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  After a while, I text him again.

  Come back, please. I’m not mad, if that’s what you think. We should talk.

  I place my phone down on the counter and take another bite again, but my stomach growls in protest. It doesn’t like eating when it’s stressed.

  Still, no response from him, so I text him the last thing I can think of that will make him come back.

  I need you.

  The little icon shows he’s read it. I wait and wait. No reply.

  Sighing, I tuck my phone into my pocket and a bottle of water in my other pocket, and then make my way back to the couch. For a few minutes, I watch the news again, but the memory of seeing my own body lying on the pavement with him standing above it, protecting me, helping the ambulance crew get me back to the hospital … it all repeats over and over in my mind.

  Suddenly, my doorbell rings, and I shoot up from the couch.

  Well, as fast as I can anyway.

  Grabbing my crutches, I call out, “Coming!” and I walk to the door as fast as I possibly can with only one functioning leg. When I open the door and find him standing behind it, shoulders slumped, face hiding behind a storm of dark curls, my heart explodes.

  He doesn’t speak a word, and neither do I, even though I said we had to talk.

  I wouldn’t know what to say. He’s my hero.

  The only one I can count on. The one who’s always been there.

  I can only smile.

  “I never wanted you to find out like that …” he mutters.

  I step forward and take his hand, pulling him inside.

  “You must think I’m a stalker. A freak.”

  I shake my head and continue pulling him until I can close the door.

  “You don’t understand,” he says. “I didn’t just pull you out of that car …”

  “I know …” I say, bringing my hand to his face. His eyes are red, so I caress his cheeks, hoping he won’t cry.

  “I didn’t just volunteer at the hospital for fun or for work. I only started working there because you were there. Because I had to come and find you.”

  I lean into him and slowly wrap my arms around him, trying to let him know it’s okay.

  “And it’s not just that,” he adds, still looking down. “I’ve always wanted you. From the beginning. The first time I saw you at school. Always.”

  The word makes my head spin and my heart beat so fast, I can feel it through my entire body.

  Always.

  It fills me with something other than love … desire.

  “And when you were in the hospital, I just knew I needed to be there. And I never even told you why I knew you were there. That I was the one who … who …”

  I place my finger on his lips. “Shh … I understand.” My lips perk up into a smile and so do his. “You’re my hero. And I forgive you.”

  “Don’t say that …” he whispers.

  “I get it now. You don’t have to explain it. I’m not angry, and I’m not sad. I just want you.”

  I look up at him with the biggest smile I can muster, and it seems to lighten his mood too.

  There’s still a hint of something … a kind of darkness I can’t explain … but it’s okay for now. Some things are better left unsaid.

  I turn around and take a step into the hallway, looking back to grab his hand and pull him along every step of the way. I slowly guide him to my living room and turn the lights off. His face glows in the dark as I lean in as close as I possibly can, wrapping my arms around his waist. My lips inch toward his and I softly press a kiss on the side of his lips, and then another one on the other edge.

  His lips slowly find their way to mine until we’re locked in a heated kiss.

  My head feels heavy with thirst. I crave him more than I’ve ever craved anything. It’s unfamiliar to me but feels natural too. Like we were destined to end up together like this … desperately kissing … greedily pulling each other closer.

  My cheeks burn with the heat he exudes, and soon, his whole body radiates, and I can’t get enough. I need to get closer, have every inch of my body next to his.

  So I bring his hands to my waist and curl them underneath my shirt, coaxing him to pull it up. He hesitates for a second, but with my smile and my lips on his, he has no reason to hold back anymore.

  He pulls the shirt over my head and kisses my neck, not even caring to look at my breasts. I don’t feel insecure with him. All I can feel are the raging hormones, the need, the lust.

  His lips make a trail from my neck down to my breasts, where he plants a kiss between them. Then he throws off his own shirt, not giving a shit where it lands. I sense a change in his demeanor, as he no longer feels like the uncertain boy but more like a guy with a hunger he needs to satiate.

  His curls tickle my neck as he kisses my shoulder. “This is crazy,” he murmurs against my ears.

  “I like crazy …” I whisper as he wraps his arms around me and lets his lips roam free across my body.

  “But how far?” he asks.

  I moan when he places a kiss right below my earlobe.

  “Until the end. Don’t stop,” I say.

  He pulls me up in one go, making me squeal, and then walks backward into the bedroom with me in his arms. He gently places me on the bed and kneels to take off my pants again, revealing the panties he’s already seen. Still, they catch his eye, and the smirk that follows makes me flush.

  “I want to do this the proper way,” he says.

  Then he kisses my feet. One by one … inching up until he reaches the top of my legs where he hooks his fingers underneath my panties. I lift myself up as far as I can while he pulls them down, exposing my naked body. But I don’t feel bare with him. His smile is all I need to make me feel at ease.

  Casting my panties away, he focuses on my bad leg, kissing it so softly that it makes me want to melt into a puddle. My body begs him to touch it, even though it feels so different.

  Normally, I’d be scared out of my mind. Not now.

