Read an Excerpt from Finding What Is

From Chapter 3:
Xavier was her most potent addiction. She met him while working as a Student Service Learner in her high school’s office. He had been new, and had been brought in for calling a teacher a “prick”. Apparently, Mr. Kanokee had reduced a fellow classmate to tears over a botched oral presentation. Xavier told him that perhaps, if he had been getting a little more “oral” in his free time, then maybe he wouldn’t be such a prick.
He repeated all of this to the office staff, in a swaggering, offhanded manner that reminded Willie of those old Marlon Brando-rebel movies that she loved. She sat behind the secretary’s desk, pretending to work on filing, and took him in: his hair draped down his shoulder blades and was a rich, chocolate brown with flecks of gold. He had sleepy blue eyes and a full mouth, as beautiful as a woman’s. His left arm was sleeve tattooed, and a small, silver ring adorned his bottom lip. His clothes were worn, but clean.
Xavier went to in-school suspension willingly that day, but not before making Ms. Hannel blush by telling her how beautiful she looked, and winking at Willie, who had worn a smirk on her mouth while watching the scene unfold, telling herself how much of a prick Mr. Kanokee really was, and it was about time someone said it.
The next day, he found her eating lunch by herself, under the row of maple trees at the far end of the school lawn, next to the chainlink fence that separated the academic world from the rest of the real world. It was the place she went to be alone sometimes, when she wanted to avoid the lunchroom idiocy, which was most days if she were honest.
He curled up beside her without saying a word, helping himself to half of her sandwich. He pulled a green apple and a small paring knife out of his pocket. She accepted the pieces that he cut and handed to her.
Finally, he looked at her and said, “I’ve been waiting to do this since yesterday.”
“What?”
Xavier looked at her in that deep, soulful way that can only be accomplished by beautiful, reckless men. He brushed her hair off of her shoulders and smoothed it down her back. Drawing her into his taut arms, he kissed her, his tongue coursing over hers in firm waves, their mouths coming apart in small gasps, each absence pulling them toward one another more desperately. Willie inhaled the power of his arms around her, the firmness of his chest beneath her fingers, the surprising smell of oranges in his hair.
Theirs had been a mutual decision that day; to not ask or demand any more from the other than this.