The Rachel Incident

by Caroline O'Donoghue

On top of all that, he was the only man I’d met who made me feel petite, and to feel protective over someone who physically towers over you is a hell of a drug.

I did not want a boyfriend; I did want romance. I wanted passion; I did not want to be someone who was known as easy. I was desperate to be touched; I was terrified of being ruined.

“…I’m with him,” I finished. “Ah,” she said, and seemed tickled at this early-twenties problem of having a man in your life whose role you cannot name.