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took away her purity. What the hell is wrong with me? And why do I care
so much? Why couldn’t I take a step down that staircase earlier? Why was I
drawn back in to finish what we had started, and now why can’t I leave her
while she’s sleeping? I wanted to punch something. Why did everything in this
apartment look like it was so damn breakable?
    I sat up, preparing myself to find my way out. I peeked
down, hoping she hadn’t stirred. Her soft skin glowed in the moonlight. She was
so peaceful. No wonder I thought she looked untouched, she truly was. But not
anymore—I had touched her. I had touched her, and now I was about to leave her.
I wasn’t planning on asking for her phone number, or even giving her mine. I
wasn’t planning on it, but I wanted to. I wanted her to want to see me again. I
wanted to be desired by her. My hand grazed her back, shooting needles up my
arm. I wanted to be inside of her again. It was unlike anything I had ever
imagined.
    The desire I felt for her in that instant was mirrored by
the frustration she caused me. I was angry with Grace. I didn’t want to be her
first. I have never wanted that responsibility. Even my first, at thirteen, was
a broad my Pops hired to ‘get it over with’. Since then, it’s been nothing but
recycled girls just holding out for one more day with the club. Yet, I couldn’t
walk away. I had hidden behind a bush and chased her into a bar. How was I
supposed to walk away from that?
    Her innocence was enlightening, and I found myself wanting
to be better, to be more. I wanted to be more than her lover. I wanted her to
be proud of me. What kind of a crock of shit is that? And for that, I knew I
couldn’t see her anymore. Yet, I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted her to tell me
not to go. I didn’t realize how fucked up I was until now.
    I rolled out of the bed, hoping not to disturb her, but
honestly wanting her to wake up at my absence. Nothing. I found my jeans, and
slid them over my bare legs. I figured I’d leave my boxers; give her a little
memento of our time together. I made my way to the door when I heard her speak.
    “Hey.” She whispered. Her eyes were only half open, but her
peaceful smile called to me.
    I couldn’t control myself. I sprang back to her side, pushing
soft wisps of red hair behind her ears and gently kissing her lips.
    “Hey, I was just…”
    “Leaving forever?”
    It was so matter of fact that it was painful.
    “I was going to leave a number.”
    “Don’t lie to me, Ryan.” She was dazed and half asleep, but
she saw right through me. I couldn’t reply. “Well, maybe I’ll run into you
again. Do you live in the neighborhood?”
    I shook my head. “No. I live in Southwest Philly.”
    She giggled, probably out of delirium. “I’m not allowed
there, so,” her hand cradled my cheek, “I guess this is it.”
    What the hell was wrong with her? Be a fucking girl. Cry a
little. Beg me to call you.
    “Not allowed?”
    “Father’s orders.”
    “Fuck him. It’s not that bad.”
    “For me it is.”
Why was I fighting her? This should have been what I wanted: a clean break.
    I traced the outline of her cheek with my finger. “Okay, one
day when you’re not so delirious, you’ll have to explain all this to me.”
    “But we’re not seeing each other anymore. Did you miss that
whole part?”
    I stood up. She was pissing me off. “Shit Grace, stop being
so okay with this. Just give me your number.”
    “No. I’m not going to give you my number so you can pretend
you’re going to call me.”
    “You’re being ridiculous.”
    “I’m being practical.”
    “So you’re not giving me your number?”
    “No.”
    “Fine.” I wanted to stop there. I wanted to move on with my
life, but my blood was boiling. “Then I’ll find you.”
    I grabbed her face between my hands and forcefully kissed
her. I wanted her to know I was not done. I wanted her to know that I was
claiming her, that she was now mine. I wouldn’t let her high