“I have an exam, remember?” I open the fridge and take out a carton of OJ. I slam the door and when I turn around, he is caging me in, bracing the counter from each side of my waist, his mouth so close to mine I can see the dimple in the center of his full lower lip. He stares me down predatorily. My heart is in my throat. My soul is most probably in my eyes. And I am scared. Completely, utterly, and desperately frightened of what he can do to me if I let my guard down. If I let him.
