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rip out my heart, crush it with only a thought, gather it up, and burn it to ashes.

    Love. A four letter word. So beautiful in its spelling. So simple in its arrangement. So innocent in its meaning. So fragile in its time. So devastating in its aftermath.

    I don’t want to think about that anymore, the pain that sliced me to my core. I survived. There were good times, stolen moments when my world opened up to the possibilities of becoming a woman. Seconds when I would have given him anything he asked for because I thought that what I held in my arms was the most precious thing in my life.
    The first time we kissed. That night still makes me ache with longing. I didn’t know kisses could be so…sexual. Sure, I had kissed my share of frogs, and a couple of princes along the way, but nothing close to this. God, that kiss was earth shattering. Eye-opening.
    For some ungodly reason, I had decided not to go out that night, and instead, I invited him back to my one room apartment above the bakery. It was the only thing I could afford while still being able to eat, especially considering I was constantly hungry thanks to the heavenly smells of freshly baked breads, cakes, and pies drifting from downstairs. Asking him over was a dangerous move for a young girl not wanting to tempt fate, but teetering on the edge of desire, hormones won out. Lust is a living, breathing creature, tempting little girls and boys with glimpses of pleasure.
    For several nights, I had lain in bed, feeling guilty about the thoughts running through my mind. I dreamed of my hands tickling across his chest, up over his well-defined shoulders, and back down to drift over the solid muscles shaped like the letter “V” on his lower abdomen. When he called that morning to see what my plans were for the evening, I stammered like a school girl, finally blurting out that I wanted to stay in and finish some lyrics, knowing he would offer to come help, and of course, he did.
     
    The knock on the door causes me to raise my head from my cross-legged position on the bed. Taking a deep breath, I look down at my tight, white tee and tiny, grey gym shorts that I pray don’t look too obvious. I did leave my curly hair down because I know that’s how Tag likes it. Jumping up, I look around at my sparse living quarters and sigh. It’s too late to worry about that now.
    Opening the door, I can’t help the smile that covers my face. “Hey,” I say to him, my grin growing bigger by the second.
    “Hey,” he says back, holding a pizza box with a six-pack of soda on top in one hand and his guitar case in the other. “I come prepared.”
    I reach for the food, walking over to sit it on the small table in the corner. He follows me the few steps in and shuts the door behind him. He’s dressed in his regular jeans, t-shirt, and, tonight, a baseball hat. Setting his guitar on my bed, I notice him inspecting my current habitation. I grasp my hands in front of me, rocking back on my heels. To say that I’m nervous is the understatement of the century. I don’t know exactly what I expect or if I even expect anything at all.
    We’ve been seeing each other for weeks, and he hasn’t even tried to kiss me. We have discussed my inexperience, only because it was brought up while writing lyrics one night. He was fascinated that I was a virgin. Obsessed almost. It’s sweet, but I’m not sure if he realizes that I’ve done other things. That wasn’t discussed nor did I feel like I had to divulge that information. I kept myself from getting in trouble at home. I didn’t, however, act as if I was living in a nunnery. Tag’s held my hand and rubbed my arms when we’ve sat side by side, but his lips haven’t ventured in my territory. Maybe he’s not that interested in me. He seems like it, but I’m getting mixed signals here.
    “Nice place,” he says, finally looking back at me.
    I give a small laugh, “Yeah, I’m into the whole minimalist mentality.”
    “Really?” his