She dragged her fingers up to my elbow, saying, almost to herself, “So soft.” My skin became the glass globe of a plasma ball as light from her fingertips flickered inside me. If there was any weed in my system, I was sure my racing heart would metabolize it in minutes. Desires, the existence of which I hadn’t admitted even to myself, coalesced into shapes that terrified me. I froze. If I’d giggled and feigned ticklishness, if I’d touched her the way she was touching me, I could have steered that night in a different direction.
