Gyldendal

Arms wrap around my waist from behind and I’m preparing to start throwing punches

she turns and lowers herself back into my lap, straddling me.

I haven’t even had a first date.

He finally stops right in front of me; I widen my knees and he steps into the space they create, his body dangerously close to mine.

placing my hands over his, as I lift myself up and sink down a little more, then again, until I’m finally taking most of him. My nails dig into his chest, his fingers sink into my skin and the sound of our bodies slapping together echoes around the room.

“Just go over and talk to him.”

“And let him ignore me with an audience? No thanks.”

My hands cling to her thighs, which are warming my ears, and her hand is intwined in my hair while her other swishes the paintbrush against the wood.

It’s more of a squeal than a scream as I close the gap between us with a couple of strides. She tries to cling to the hose, turning her back to me to protect it. Her body is flush against my wet t-shirt, vibrating as she laughs, attempting to fight me off. It’s not hard to grab it from her and point it downward over the top of her head.

“Just ask me, sweetheart. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

“I learned a long time ago that if I didn’t put myself first, that nobody else was going to. Forgiving people who repeatedly let you down is like sticking your hand in a fire over and over and expecting it to not keep burning you.”