Josie

King dropped me off at my apartment, and left a lingering kiss against my cheek. I was thankful for the streetlight that’d burned out above us to hide the blush it left against my skin.

The only kiss I’d ever had with a boy was in sixth grade, and it was for a gifted and talented play. In other words, no guy ever bothered giving me one that mattered. I prayed, even though King was a gentleman the entire night, that we could branch out on a limb and he might be my first.

He left me with a promise to take me out again over the weekend, and watched until I made it into the apartment. The quiet sent goosebumps against my skin as I gave my eyes time to adjust to the darkness.

Jordan’s room looked empty as I passed by toward the hallway. My foot snagged on something and I stumbled toward the carpeted floor with a heavy thud. “Oh!”

A pair of cleats sat in the middle of the living room, the spike on the bottom dug into my ankle on the way down.

Stupid boys. Always leaving things around.

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