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palms had magnets in them or something. My hand

practically floated into his and next thing I knew, we

were walking toward his room, neither of us saying a

word.

"When we got there, he let go and flopped on

his bed, on his back, looking up at the ceiling with his

hands behind his head.

"'I guess you know what it's like for me laying

around in my room and hearing my father bang into

things when he comes home from a night out there,'

he said. 'I hear him cursing and ranting. Sometimes, I

can hear him crying through the wall. That's how he

comes down from a drunk.'

"'He feels bad about what happened with your

mother,' I said.

"Steve opened his eyes wider and looked at me. "'Yeah, I suppose,' he said. 'Maybe that's why

he drinks more and more now, to forget. Only, I don't

think it helps you forget. I think it makes it come

back, only like some. . . some nightmare.'

"'I suppose you're right,' I said.

"I sat beside him and he brought his hands around and took my right hand into his and just held it, studying my fingers as if they was something special. Then he looked up at me again, his eyes practically speaking to me, drawing me toward him. I didn't even realize I had leaned so far over we were

close enough to kiss again until we did.

"Suddenly I was beside him on the bed and he

was hovering over me, his face so serious it made my

heart skip beats until he brought his lips to mine again

and then, when he touched me and unbuttoned my

blouse, my heart felt more like a wild, frantic animal

in my chest, thundering hard against my ribs. I was

scared but excited.

"It didn't take long to get half undressed. The

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