" Had her phone number already written out for you," Mom nodded. "That definitely qualifies as premeditated." Were things that different went you were...in school I would've thought that a girl who carries around copies of her phone number, who walks around and dispenses them would have always been known as a. as a . " A slut" Mom inquired. She snorted. "I never meant to imply that she wasn't a slut! What's her name?" How should I know" I held the paper up. "The saddest sight in all the world: a. So, it’s my fault she got hurt.”Wow. That’s fucked up. “So sorry. That’s messed up.”She stands and I catch a glimpse of a tear before she turns away and wipes it with her finger tip. “I should go make sure the proofs are ready.” She says and hurriedly starts to pick up her things.“Wait.” I say, standing and taking her hand. What the fuck am I doing? She looks at her hand and back at my face. I feel her move her fingers up my forearm lightly. It feels so, so good. I blink slowly and exhale. Is. More

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