Yes, I wanted to see her again. She was mine. In our secluded, secret little world, she was mine. I wanted to watch her dance, and I wanted to steal her away a thousand more times to feel her excitement and fear and live through how vulnerable and sweet she was, but . . . I wanted to keep her happy, pure, and innocent, too. I didn’t want to ruin her. The more time we spent together, and the older she got, the more this would turn into something else. We’d eventually fuck, and she’d make demands I couldn’t fulfill. When she found out who I was, she’d run.
