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around the
block. Anyone but this tall, gawkish man-boy with the thin face and
unruly mop of dark hair, whose mouth curved into a shy smile when
those stormy eyes met mine. “You must be Henry,” he said, before I
could introduce myself. He offered me a hand I never wanted to
release. “Betty’s told me all about you.”
    Betty. My sister. Who thought I should spend
the day with her current beau, checking up on him instead of
checking him out. My voice croaked, each word a sentence as final
as death. “Jim. Yes. Hello.”
    I vowed to keep a distance between us but
somehow Jim worked through my defenses. He had a quick laugh, a
quicker grin, and an unnerving way of touching my arm or leg or
bumping into me at odd moments that caught me off guard. He skirted
a fine line, too nice to be just my sister’s boyfriend but not
overtly flirting with me. Once or twice I thought I had his
measure, thought I knew for sure which side of the coin he’d call,
but then he would be up in the air again, turning heads over tails
as I held my breath to see how he would land. That first afternoon
was excruciating—lunch, ice cream afterward, a walk along the
boulevard as I tried to pin him down with questions he laughed off
or refused to answer. I played it safe, stuck to topics I thought
he’d favor, like how he met my sister and what he planned to do now
that he was out of high school. But his maddening grin kept me at
bay. “Oh, leave Betty out of this,” he told me at one point,
exasperated. “I know her already. Tell me more about you.”
    I didn’t want to talk about myself. There was
nothing I could say that would make him fall for me instead of
Betty, and I just wanted the day to be over. I didn’t want to see
him again, didn’t want to think about him if I could help
it, and in my mind I was already running through a list of excuses
as to why I couldn’t attend my sister’s wedding if she married him,
when Jim noticed a matinee sign outside the local theater. “You
like these kind of movies?” he wanted to know. Some creature flick,
not my style at all, but before I could tell him we should be
heading back, Jim grabbed my elbow and dragged me to the ticket
window.
    Two seats, a dime apiece, and he chose one of
the last rows in the back of the theater, away from the shrieking
kids that threw popcorn and candy at the screen. He waited until I
sat down, then plopped into the seat beside mine, his arm draped
casually over the armrest and half in my lap. “Do you bring Betty
here?” I asked, shifting away from him. Better to bring my sister
up like a shield between us, in the drowsy heat and close darkness
of the theater, to remind me why I was there. Betty trusted me,
even if I didn’t trust myself.
    Jim shrugged, uninterested. As the lights
dimmed and the film began, he crossed his legs, then slid down a
bit in the seat, letting his legs spread apart until the ankle
rested on his knee. His leg shook with nervous energy, jostling the
seat in front of him and moving at the edges of my vision, an
annoying habit, distracting, and when I couldn’t stand it any
longer, I put my hand on his knee to stop it. As if he had been
waiting for me to make the first move, Jim snatched my hand in both
of his, threaded his fingers through mine, and pulled my arm into
his lap. “Jim,” I whispered with a slight tug, but he didn’t seem
to hear me and didn’t release my hand. I tried again.
    He just held on tighter, refusing to
acknowledge I wanted him to let go.
    Leaning closer so I wouldn’t have to raise my
voice, I tried again. “Jim—”
    He turned and mashed his lips against mine in
a damp, feverish kiss. I shouldn’t , my mind started, then I can’t , then Betty . Then his tongue licked into me,
softer than I had imagined and so much sweeter than a man had the
right to be, and I stopped thinking altogether. I was a whirl of
sensation and every touch, every breath, every part of my world was
replaced with Jim. Betty isn’t