I didn't know, not at first. Something inside me just snapped, almost like a climax to a song, a good song. There was this great sense of clarity and I wanted to tell someone, anyone. If I had been near a city corner at the time I'm sure I would have run up to a stranger and told them, would have let the words dribble from my lips like a tumbling mess. But I wasn't in the city; I was sitting out on the deck admiring the scenery of the late afternoon sun, watching from afar as families, friends and lovers drifted off the beach and into their cars.

I pictured him and there it was, my answer. The answer to why no one else could stick around, the reason why all my other dates fell through the cracks of my denial. I saw his hair, flowing, reminding me of a daffodil flower. I saw his lips, so perfectly pink and plump. And then his eyes, they were drawn before me in my third eye; they were so very present in my mind that I swooned at their realistic hazel brown glow.

I didn't know, not at first, and it frightened me- scared me, because I was lost in a heavy fog of uncertainty. I tried digging through that fog, tried peering above and under it in vain attempts to understand, to understand that I'm just the tiniest bit crooked. I'm not set in a straight line when it comes to his, I'm thrown in all directions and drawn up and down, side to side- never straight, never the same as everyone else.

To be different never frightened me before. To stand outside the crowd never shook me with a ridged shock. But being near him, feeling that heat, that warmth of his body and that scent of his neck, I felt so very different, pushing against the current of my heap-like peers.

I wish he wouldn't stand so close to me. I wish he wouldn't look at me, because he knows not what he does - these emotions, they rock and shake inside of me and I get seasick with desire and affection. That should have been my first sign, but I ignored it all, I stayed with the herd, I moved comfortably with my blinders on. I was dead set on not letting that feeling seep into my pores. Don't let it in! A voice would shout... Don't feel! Don't long to touch! I drove myself past insanity, past the normal realm, and skyrocketed into madness.

But that day, on the deck, I finally let it settle in, let the notion of crookedness take hold. And I held it inside, a secret, a deadly secret that was mine to keep and guard, but not forever...

-/-

He was sweaty.

It's after his basketball game. I waited around because that's what friends do, they wait and stay. He told me it would be okay to wait in the locker room; his teammates have long gone home. It was just the two of us. He scored today, I'm proud of him, I boasted about him whenever I can to anyone.

He was very sweaty, I can tell by the drenched look of his yellow uniform and shiny dampness on his forehead glowing in the locker room lighting. He opened his locker and threw in his hoes, they made a heavy bang and it echoed through the empty room. He ran his hand through his hair thoughtfully.

I'm sitting down on the bench across from him, watching and licking my suddenly dry chapped lips. There it is again, the emotion, it is creeping up out of my chest, burning brightly - so much in fact that I'm surprised he hasn't noticed.

"Elizabeth?"

I like the way he says my name. No one can say it right anymore, not the way he does. He can make it sound like something beautiful, like a poem or a song.

"Yes?" I asked, crossing my legs and keeping my clammy hands together and resting in my lap.

"I'm glad you came..." He smiled, the creases around his eyes crinkling and his lips curving up in an adorable act of thankfulness.

Blood pooled into my cheeks and I shrugged, "No biggie," I whispered.

"It is big, I know you hate sports and all. But it means a lot knowing you're in the crowd... watching me." He confessed closing his locker and turning to face me fully. He was holding his towel and toiletry bag, standing as if waiting for something more, waiting for me...

My dry mouth closed shut and I feel everything, nervous and anxious more than anything. He stared, dark hazel eyes brimming with a specific desire I do not know, but in a flash it is gone, in a flash he regains his silly optimistic nature and laughs. He began to walk away, his socked feet sliding against the cement flooring. In a rush of adrenaline I stood up suddenly.

"Henry!" His name on my lips feels nectar sweet.

Not saying a word, not wasting a moment of meaningless conversation that may make me back out of this decision, I took three long strides and grab hold of his shoulders, tightly. My lips collided harshly with his and our teeth hit. He felt hot and the sweat on his back is slick as I ran a hand up his shirt.

He smelled of sweat and dirt, but I've never felt more aroused in my life. I took charge, backing him up against the locker. As soon as his back hits it he drops his towel and toiletry bag. His hands were in my hair before I knew it, gripping my blonde locks with a fierce clamp. I don't care about anything else. I don't care... I just... lips to lips, teeth against teeth. We fought each other. He started to pull back, I press him forward. I'm not letting him go. It's taken me so long to realize...

