Girl Against the Universe

It’s easier to blame someone than to accept that sometimes we’re all powerless.

“Look, I know I don’t own you because we kissed. You’re free to kiss whoever you want.” He sighs. “But I don’t want you to kiss anyone else, which I know is selfish. I just—right now my folks would freak about me getting distracted, and I don’t know what to do.”

“You were really scared for me, eh?”
“Yeah.”
“Because you like me.”
“Maybe,” I admit.

I want more than that, but I know I can’t keep pulling him close and then pushing him away when I get scared.

He smells like a mix of sweat and Christmas trees, a blend that’s strangely appealing.

Is it me, or is my mom the only mom in the history of ever who told her kid to spend less time reading and more time being social? Doesn’t she know the chances of me getting drunk, pregnant, and/or arrested are much lower if I never leave my room?