"Well that's random." He said, blinking slowly as he sat in the black leather desk chair that was turned away from the desk and the computer that has his essay pulled up.

"What's random?" She asked, legs crossed Indian style on the bed that had white snowmen on a blue background for sheets, a textbook open in her lap.

"You working." He replied, eyes full of joy, with a grin that showed his teeth.

"Haha." She stuck her tongue out at him and threw a purple fluffy fuzzy flower shaped pillow at him.

He picked up the pillow and placed it on his head like a hat.

She turned a page in the book. "You don't have to be so mean, you know." She stretched and he threw the pillow back at her.

Dramatically, she fell backwards on the bed.

He stood up and walked over so that he was staring down at her.

"Yes?" She asked, trying to look as innocent as possible. He leaned down and kissed her, his hand slipping up her shirt. She grabbed his arm and his face paled as he pulled away.

"I'm sorry…" he mumbled, brushing her shirt back into place and backing away towards the desk.

She sighed and sat back up, legs dangling over the side of the bed now.

He sat in the desk chair again and turned back to his essay.

She walked over with the textbook, closed, and placed it on the desk. His eyes stayed focused on the screen. She picked the textbook back up.

"Did I do something wrong?" She quietly asked.

He shook his head.

"Then why'd you.. ya know… stop?" Her eyes were full of tears waiting to be spilled with the wrong answer.

He paused in his typing. "I don't want to hurt you." He answered after thinking about it for a few seconds.

She plopped down on the floor next to him. "What makes you think you're going to hurt me?"

"It doesn't matter… I just don't want to hurt you…"

She stood up and crossed her arms. "Fine. Just don't expect me to talk to you."

He sighed as she headed over to the bed and lay down on her back, head on the flower pillow, arms out beside her, as if she was making a snow angel.

He turned away from the computer and watched her, both of them motionless. Finally he walked over and stared down at her, face serious. He held his hand out to her. After a few moments, she delicately placed her hand into his, and gently pulled him down to her.

He positioned himself so that he was lying on top of her, kissing her: her lips, her cheeks, her neck, down to where her skin met the collar of her shirt.

"I don't want to hurt you…" He repeated, as he moved down to her stomach, lifting up her shirt and kissing upwards as he took it off.

"I know…" he replied, "But the first time almost always does…"

you fit into me

like a hook into an eye

a fish hook

an open eye

-Margaret Atwood