“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “But you do want to kiss me.” “I really, truly do.” “Be careful, then,” he said. So I kissed him. Carefully. Supporting my weight on one arm, and resting the palm of my other hand against the contour of his unshaven neck. I could feel his pulse, simple and steady, and I let myself feel so grateful—so unabashedly grateful—that it was there. When I pulled back to take in the sight of him, he said, “Don’t stop.”
