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I was captivated. I should have said something that night but I never got you alone and I wasn’t confident to approach you with other people around. Luckily the first barrier was now passed and it was easier to talk to you at the school or at the socials that we all enjoyed, we talked more often and seemed to enjoy each other’s company, laughing at our language differences and joking about our tastes in music and clothes. Music led us to exchanging addresses, I remember promising to send you the latest New Order double tape, that for some reason you couldn’t get in the States, you promised to send a Def Leppard tape — not that I was into Def Leppard but it was a chance to keep in touch with you so I took it. Sadly a week or so later the exchange ended and I returned home to England, the extent of our time together being memories and a couple of photos. I was thrilled and surprised to get a letter from you within a couple of days of being back in the UK, air mail normally takes about. I wondered if I would ever want anyone else again. We paused and he broke away from me, not letting go of my head. He stared into my eyes as if he was trying to figure something out. Trying to figure me out. If anyone else would have done this I would have felt violated, but not him. I would have gladly opened myself up to him if he would have asked. Or if I would have given him the proper chance. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. “What?” “Why, I want to be bonded to you.” One hand left my hair and gently moved down my face, lovingly, almost. “I hate you so fucking much, but I want you so bad.” I opened my mouth to ask why he hated me but closed it. Yet again it was obvious. After all he was right; night after night he watched as I basically whored myself out to anyone who paid attention to me, yet the one guy who was constantly with me, I had never given a second thought to, and even openly rejected. His eyes shined a bright red as I felt someone take my hands and bring them.
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