It was the best feeling, his hand in mine. His beautiful, angel-soft hand in mine.
Walking through the halls of Dalton hand in hand, I noticed the stares and so did he.
You would think that Dalton would be progressive and accepting of everyone, being a prestigious boarding school. That was by no means the case.
He was used to the stares coming from Lima where they were a daily occurance.
I was from New York, New York. I was raised in a sheltered privileged home, and despite my experiences in the eighth grade with bullying, I wasn't used to anything.
I just…wasn't.
"Why are they staring at us?" I whispered distraught. I knew the answer. He knew the answer.
He held my hand tighter and answered with a light touch of his lips to mine.
