It was strange.

I know that we were talking and yet I have no idea what about.

I was too busy drinking in the sight of her to care.

I don't know if anything that I was saying was even making sense, but she didn't seem to notice.

I have a feeling that we're on the same page.

I count the freckles on the bridge of her nose, sure that there are two extras from the last time I saw her.

I've always loved her sprinkling of freckles.

It's like they make her human.

If they weren't there, then she'd be too perfect.

Too perfect and totally unattainable.

But she was totally unattainable anyhow.

At least to me.

She was off limits.

She'd had her nails done and they had small white flowers on the tips.

I watched every movement she made, wanting to drink it all in and commit it to memory, so that when I was lying in bed late at night, I could recall it all again.

I lost track of the passage of time, just enjoying being with her until she asked the fateful question.

"Could I ... could I touch you?" she asked tentatively.

Her fingers were wrapped about her now empty cup and were perfectly still ...

I gulped.

What exactly was she asking, a part of my brain wanted to know?

There was a part saying, HELL YES!

And still another saying, NO WAY IN THE WORLD! You'll be lost forever.

Noticing my hesitation, she went on to explain.

"It's just that this, being here with you, it all seems like a dream. I've wanted it so much that I'm scared that I've conjured you up with my imagination. If I could just touch you, touch your hand, maybe I could believe that it's real."

"I'm sure that if your mind was conjuring me up, then I would at least be clean," I say embarrassedly, looking at the state of my clothes.

"I couldn't care less what you're wearing. It's what's underneath that counts," she said and then blushed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to be suggestive," she apologised. "I meant that just because I live in Newport doesn't mean that I can't see what really makes a man, and clothes definitely don't matter."

I nod my understanding.

I slowly stretch my arm out towards her and she does the same, until the tips of our fingers touch.

We both quickly retract our fingers as the sparks threaten to ignite.

But our hands stay put.

We both want to go back for another try.

I tentatively stretch my fingers out again and she does likewise.

This time it's better.

Much better.

I want to thread my fingers through hers and hold her hand tight.

But I can't.

Theresa has a baby growing inside her.

And it might be mine.

I notice her glance at the clock on the wall. It's six-thirty.

"When do you have to go?" I ask, not ready yet for this to end, yet knowing at the same time that it should.

"I'm in no hurry. What about you? When are you expected home?"

I cringe at the use of the word.

Surely that place that I go to at nights isn't my 'home'.

My home is with her.

In Newport.

Living with Theresa is my 'punishment'.

My own private hell.

Made even worse by the fact that Theresa is so accepting of everything.

I'd almost rather that she got angry, or depressed, or ... something.

I bring myself back to the moment. I don't want to spoil this time by thinking about Theresa.

There will be plenty of time for that later.

"Probably around eight. Do you have time to grab a burger or something?" I ask.

"Sure. I'll have you know that I've lost weight lately, so I'm trying to eat more."

"I noticed. Why are you losing weight?" I ask. She didn't have much to lose.

She shrugs her shoulders.

"I seem to have lost my appetite," came her reply.

I know the feeling well. It seems that there is always a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach these days.

"But a burger sounds great," she continues, "And maybe we can get a sundae too?" she suggested. "Suddenly I'm feeling hungry," she added smiling.

"That's good. But I only have about twelve dollars left on me; I wasn't expecting to be going out tonight, so the sundae might have to wait for next time."

"There's going to be a next time?" she asked. Her eyes were like saucers and her expression eager.

What have I done?

There shouldn't be a next time.

There shouldn't even be a this time.

But I feel more alive right now than I've felt in weeks.

"I guess that's up to you. I don't have a car. But if you wanted to visit every now and then … I couldn't really stop you."

"But you'd meet me?"

I roll the idea around in my head knowing that I should say no. But I'm fighting a losing battle.

"As long as we can keep it to ourselves and not upset Theresa, then I can't see why not."

It feels so good to be spending time with her.

I feel alive again.

"Okay," she said with a grin. "But the burgers are my treat. You bought the coffees. Actually, they're really Caleb's treat, since he's the one that pays for my allowance," she explains and a large smile forms on her face. "I'm sure that he'd love to spend his money on you."