palms had magnets in them or something. My hand
practically floated into his and next thing I knew, we
were walking toward his room, neither of us saying a
word.
"When we got there, he let go and flopped on
his bed, on his back, looking up at the ceiling with his
hands behind his head.
"'I guess you know what it's like for me laying
around in my room and hearing my father bang into
things when he comes home from a night out there,'
he said. 'I hear him cursing and ranting. Sometimes, I
can hear him crying through the wall. That's how he
comes down from a drunk.'
"'He feels bad about what happened with your
mother,' I said.
"Steve opened his eyes wider and looked at me. "'Yeah, I suppose,' he said. 'Maybe that's why
he drinks more and more now, to forget. Only, I don't
think it helps you forget. I think it makes it come
back, only like some. . . some nightmare.'
"'I suppose you're right,' I said.
"I sat beside him and he brought his hands around and took my right hand into his and just held it, studying my fingers as if they was something special. Then he looked up at me again, his eyes practically speaking to me, drawing me toward him. I didn't even realize I had leaned so far over we were
close enough to kiss again until we did.
"Suddenly I was beside him on the bed and he
was hovering over me, his face so serious it made my
heart skip beats until he brought his lips to mine again
and then, when he touched me and unbuttoned my
blouse, my heart felt more like a wild, frantic animal
in my chest, thundering hard against my ribs. I was
scared but excited.
"It didn't take long to get half undressed. The