Sean

It's Time To quit overthinking.

Quit plotting. Planning.

Worrying about outcomes.

Time for action. Reaction.

Putting things into motion.

Emotion, something it isn't easy for me to communicate.

But there's more. l.u.s.t.

This snarling inner animal.

Always in the past I have controlled.

it. For her. But pleasing a girl is confusing. You can be on your best behavior and still not make her happy. And she won't tell you what's going on in- side her head. You generally find out the hard way. So I'm taking a risk. But it's definitely time.

I Have Never Insisted On Cara having s.e.x with me.

She didn't seem ready for the longest time, and being in love with her meant more than getting off with her.

It was enough to hold her.

Kiss her. Inhale the "her"

of her. Enough to gather in the heat of her skin, knowing that she was mine.

Then something changed.

That night in the truck, something had opened inside her-some sudden bloom of womanhood I didn't expect. She was a wildcat, come into season-enough to drive any man crazy, and that's what I became when I couldn't give her what she wanted. Practically begged for. Betrayed by my own body! Thank G.o.d she didn't think I was gay or something. She gave me another chance, and tonight we will make serious love right here, right now, on Chad's sweat-reeking, not real comfortable couch.

Those girls on the TV are beautiful. But I've got the real deal, stripped down to nothing but skin, beneath me. She moves like an eel. Sinuous. Cautious.

My kiss is a question.

Her tongue answers.

Now she pushes my head lower, asking for much more.

She tastes of soap and salt.

A knockout combination.

It makes me high. Makes me thirsty. Makes me hungry for even more. This could easily become addiction.

Tonight my body hints zero treachery. Tonight it wants to go for hours.

"I love you," I promise, though she can't doubt it.

I prove it with my mouth.

My fingers. My tongue.

This is her first time, so I want her to be ready, and I think she has to be.

"I don't want to hurt you," I tell her. "Ever."

She is flushed, her skin hot as summer sand.

I'm crazy again, this time with the need to make this all real. I lift myself over her, working forearms.

Biceps. She closes her eyes, moans as I move into place right up against her sweet spot. Pause at the resistance.

"I need you," I say, before kissing her. Before going all the way with her. One push and we will be joined in the most amazing way.

Connected by love. Now.

I have to have her now.

But just as I test the barrier, everything screaming yes, go, she opens her eyes.

And out of her mouth comes a single word: No.

I Heard Her Wrong I know I did, and even if I didn't, I know she means now, not no, so I go ahead and push. Hard. Oh. Oh.

And her eyes pop wide and she screams, Stop. I said no. Stop, G.o.dd.a.m.n it. And her little fists try to pound against my chest, which only feels good and I can't stop, even if I wanted to, and I so don't, so I won't.

And she starts to cry and I don't understand so I tell her, over and over again, "I love you. I love you.

I love you." Rhythmic.

In perfect time with my body's rhythmic beat.

"I love you. I love you..."

There's A Strange Buzzing In my ears. With a final thrust, there's a brilliant flash and the emptying is syncopated. My head clears as the mist slowly lifts.

And I see what I have done.

Cara lies, stiff as old toast, tear-glossed eyes staring up at me. I told you no, she whispers. Why...?

f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k. What the h.e.l.l just happened?

"You wanted this! You told me so. In fact, you practically raped me...."

She sobs, and her entire body shakes with the force of it. No. You raped me.

Her voice slices, tempered steel. I told you to stop.

DNA Evidence Soaks into Chad's lumpy sofa in sticky, red ropes.

But I didn't rape her.

"Cara. We both wanted this. I love you so much.

Please don't say I raped you. I've waited for this for months and months, until I was sure you were ready. And I was more than sure tonight." Cable TV moans and groans remind us both of how this little episode went down. I nod toward the noise. "You even liked..."

She strong-arms me aside, jumps up, stalks over to turn off the tube, blood trickling down her legs.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. You set me up.

I have no idea what she means.

Sudden anger is a tornado, hurtling through my veins.

"Look. I'm not sure exactly what happened here, but you are everything to me. Even if you weren't, you have to realize you can't get a guy all worked up, then tell him to stop. It's not fair."

Cara s.n.a.t.c.hes her clothes from the floor, stomps off to find the bathroom.

Rule one of the Rapist's Handbook. Blame the victim.

I run to catch her, grab her shoulders, swing her around, pinch her cheeks.

"You shut the f.u.c.k up, hear me? I. Did. Not. Rape. You."

When I Let Go Of her face, crimson finger- shaped marks remain. Jesus.

"I'm sorry, Cara. Really, I am." I reach for her, but she slaps my hand away.

Don't touch me. Ever again.

I can't believe I trusted you enough to be here like this with you. Can't believe I thought I was in love with you. Stupid!

"Cara, please. I didn't mean to hurt you. I wanted to make you feel special.

You are in love with me.

You have to be. I-I..."

Her lips curl in a feral snarl.

May I go now? I'd like to get rid of the... residue. She doesn't wait for an answer, but leaves me to consider what all this means. Have I lost her? No way, right? She'll think things over, and understand that this was a mutual f.u.c.kup.

Of course she will. And I'll figure out a way to make it all up to her.

Losing Cara would mean losing pretty much everything good about me. I've programmed my entire existence around constructing a life with her.

College. Career. Marriage.

Family. Together. With Cara.

Because what good are any of those things alone?

She Emerges From the bathroom, ghostlike.

Pale. Silent. A colorless shadow.

"Give me a few and I'll take you home." I really need to pee.

And it would probably be good not to have any residue on me, either. I run the water hot, wash traces of blood from me. Chase them all the way down the drain. I want to puke.

Instead I get dressed. Comb my hair. Pull myself together.

She will forgive me. I'm sure she will. But even before I open the scarred white door, I know she is gone. Amplified by the empty room, the whoosh in my ears is deafening. I could run after her, try to find her.

But what good would it do?

Andre

What Good Can come of one-sidedness?

A house with a single side is nothing more than a wall.

Not much in the way of shelter.

What good is there in chasing rainbows?

Even if you found yourself haloed with prismatic light, would it promise a happy ending?

Could an ending do anything but break your heart? And yet, what good would it do to shutter your windows, never dream of rainbows or find hope in promises? Why choose to walk away rather than hold your ground and fight for love?