Happy Holidays to everyone celebrating.

The first day of placarding went by smoothly. Although Patrick and I together, put fewer billboards up than the slowest of the others. Frank didn't seem mad, though. He didn't even separate us on our second day's tour. Although Donald had to accompany us which didn't exactly make him rejoice. But he dealt with our lovey-dovey behavior because he, himself, walked by the diner in hopes of catching the redheaded waitress during her break.

That day coincidence was on his side and he let us take a break by ourselves and earlier at that. We left the barrow full of billboards at the diner in the hands of Donald. For the first time, I could completely let go of any responsibility and it was an amazing relief.

"What do you want to do?" I asked Patrick as we walked down the streets, holding hands like we were walking to our own little house in our own little town. Like this town, on this day, in this fall belonged to us. Like we were its inhabitants all along, since our childhood and further because our parents hadn't ever seen other streets in their life.

He shrugged and I loved it. He could have said anything and I would have completely adored it. We walked down emptier streets until we found a house that looked dead with its falling shingles and rotting wood beams that framed the rectangular structure and its protruding porch. But it was perfect. A small and cozy one-story home with a chimney in the middle. Perfect because it wasn't big enough to feel weird when your whole life previously fitted in a trailer.

Patrick shamelessly jumped on the porch planks and the house creaked its welcome like it looked forward to being in someone's life again. I followed his example and sat down on the one stair it had to offer for rest. I sat there like I just made lemonade in the kitchen and came out to enjoy the little sun the year had left. Patrick swung around the porch beam to let himself fall next to me. The house echoed his burden with a wooden grunt. He didn't just content himself with sitting, he lounged back on his elbows and let his head rest on his shoulder.

"You know what this porch lacks?", he whispered with a sigh.

"Proper cleaning?" I joked and rubbed the dust off the planks until the grey appeared whitish again.

"A porch swing," Patrick revealed and let out a long-held breath.

I looked at him. He had his eyes closed. There was a dust flake caught in his blond curls. Caught like the sunlight in summer. Only making the rest of him prettier. I leaned over. I knew he must notice but he didn't acknowledge it. I was close to him, barely keeping my balance on one arm. The other hand moved through the air to the dust in his hair, hesitating for a moment because of the dirt on my palm from brushing the debris off the porch before.

He must feel the shadow of my hand over his face or the warmth of my skin radiating near his cheek. He didn't flinch. I picked the dust out of his curl and gave it to the wind. My hand didn't retreat, though. It combed through his hair, brushing strands behind his ear which stubbornly fall back into place. His eyebrows twitched before a smile covered his lips. He leaned into my palm without really moving.

My hand wandered to the nape of his neck and I let myself lose balance to reach his lips. Most of my weight now rested on him but he held me upright, even sacrificing one of his stabilizing arms to wrap around my middle. His kiss was sloppy and his lips wet while he caught my lower lip in his. Kissing again and again. Never really breaking contact but also never touching on the same spot. I felt his hunger in the breath we shared. A sigh of his developed in something more like a groan or breathlessness.

My hand moved on his chest to gain better support. Or that's what I was telling myself. I just wanted to touch more of his body. The parts I had only previously discovered through wet and clingy shirts. I wanted more of him. And he gave me what I wanted. This time I deemed it not so bad that he could read me like an open book. He touched my lower lip with his tongue like a question if I let him do what he had in mind. It sent electricity down my body. I reciprocated the nudge and he didn't even let me finish before his tongue brushed against mine.

I had never understood the appeal of french kisses nor witnessed anyone responsible kissing like that in public. Now I was doing it and moaning into Patrick's mouth, too lost in the rush to even care that we were sitting on a porch in the middle of a street.

Patrick responded with a moan of his own, pressing me against his chest and lowering his upper body until his back reached the planks. Immediately his hands reached for my face to pull me closer into a lusting kiss. I was about to lie on top of him. I wouldn't want my parents or anyone to catch us like this. Yet I couldn't possibly break a kiss this good.

That's when Patrick pulled back, holding my face at the closest distance that he could look at me clearly. His eyes searched my face. I must look disheveled with swollen red lips, breathlessly panting. Nevertheless, he smiled. He, himself, had red blotches on his cheeks and down his neck and a lot more dust caught in his hair than before.

"We should stop." He whispered although he inched closer to my mouth again.

"Why?" Was the stupid answer that rolled over my tongue too fast to catch it.

Patrick chuckled and kissed me again but retreated too fast for me to even close my eyes.

"Because right now I want more than kiss you."

A giggle escaped me because I didn't know how to react otherwise. I was flattered as well as overwhelmed by my own cravings.

"You're so beautiful." He breathed a kiss on my blushing cheek before he sat up and pulled me with him. My brain spun from endorphins and getting up too fast. Patrick wanted us to sit on the porch step for a little while longer for whatever reason. While we caught our breaths again, he had his arm around my waist. He coughed slightly to diffuse the sudden silence.

I drew circles on Patrick's jeans that stayed in the dust that had accumulated on the fabric during the workday.

"Have you done it before?" I asked out of the blue because my mind wouldn't leave the more subject alone.

Patrick froze and cleared his throat again. "What do you mean?" He clearly played for time but I let him get away with lying about not knowing what I meant. He must be very desperate to not brag about his ability to know what everyone was thinking.

"Sex," I said point-blank. I made sure not to look at him even though I felt his eyes resting on me.

"Do you want me to be honest, or...?" He tried to joke his way out of this but I was too curious to let him off the hook.

