You Are Far Less Likely To Soil

I Have Something I Need To Tell You," He Says. I Run My Fingers Along The Tendons In His Hands And Look Back At Him. "i Might Be In Love With You." He Smiles A Little. "i'm Waiting Until I'm Sure To Tell You, Though." "that's Sensible Of You," I Say, Smiling Too. "we Should Find Some Paper So You Can Make A List Or A Chart Or Something." I Feel His Laughter Against My Side, His Nose Sliding Along My Jaw, His Lips Pressing My Ear. "maybe I'm Already Sure," He Says, "and I Just Don't Want To Frighten You." I Laugh A Little. "then You Should Know Better." "fine," He Says. "then I Love You.

Someone Shouts, "enough!" And I Think Too Much And Nothing At All.

I Know Some Things--i Know That I'm Not Alone, That I Have Friends, That I'm In Love. I Know That I Don't Want To Die, And For Me That's Something--more Than I Could Have Said A Few Weeks Ago.

You Won," Four Mutters. "stop." I Wipe The Sweat From My Forehead. He Stares At Me. His Eyes Are Too Wide; They Look Alarmed.

We May Both Be Bad, But There’s A Huge Difference Between Us—i’m Not Content With Being This Way.