  Different is good. Different is sexy.

  Different is the new me.

  Today, with him.

  He kisses my leg all the way up to my thighs again and then lifts his head to kiss his way up to my stomach. I giggle a little as his curls tickle my skin. When he reaches my lips, all I can do is smile.

  Our mouths are inseparable, latching on after each impatient breath we take. I need him more than anything right now. I need him to take me and take away the pain, if only just for tonight.

  So I pull him closer and kiss him harder.

  He even nibbles my lip.

  “Cheeky,” I mutter.

  He bites his lip. “Sorry, I just get excited when I’m around you.”

  His mouth travels to my earlobe, suckling it as I moan. His hands drift across my breasts, his touch feeling so good I practically lean into the palm of his hand. The more he squeezes, the more I want him to see me and tear all the clothes away.

  “Can I see …” he murmurs.

  “Yes,” I hastily answer.

  With just one flick, he’s got my bra unhooked.

  “Wow, that was fast,” I say with a laugh. “Done it before?”

  “Nope, just got lucky,” he says as the bra drops from my shoulders and onto the floor.

  I blush, but I don’t try to cover myself up as I always do when I have to be naked in front of someone. With him, I feel safe. Secure.

  He immediately buries his head between my breasts.

  I laugh out loud; I can’t help it. It’s just too comical; the way he’s looking up at me with eyes that say ‘oops, I got caught doing something bad.’ But I don’t mind. It takes the pressure off.

  He takes one of my nipples into his mouth and suckles gently, and I lean back to soak it all in. The more he kisses me, the more I fall, until finally, I lay with my back on the bed.

  He steps back, rips down his zipper, and pulls away the button. T
he sexiness is quickly replaced with awkwardness, as we’re used to, because he stumbles taking off his own pants, making me hide a giggle behind my hand.

  “You laughing at me, El Handi-chap-o? You know you’re going to pay for that.”

  “Prove it,” I dare.

  That’s when he crawls on top of me, ravaging my shoulder and face with his tongue and lips, making me laugh even more. It quickly turns from fun game into sultry action as his kisses become greedier … and something in his underwear grows.

  He leans up. I lick my lips at the sight of him towering above me. His curls sway as he tugs at his boxer shorts and pulls down the elastic band. What appears underneath has me speechless and surprised.

  I’ve never actually seen one this close up.

  I sit up and place my hand on his stomach, stopping him from moving closer. He looks down at my hand as I slide it across his body, admiring every curve, every edge, every inch of his skin. Until I reach just below his length.

  “Can I …” I murmur.

  He grips my hand, slowly guiding me down until I reach his base. I hold my breath, wetness pooling between my legs as I touch him where I’ve never touched a man before. I slide my hand across his shaft, which bounces up and down from my touch.

  I look up and place my hands on his waist, pulling him in.

  He stays rigid, frozen between my legs. “Are you sure?” he asks.

  For a second I think, but I already know my answer.

  I trust him with all my heart. I know he’s the right one.

  So I nod. “Hundred percent.”

  ***

  Alexander

  I see her.

  Not just as a girl, but also as someone I want to make love with.

  I feel her.

  Every single inch of her touch resonates through my body, my muscles tensing every second she stops to take a breath. Her fingers trace a line from my waist to my back, and I feel it everywhere … and I want more.

  So much more … and it’s so fucking wrong.

  But how can I deny her the very thing she’s begged me for?

  I step closer and nudge her back on the bed. “Lie down.”

  She shuffles back slowly, taking care of her leg until her head rests on the pillow and she smiles.

  She reminds me of Sleeping Beauty … and it makes me wonder if she’ll ever realize how beautiful she is.

  I crawl on top of her, making sure her leg is left untouched. I try to be as careful as possible, positioning myself beside her, propping my head atop my hand so I can admire her for a little longer.

  “What are you doing?” she says.

  “Just enjoying … It’s my first time too.”

  She grins and folds her hands around my neck. “C’mere, you.”

  She tugs me closer until our lips smash together again, at which point I can no longer lean away. My hand instinctively travels down her body, feeling the urge to touch her the same way she touched me. The further down I go, the more she squirms.

  “Is this okay?”

  “Yes,” she murmurs, her breath tantalizingly long and hot against my lips.

  Between her legs, it’s warm and wet, where her skin turns into a slit and folds, where her soft sighs turn into moans.

  I stroke her gently … as soft as I can, so I don’t scare her. But the more I let my fingers roam, the more eager they—and she—become. Her hips start to move along with my fingers as I circle them around, wetness dripping onto my fingers.

  I need to feel her. Completely. Everywhere. Around me.

  Need takes over, and I climb on top of her, making sure she’s comfortable. There, I let my length rest atop her folds. It throbs in excitement, something I’ve only ever felt when I touched myself. Now, I don’t even have to … just seeing her is enough to get me rock hard.

  I kiss the top of her lips and whisper, “Are you really sure?”

  She nods.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I add.

  She places a finger on my lips and smiles softly.

  It’s all I need to know.