That was the moment I broke the promise of not giving in to the urge to look at him. I was prepared to be put off by the look in his eyes or some more joking, but nothing like that happened.

"Of course."

Patrick unconsciously took my hand and held it between his like he had bad news for me. My heart sagged although I tried to fight it.

He started with an 'ok' and needed another minute of breathing. "I did have sex before." His voice was low like he expected me to lash out at him. And I didn't know what to say next because I had so many questions but I didn't want to make his fears come true.

"Ok." Was what I finally went with. Not ideal and I was painfully aware of that.

"You want to know more, so please ask already!" Patrick almost begged me. His pulse racing against my hand. And I placed a second one over ours as a way of reassuring him that I won't be angry with him. I really hoped that I wouldn't be, but in my chest, there was already a war of jealousy and intrigue raging. Who had dared to touch him like I wanted to before I got the chance to? What did he do with her? Did he hug her and tell her she was beautiful like he told me? My mind went wild with images of him touching another girl, enjoying her, making the same sounds he made when I kissed him. Did his moan change with lesser clothes on?

"Who was she?" I carefully selected the pitch of my voice although I couldn't stop it from trembling. Imaginary girls flashed behind my eyes. Townie girls, tall, pretty, thin. Giggling and searching for a kick in their boring smalltown lives, seducing Patrick during a reading. I experienced it first hand how bewitching his cunningness and charm were.

"The first girl, I met in the youth center they put me in. She was a resident there, too. I thought I was in love with her but looking back I was just stupid and alone."

The fact that there was even a first and second and maybe more, made me anxious. I had kissed him without knowing anything about kissing and he had all this experience with everything. What if I did something wrong? Did he ever think about what the other girls did differently? Maybe their lips were softer or their breath smelled better. Suddenly I was self-conscious about everything I did.

Patrick felt my insecurity and started caressing each of my fingers individually.

"The second was a townie I met right before I came back. I spent the night with her one time."

"Because you were alone?" I hissed and regretted it immediately.

"It was more like me trying to be rebellious. Doing what I wanted. After I spent my life fulfilling someone else's wishes. I realize that that wasn't exactly the right decision."

I nodded.

"Listen, Annie. I don't want it to change anything. For me, it changes nothing." He waited for me to reply but I didn't. I stared at the house across the street.

"I know you feel different." He stated.

"The infuriating part is that I don't even know why," I admitted and let my hands go limp in his grasp.

"Should I have told you beforehand? We can go as slow as you want to. I don't have any expectations about... that." Patrick's voice decreased in volume when a middle-aged man walked by, staring at us awkwardly. The man's expression was probably the exact replica of what I felt right now.

"No! That's not it." I spluttered. How I wished, we wouldn't have this conversation right now. Placarding the whole town didn't seem so bad anymore. "It's just that... I thought it was special. It felt special to me. What we did." I rolled my eyes at myself. what we did. Like we did anything but kissing. It was close nothing for him. He saw other girls naked already. Felt them. I retreated my hands to wrap my arms around myself.

He let his heels slide along the pavement until his legs were straight in front of him.

"I'm sorry you feel this way. For me it is special. Every time you grant me a kiss is special. And I love kissing you. But that should be fairly obvious."

I didn't reply.

"You're quick to judge for someone who kisses townies to make me jealous." He said more lightheartedly than the words themselves sounded.

Now even if I wanted to answer, I couldn't think of anything. I was a mix of hurt and angry. Mostly because he was right. I was in no position to judge.

"At least I didn't sleep with him because I was lonely." His eyes darkened in response but I continued. "Or should I have done that? Apparently, that's the thing to do."

After that, we were both left speechless and staring at the house on the other side of the street. We resembled the dead house we were sitting in front of. Unmoving, empty staring through hollow eyes and crushed by our own weight.

My mind was thinking painfully slow. I wanted to apologize. But my pride was like a rock that drowned me in myself. I knew I needed to apologize.

"Annie, everything I said is still true." Patrick was first to try and start a new conversation.

"Stop," I said too fast, almost sounding angry again. Angry with myself. I tried more thoroughly this time: "Please, stop. I know I'm wrong and I'm sorry. I'm just. I don't know anything about anything." I almost smiled at my own incoherent sentences. "I've never done any of this before."

"I know." Patrick breathed in between my sentences.

"I don't know how to do anything. I don't want to be compared to anybody. I know I'm not perfect at this. But I thought you weren't either, so it didn't matter."

For a moment, Patrick stared at me, to then commence in a serious voice. "It hurts my ego a bit that you think I'm not perfect at this." His sentence was overshadowed by his signature grin towards the end.

"This is not funny!" I exhaled indignantly, nudging him to distract from my burning red cheeks.

"You're right. It's not." He could barely control his smile.

"Did you tell the others what you told me, too?" This question deleted his cheerfulness from his face once again.

"The second one wasn't like that. The first one... I did say some things. Although I realized early on that I didn't mean any of them." At least I contented myself in the fact that he didn't see any sense in lying to me.

"Do you still mean what you said to me?" I looked at him sheepishly.

He immediately met me with a "God yes. Everything."

I smiled to myself, wringing my hands in my lap.

"You're still amazingly beautiful when you blush like that. And I still want to make love to you; But I'm also happy with just kissing you until you're ready, maybe even until we're married if that's your wish."

I was amazed by his ability to speak such words without stuttering or blushing. "I think I'm too curious for that."

The corners of his lips twitched and he dared to take my hand again. "I'm looking forward to exploring with you together." The way he said it, he followed the lines of my veins on the inside of my forearm with his finger. "Whenever you're ready."