Innocent touch, but infused with something I could not identify. Innocent touch, with no intent to go beyond. But I picture that touch now, and it is ...ot a finger tracing my lips, but it is a tongue, gently circling my mouth. It is my own tongue, swirling around, licking my own lips, the moistness a reminder of just how innocent his touch had been. And now I wonder, and try to imagine a touch not so innocent. I am standing alone, looking in the mirror. I see my shoulders, naked, and imagine her. The first night was normal or, if it wasn't, I don't remember. We stopped at a liquor store and, finally legal, bought a handle of vodka apiece which we promptly emptied half of before the night was out. Tom and Not-Not Harry attached themselves to us early in the night, fiddling with the strings on our hoodies and stroking our hair playfully while Marissa and I tried to hold a conversation. But we talked about other boys too, just to annoy them. And we talked about girls, to get them. More

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