Using my grip on his shirt, I tug him closer and we fall back onto the couch together, me on my back with him on top of me. He balances his weight on his forearms as he hovers over me, caging me in with his massive biceps and firm hips. There is nowhere I’d rather be in this moment. Which is crazy right? I should be mad at him. And maybe I am a little, but I’ve spent months agonizing over that night. Now the only thing that makes sense is erasing that memory with a better one.
