So, is it too young for you?”

He leaned over, lips coming to mine, arms pulling me into a kiss, soft at first, tentative, then … wow. The guy could kiss. I finally had to pull back to catch my breath.

“Good answer?” he said.

“Yep. You like them young.”

He flushed. “That was not the message.”

“Are you sure? Because it certainly seems–“

He cut me off with another oxygen-depriving kiss.

They meet in the girls’ bathroom. The last time they were forced to meet in a place like this, they took separate, isolated stalls. Now they share one. They hold each other in the tight space, making no excuses for it. There’s no time left in their lives for games, or for awkwardness, or for pretending they don’t care about each others, and so they kiss as if they’ve done it forever. As if it is as crucial as the need for oxygen.

He pauses for only a fraction of a second. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to mine, and the whole world powers off, the moon and the rain and the sky and the streets, and it’s just the two of us in the dark, alive, alive, alive.

Rebecca stared back at him, still dazed. She’d forgotten how to speak; it seemed an unimportant skill, anyhow, when such kisses were to be had, when a whole world could be made from a kiss.

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