She can see her knees, in a mirror from an open, cheap armoire at the end of the room, her least favorite body part on her whole body she thinks. She hides her boredom and she drinks her drink and Jesse speaks. Just like honey she thinks.

She fucking waits there for me and I am thirteen. Do you want to walk with me? You can have credit if you want when we talk about it to other people, she said and we were fucking thirteen. Who the fuck was this girl? Where did she come from? She was so intimate to me and so quickly, she felt like a time traveler or something or like my protector. My secret, beautiful protector and sometimes we ditched class together you know? And find a place.

She drinks too and she knows her velocity softly and slowly and never breaking the sound barrier.

Have you ever done anal? Yes she says, sipping the drink he hands to her, unfazed by his question. It feels like, like a more, powerful lucid dream because of the added and soft pain. She pauses and says, masochism is still pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, and takes another large sip from her glass and almost hiccups smiling. I like admitting it too. Another pause occurs and their ears pop clean air and she asks, why do you ask? Taking me out, like.