the dark with noise, I remembered the first time we kissed.
I was at a reunion, and he was there too. I knew what he thought of me, and he knew about my feelings for him. We were trying to act normal, but I was doing a bad job. My heart beat was on the fritz, my stomach was curling and folding, and I couldn't keep a steady conversation with anybody.
I stood up and walked out of the room, towards the bathroom. I needed to clear my head, hear my voice rationalize things. The bathroom was down a few long hallways. I was in a vacated skyscraper, late at night, in a city. How wild, I thought, coming from a girl with cow pastures outside of her high school.
I stepped into the bathroom. A row of ten stall doors stood still and halfway open. I stood at the mirror, and gave myself a hard look. Stop trying to make something happen in your head. I fixed my hair, straightened my shirt, and left the bathroom.
I turned the corner of the hallway, and he was there. He reached for my hand, and told me to follow him. I did, unbelieving.
He opened a door, it was a small empty room with the electric box on the wall. The overhead light was florescent, and it bathed the moment in a blinding glare. I could see everything happening at that moment, but I was only guided by his hand.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," he said back. He leaned forward and gave me my first kiss.

I laughed out loud, in the humid night air, as I passed another mailbox.
That does count as a near perfect first kiss. 
But then my mind fast-forwarded through the rest of the story. When, nine months later, he sat on a park bench and told me, "That was the best kiss I've ever had."
Then he leaned forward, and put his lips on mine. I turned away, with tears in my eyes. I knew it was over, but I couldn't say it out loud. I couldn't even say it to myself.
On my neighborhood street, I felt my throat squeeze with tears, and I said, "I can't do this."
I couldn't reminisce about those beautiful moments, where I felt like my life was taking a spin in a new and irresistible way, because I knew if I thought harder I could track how my life ended up spinning out of control. "I can't do this," I said again.
I heard a movement and a thud. I gasped and froze. I turned and saw a small Asian man, putting his recycling bins onto the curb.
I swallowed my hysterics, and started down the road at a faster pace.