Fallout (Crank 3)

covers his, rides along as it

travels my cheek again, this

time all the way down to

the corner of my lips. I kiss

his fingertips before yanking

myself out of the moment.

“Uh … where’s Matt, anyway?”

I let my hand drop. His should

too. But it doesn’t. He’ll be here

later. Dentist appointment.

MY ACTIONS

Imply regret, but we both know

I’m not sorry for what just happened.

Hastily withdrawn affection or no,

we both understand I want to touch

Kyle again. Almost as much as I want

him to touch me again. I need to

say something, but can find

no words to convey the burst

of emotions I’m feeling. Guilt.

Lust. Remorse. Intrigue. Perhaps

most of all, I have an intense

desire to see where Kyle’s small

gesture of concern might lead.

But what should I do now?

Best answer: nothing. Pretend

it didn’t happen. “Bell’s gonna ring.”

I’ll walk you to your locker.

He keeps his body very close.

Protectively close. Almost