I used to be a good girl. I used to be many things. Now I just make it up as I go along. Most of the time I don’t even know what I’m doing. Only that right now, I like the way this feels.
My moan disappears into the grinding of a guitar as I squeeze my eyes shut. I make my own stars as phosphenes flicker and dance behind my shuttered lids, winding through my vision in silver and yellow. I’m close, but not close enough for my mind not to wander.
JQ and I found a field as far from town as we could, dimming the city light. His fingers rested just inches from mine. We were young and nervous enough to make an excuse: a science project for Mr. Wilkins. We watched a celestial show in the sky that night, drifting to sleep under a summer blanket of stars. When dawn kissed our cold cheeks awake, we clasped hands. Then he kissed me, and I ran away.
Our lives went in parallax and here I am, my back arching as I call out with pleasure while my boyfriend has his head between my legs. I shouldn’t be thinking about someone else. But he accidentally called me Heather once—whoever that is. These days the line between right and wrong is a blur. But pleasure is pleasure. And I can’t deny Niko makes me feel good. I’ll settle for good.
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