The Saint

“So it wasn’t because you lost interest in me?”

“Not even a little. Fuck, Bambi, I’ve always been so fucking gone for you.”

“Do I even cross your mind at all?”

“No.” His voice sounds gravelly and I stop but don’t turn around. “You don’t cross my mind; you fucking live in it. It’s like you’ve taken up residence at the forefront of my brain.”

“Okay, that’s fair. But can you be mad at me and still let me kiss you? Because it’s all I’ve fucking thought about since Friday night.”

“He hasn’t kissed me yet. But he said he’s going to at midnight.”

“And you’re going to let him?”

“It seems kind of pathetic, being eighteen and never having been kissed. He said he’d teach me how.”

“He’s too fucking late.” My hand wraps around the back of her neck, and I pull her into me, covering her mouth with my own.

The second I find her, my whole world is knocked right off its axis. “Holy shit.” I gawk, unable to focus on anything but her.