Words can trick us. Smoke obscures objects on the edge of our vision. A mirror may reflect, but the eye sees what it wants. A delicate scent can evoke another time and place, a memory from the past. And a sentence can deceive you, even as you read it.
It took her four months to let me kiss her. And every night I’d go home and jerk off to the thought of her. In those four months though, her skin cleared and she did some shit to her hair to make it less like a fuzzball. “Your hair’s not so fucked up any more.” I caught myself too late saying something that I shouldn’t have. “Pardon?” she asked as she whipped her head around to glare at me. Man, she was fuckin’ cute when she was pissed off. But I knew I had to try harder if I wanted to keep her. I even stopped getting pussy from other girls, because Nadine was who I wanted. And not for a week or month, but a lifetime. “I meant, your hair looks nice like that,” I said. She let out a snort and shook her head. “Thanks,” she said as she put her hand over mine and linked our fingers together. “Nadine, I really wanna kiss you,” I blurted out. Her eyes looked into mine. As we sat in her old, shitty, beat-up car at the drive-in, she leaned over and kissed me. That was the end of me. Her softness was all around me, and I needed to be as close to her as possible. There was something about her, her innocence, her gentle, shy nature, and her pure heart fuckin’ took me and twisted everything inside.