Memorizing You by Dan Skinner Page A

something. I can’t remember what. I can’t even remember looking at the set. My vision had turned internal. I was staring at Ryan’s profile outlined by the morning sun. The single tear trailing down a cheek. Feeling the turmoil he was going through, and standing there saying nothing when I should have said something. Even now, I didn’t have a clue what I could, or should, have said. But I knew that I admired him. He could do something I could not.
    There was not a situation I could imagine where I could muster the courage to tell anyone my personal secrets; my hidden heart.
    Her hand tightened on mine, obviously sensing that my attention was elsewhere. “I like you, David,” she said in a cotton-soft voice.
    I heard the clock tick off the seconds where my answer should have been. Her hand squeezed mine harder. She expected a response.
    “I like you too, Rosemary.” My throat was so parched the words were barely audible.
    “I liked you the very first day I saw you walk into the English class. You made my heart skip a beat. It was like looking at my future,” she babbled the words out so quickly she was difficult to follow. “I knew something would happen to bring us together. It just felt so natural; don’t you think?” was elsewhere aup
    If there was one thing I wasn’t feeling at that moment, it was anything natural. It was more akin to that of a captive animal.
    “Why don’t you turn off the TV and let’s go up to your room,” she said, her palm rubbing my chest.
    It was now or never. I’d started this, and for it to work, I had to follow it through to the end. I told myself I would be happy for this. That it was the right way to go. But underneath that false bravado was the feeling that I was lying. That I was lying to both Rosemary and to myself. Every step upward I knew how important this was to my parents. That I was treating my dilemma as if it were a bad cold that could be cured with a pill. The pill was Rosemary.
    She urged me to the bed and I sat. She sat next to me and stared into my eyes.
    “I’ve been wanting to do this all week,” she said, framing my face with her hands, pulling me toward her mouth.
    I’d no clue what to do with my hands. They hung limply at my sides as she pressed her lips against mine and pushed her tongue into my mouth. It was a strange, foreign feeling. I kept thinking it would be nice if she stopped. It was nothing how I imagined a kiss should be. But she continued to push her tongue in and out of my mouth. It may have been seconds, but it seemed much longer.
    She was gazing into my eyes. Hers glittered. “That was as wonderful as I imagined,” she said in a dreamy voice. “Wasn’t it?”
    I had no choice but to lie. “Sure,” I said. My guilt was immediate.
    Her hands wiggled up under the back of my shirt and she held them against my naked flesh. Her hands were like velvet. She pressed the side of her head against me like she was listening to my heartbeat.
    “There’s nothing I won’t do for you, David. Do you know that?” It came like a purr. “I’ll do anything you want.”
    I was in some other guy’s version of heaven. Guys who would be titillated by the affections of a pretty girl willing to do anything they desired. I, however, was numb.
    She took my hands and coaxed them up her shirt to her breasts and left them there. They felt like soft mounds until her nipples hardened under my palms. I assumed that was a good thing. She moaned like it was. She nuzzled my chest with her nose. I used my thumbs to stroke her nipples. She made cooing sounds. The enjoyment of these moments was still apparently one-sided.
    I tried to picture Greg’s face. It eluded me. I tried to remember that day we rode bikes; how he rubbed cold cream on my back. It was fruitless. Greg didn’t want to be here in this situation. No matter how hard I tried, he stayed away. I was on my own.
    “God, I love being with you,” she said in half moan, half whisper as she kissed my