"When he saw me staring he turned and pinned me between his body and the wooden bar. Putting his hands on either side of me, he leaned down to kiss me. Hard. Without reservation. I didn't care how many people could see us making out. I was drunk. And happy. And in that moment, my body wanted him. "
"I lay as still as possible. My eyes were glued to the ceiling above me as I watched the fan go round and round and round, each revolution emitting a faithful click. A loose screw perhaps. It was something you could count on. Something to fall asleep to. But I was wide awake."
"As we walked the winding paths of Central Park, our hands would catch every so often and make me blush. I wanted so badly for him to thread his fingers through my own but either he didn't pick up on it or he didn't care. We passed a book vendor just outside of the zoo with crates and crates full of fiction and nonfiction, both old and new. My empty hand was drawn to them and as I reached out my fingers traced the cursive titles.
'You're on page 109, by the way,' I heard him say behind me. 'I closed your book. I didn't want the binding to get ruined.'
He almost said it reproachfully. I smiled as I looked away from him and toward the vast open green space, a complete juxtaposition from the gray city surrounding us on all sides. How fitting. He was hellbent on keeping his life free from evidence of wear while I went to great lengths to make sure I left a piece of me on everything that I touched."
"His hand rested on my hip bone with his fingers spread wide and I could feel even while he slept how much he wanted to possess me."
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