“Well, I wouldn't be so sure of yourself. I can tell that it's taking you as much self control to not touch me as it is for me to not touch you.”

“You can't touch me," I whisper. I'm lying, is what I don't tell him. He can touch me, is what I'll never tell him. Please touch me, is what I want to tell him.”

“You can control yourself if you really want to. I'll tell you how I know you can control yourself. If you were in a full fledged emotional temper tantrum in your house and I knocked on your front door..... Come on! Let me tell you what, you would get control of yourself, and it would only take a few seconds.”

“But tell me, Mays, why is it that all I can fucking think about is you? Why am I so eager to take another guy's head off for touching you? Why is it when I lay in bed at night I wish it was you there beside me?”

“Let's go into the woods and take some pictures," you said. "I found this old camera.""Let go!" you screamed. "Let go of me!""You have to let go," the counselor told me. "Let go of what you're holding inside."I can touch the picture but it's not your face.I can touch the screen but it's not your face.Let go.”

“You’re touching me,” I chided him. He caressed my back, sliding his hand down, hitting every sensitive point I hadn’t even known I had. “No, this is touching you. That was just accidental contact.” “Oh? Good to know. If you touch me again and I break your arm off, you can be sure it will be completely accidental.”