Chapter 34: A Girl’s Room

The walk to the front door was short, and it lasted a year. My hands did not feel like my hands. The key scraped the lock twice, missed the slot, scraped again. I laughed, a thin nervous sound that belonged to a person who had invited a man inside and then forgotten how doors worked.

I had never done this. I had never brought a boy home. No. I corrected it in my own head while the key fought me: I had never brought a man home. Justin had always been his house, a friend’s house, the back seat of his car. The most I had ever done in my own bedroom with him was make out a few times, clothes on, listening for the garage. Now I was leading someone on purpose. I did not know where to put my feet. I did not know where to put the fact that I wanted to.