My face between his neck and shoulder, that space I've wanted to touch for so long is mine. I'm greedy, tongue and teeth they are used for different things now. He gasped, and I decided there is nothing better than that sound. I'm an animal, hands up the front of his shirt and teasing with invisible lines across his stomach. Lips to his chin now, I let him hold my shoulders. He smelled like outside, reminds me of summers deep in the forests.

A muffled cry of, "No," against my mouth shocks me into letting go. Henry placed a small hand to his forehead and sighs, out of breath. I stood back, my hands balled up into fists and chest rising and falling- matching his breathless rhythm.

"God. No, God no." He hissed to himself. His eyes still closed and one of his fingers running over his lips he shakes his head.

I could run, the thought teases me. I could just run and not face him. I could run to the parking lot, jump into my car and drive away. But no, leaving Henry there, confused and mixed with feelings wouldn't be right. But standing in silence in a smelly locker room isn't getting us anywhere either.

Henry finished his small panic attack and watched me with his piercing dark eyes, "Why did you do that?"

Because I wanted to, because I've always wanted to, and you mean more to me than you should - mean more to me than what is best friend appropriate.

"Impulse," I said, "Just on... impulse. Henry, I'm..." What? What am I? Not sorry, that's what I am- not sorry.

"I think you should go." He stated plainly, staring intently at the ground.

I felt as though a pair of hands were squeezing my lungs, for a brief moment I did not move.

To go, to leave, to not look back. I turn on my heel and walk away feeling dazed.

-/-

Misery becomes me, a day later and I haven't done anything that involves thinking, moving, or doing... I have become a slug. Henry's roommate called this morning; he noticed Henry acting strangely and inquired about it- I denied having any idea what could cause him to act so peculiar. Lying is easy with practice.

Now, I'm flipping channels on TV- nothing is on, of course. The local news is showing clips of yesterday's basketball game. I sighed heavily, body falling – sagging into itself like an exhale, when I saw a quick soundless shot of Henry scoring a shot. Henry was smiling, and although only in a baggy uniform I notice how manly he has become. He looks good, ridiculously good.

My phone vibrated, breaking my thoughts; I slid it open and hit the view selection.

"Meet me at the park...H."

I replied without really thinking- my heart in my mouth, my adrenaline pumping- I replied with a quick okay and fell back into the couch.

-/-

I feel like an idiot. Both hands gripping metal chains and feet crunching mulch, I sat on a swing with my head down - alone in the dark. It's around seven thirty and there's no sign of him anywhere. Heart down - disappointment rings out truer than any other emotion.

I hear a dog bark and police siren in the distance. A sudden chill (like ice) made me shake, tremble - for my own heartsick nature. Oh God, I'm so melodramatic.

"Elizabeth?"

Like a song, like a poem, he is here, saying my name, and I feel a wild heat of pleasure pool into my stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I'm late, I know, I'm sorry."

I shook my head with a small smile and dry laugh, "Doesn't matter..."

He took the swing next to me and stared at our shoes. "I feel kinda stupid," He admitted thoughtfully as he began to swing back and forth slowly.

"Why?" I asked, mimicking his swinging back and forth.

"Because I was a jerk..."

In the dark as we swing side by side he looks angel-like. The sound of the metal chains and constant squeak of the old swing set fills me with child innocence.

"A jerk?" I questionned with a raised brow.

He stopped swinging suddenly, plowing his feet into the brown wet mulch, he stopped and turned to me, I stopped swinging as well and we face each other.

"I told you to leave," He whispered.

"You were confused, I was the jerk... I k-kissed you."

Henry turned his face to the sky, to the half-moon and dim stars- he shut his eyes and opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something but... but-

"Yes," He said after a long moment, "You kissed me."

"I like you..." I blurted out, a gust of air rushing out of my lungs.

Henry smiled, eyes still closed.

"Okay."

Astonished, I let my mouth hang ajar. "Okay?!"

Henry swings to my side, grabs hold of my metal chain and pulls me to him sharply - and then just lips-

Just his lips to mine.