  I position myself at her entrance and let my length slide into her. It’s so tight and wet that I struggle not to come right there and then, but I force myself to hold it.

  The moment I see her flinch, I stop.

  “No, don’t stop. Just take it slow,” she says.

  I nod and push a little further until her soft folds envelop my head.

  “Kiss me …” she mutters, and I immediately oblige.

  When my lips touch hers, her fingers brush through my hair and her breathing unwinds. Her body relaxes, letting me in. I move further, slowly sliding in until my base touches her thighs. There, I sit for a moment, reveling in the moment that I am inside the only woman I’ve ever wanted. It feels surreal, like we’re connected on a level beyond touch. Beyond anything I could ever imagine.

  I thrust in and out as slow as I possibly can, her body wriggling with mine as we build to a climax. I kiss her everywhere—on her neck, her ears, her cheeks—and her body responds with pulses inside. I feel her every breath intensifying, her muscles tensing again, and I know the moment is near.

  “I’m here,” I whisper in her ear. “Let it go.”

  She lets out a short gasp and then a loud moan. She stiffens, her flesh contracting around me. I feel her pulse, again and again, her body squirming underneath mine.

  That’s when I release myself.

  I explode in an ecstasy of bliss, not able to hold back any longer. It feels so fucking good that I thrust three more times inside her wet folds. When I finally succumb to my own excitement, I take a deep breath and pull myself out of her, holding myself up above her with just my elbows.

  Her eyes glisten, her lips perking up. My stomach twists and my face turns bleak. A few tears form that roll down the sides of her cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” I say.

  “Nothing,” she says, laughing.

  “Are you hurt?” I immediately lean up, using every last bit of my strength so I don’t crush her.

  “No, I’m fine.” She brushes away her tears.

  I lick my lips. “But you’re crying.”

  “I know. But it’s not bad tears. These are good tears.” She sucks in a short breath. “Happy tears.”

  “Happy tears?” Now I feel bad for even mentioning it.

  “Because I never thought I’d ever be able to do this.”

  I make a face. “Why?”

  She shrugs. “No one ever liked me. Not like you do, anyway.”

  I smile and swipe away the final tear running down her rosy cheeks. “Then everyone’s ignorant and blind.” I roll off her and wrap my arm around her waist. “I like no one more than I like you.”

  “You mean that?” she asks.

  I pull her close and snuggle my face into her long hair. “No one deserves you. That’s how amazing you are.”

  She closes her eyes, smiling from ear to ear. “I’m so weird. You’re the only one who accepts that.”

  “I don’t care about your weirdness. Your quirks are funny. It only makes me want to be with you.” I yawn and close my eyes too. I don’t know why, but I feel so tired. Must be because I’ve finally crossed the line between being just a boy and becoming a man.

  She turns her head to me and kisses me on the nose. Right before I fall asleep, I can hear her whisper some words, but they’re so quiet they don’t register with me.

  “Good night,” she says.

  But I’m already long gone.

  Breaking Point

  Alexander

  I sit on the couch and stare at the TV.

  My family sits around me talking loudly, but the television is the only thing I hear. My body feels numb, and so does my heart. I’m vapid. Emotionless. I don’t know what to do.

  “Alex, why haven’t you gone to visit your dad yet?” my aunt asks.

  I lift my head up at the sound of my name. “What
? Why?”

  She frowns. “Shouldn’t you go visit him?”

  Oh, right.

  He was in the hospital.

  My heartbeat fluctuates, my head suddenly pounding from the memories of his cardiac arrest flooding back into my mind. It was only two days ago. It feels like it happened two minutes ago.

  “Alex?” my aunt repeats.

  “Sorry … I don’t …” I sigh.

  “You should visit him, you know.”

  “What’s the point?” I look her directly in the eye. “He’s not here.”

  “Yes, he is … Don’t you talk about your father like that.”

  I clench my fists, trying to stop myself from storming out the door. Now that my mom spends half the days at my dad’s bed, my aunt’s here to watch over me. I should be thankful, but I’m not.

  I wish she’d just leave.

  I wish everyone would just go away.

  I don’t want to be here, either. I don’t want to have these feelings of hopelessness, but I do.

  The worst part is that I can’t even get myself to stomach facing him.

  My dad … the soulless body lying on a stretcher, his eyes half-open, his mouth dripping with saliva. How could I ever see him again without that image constantly running through my mind?

  This is why I isolate myself. Why I pretend to watch TV and play games.

  It’s so I can shut out the world.

  So I can live without really living at all.

  “I can’t go to him. I just can’t.”

  My family looks at me in disgust.

  They don’t understand.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  I get up and walk away.

  I have to … I don’t want to punch a wall.

  “Yeah, you leave again,” my aunt yells, but I don’t listen anymore.

  I know they think I don’t love my father, but they’re wrong. I love him so much that I don’t want to see him until he’s better again. I refuse to see him in a choked-up state, knowing that’s the last image I’ll have of him in my mind before he dies. And if I don’t see him … then he’ll never die.