Rules for Orion

chapter twenty-three

Twenty-three: Logan
October 2, 8:40 PM. Dwyer, VA.

Avery kisses me as soon as he can. His teeth are too harsh on my lip, but I don't say anything. I've met him in the dry well again. He's pressed me up against the basement door before I can even say hello. He's good at this. He's really, really good at this. Something in the depths of my guts feels wrong, wrong, wrong.
It takes my brain a while to get from AveryAveryAveryAvery to you're kind of supposed to be mad at him. Once I get there, though, I push him back. Just a little. I can't let myself get too far away from this.
I say, "Hi."
He half-grins. Something's off. "Hello." His forearm's on the back of my neck, his other hand half up beneath my shirt. His palm is frigid on my skin. "I do not think I have ever told you how attractive you are."
Jesus Christ. Okay. Okay. "No, you—I have things to ask you."
And he's off me. "I have things to tell you. But you go first."
"Okay." I consider bringing him inside. It just seems fucked up. "I—"
"—Wait, sorry, stop." He looks me up and down for a bit; leans in, kisses me for just under two seconds, pulls back. He tucks his thumbs into his pockets. "Alright."
Silence. I don't want to be mad at him. I don't want to not trust him.
He says, "Go on."
I close and open and close and open my fists where I think he can't see. "Where are you from?"
He startles for just a second. Less than a second. Half a second. "The District of Columbia."
Okay. Holding up. Okay. Okay. (I don't want to not trust him.) "How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
I stare long and hard at a darker spot on his cheekbone. I don't want to not trust him. "Right."
I want to trust him, so I pretend I do.
I say, "Let's go inside."

We don't talk. I finally sleep with his bare stomach under my arm, hipbone close to my hand. My sheets smell like sweat and him and me. Avery's already asleep. I don't know what I just did—I know what I just did. I don't want to think about it.

He's gone when I wake up.