I’m all in his space, and his face is clutched in my hands. And he’s soft, so soft. But sharp too. Angular. Boy, boy, boy. Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy. Wide, startled eyes stare back at me, and I’m vaguely aware of his arms falling at his sides, the bottle slipping from his grip. “What—” I yank his face to me— “Shut up. Just. Shut. Up.” —and crush my mouth to his, smothering his gasp.
