Because I Still Can
I shove him up against the door the moment it’s closed and kiss him fiercely before he can draw in a surprised breath. One hand reaches up, as if to tangle in his hair, and I sense him brace for a wince of pain that will never come. My hand stops short, because I haven’t forgotten, and instead my fingers brush gently across his new scar.
“I was so scared.” My words are puffs of hot air against his lips, and he swallows them eagerly.
“I was too.”
“Promise me you won’t get hurt again.”
“I promise.”
But I know this is a promise he can’t keep, so I kiss him harder, just because I still can.