Set the Record Straight

by Hannah Bonam-Young

If I had to pinpoint it—if I was asked at this exact moment—I’d say my sexuality is the corner of Evan’s lips. It’s the gasps she makes that act as a windstorm in my chest. It’s the space between her fingers where I fit better than anywhere else. It’s all instinct here. Intuition. And I’ve been waiting my whole life for this rush. So I’m not questioning it anymore.

“Fuck me in this closet, Ev. Make me come. I’ll be so quiet, I promise. I’ll be so good for you.”

Then, unsure of what to do, I use one of Natalie and Lisa’s spare towels from the shelf to wipe my hand clean. It felt good, I’ll admit it. A little final act of vengeance. But only because I’m ready to move on now. Ready to never look back.

“Come on… let it go. Let it out. Scream for me, Evan. Tell this town who owns you. Who makes you feel this good. Please.”