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She nods. Her fingers skim my cheek. It's so soft and warm. She's here. She's mine.

"Mom promised to drive me to the homecoming dance. I had no way of getting to school that late. Walking at night was questionable, and it way too cold in November to do it in a dress and heels."

I see where this is going.

"I didn't even ask her. She promised. She said she wanted to see me dressed up. To see me blossom into a woman. I should have known better when she broke her promise to take me shopping for a dress. She woke up late, hungover, and started drinking early."

I squeeze her fingers, soaking in the sweetness of her touch. If only she was always this comfortable, if she'd always talk to me...

"The night of homecoming, I put on my dress and makeup. I did my hair. She was going to take pictures. But when I came downstairs, she was already drunk. She'd been home an hour and she was already drunk. She forgot what day it was. Asked where the hell I thought I was going dressed like a slut."

I brush her hair from her eyes, soaking in everything about her, about the moment. That's Alyssa, my Alyssa, and she's sharing something she's never told anyone.

"She told me to change. I accused her of being drunk. Locked myself in my room, crying my eyes out. It was half an hour into the dance when he called me."

I fight my urge to cringe. She's paying careful attention to my expression, to make sure I can handle this.

I have to prove I can.

"He sounds like a polite young man," I say.

"He was," she says. "He knew I was excited about the dance and he wanted to make sure I was okay. To make sure nothing had happened."

I bite my tongue. So teenage Ryan was sweet to teenage Alyssa. It doesn't matter. He's not here now.

"I told him I wasn't in the mood anymore, and he asked if I'd like some company. I think I whispered 'yes,' because he came all the way to my house, and he sat with me in my room for hours, while my mom was passed out on the couch. He didn't make a big deal of it. Other guys, they would have tried to fuck me. To at least get my top off. Other guys had before..."

She looks at me with concern. I must not be hiding how awful this is.

"I can stop," she says.

"It's fine."

"The story doesn't end with me having sex with Ryan. I promise."

My muscles relax ever so slightly. She laughs. So I am obvious.

"You're awful," she says.

"I don't like thinking of you hurting. Especially not some creep taking advantage of it."

"You mean the kind of creep who seduces an engaged woman after she gets into a huge fight with her fiancé?"

I nod. "Exactly that kind of creep."

She leans into me, wrapping her arms around me. We breathe together for a moment, nothing in the world except the two of us.

"He spent the whole night with me. We watched TV for a while, but we eventually fell asleep on my bed. Completely clothed." She looks out the window. "He's the only guy who was ever nice to me without expecting to get something out of it."

I run my hands through her hair. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"It was nothing."

"It was a lot."

She shakes her head again, but she doesn't verbalize her objection.

"So," I say. "Did you mean that thing you said to your mother?"

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