Samantha Towle

I have a job! An actual job!

The boy today, did he hit you first?”

I kick the toe of my sneaker against the leg of the coffee table. “No.”

She sighs. “Then, you walk away. But, if he hits you first, then you beat that boy’s ass to the ground. You don’t hit first, River. You hit second, and you hit harder. And I will back you the whole way with your principal. But you hit first, I got no defense for you.”

If only real life were like books.

Because you want us to be truthful with each other. And that’s the truth. I think you’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re good and pure and honest. And I wanted to start with that because the rest of the things I have to tell you are not good or pure or honest. They’re dark and black and fucked up.”

The way he says it, so calm and cold, it’s like he wants me to be afraid of him.

He wants to push me away. He wants me to tell him to leave.

Because he can handle that. He can handle the bad.

The Bible says an eye for eye.

Maybe God knew that not everyone could be dealt with the same.

Lifting my hand to his mouth, he kisses it. “Red, if I could take all of your pain away, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“Fuck, I love it when you’re angry, Red. It’s so hot.”

Dignity, meet trash can.

“What?”

“Dinner, Red. You and me.”

“You want to take me out for dinner?” I say slowly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He gives me a look that says I should already know the answer. “Because you’re my girl, Red.”

My heart literally skips a beat. I’m his girl.

“I am?” I say through a mouth that feels like it’s filled with cotton.

“Yeah. And guys take their girls out on dates.”