“I want to know." His words are a whisper, barely audible. "I want to know with you.”

“What does it feel like to be infected?""I-- I can't describe it." I force the words out. Can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe. His skin smells like smoke from a wood fire, like soap, like heaven. I imagine tasting his skin; I imagine biting his lips. "I want to know." His words are a whisper, barely audible. "I want to know with you.”

“I told you," he whispers back. I can feel his breath just tickling the space behind my ear, making my hair prick up on my neck. "I like you.""You don't know me," I say quickly."I want to, though.”

“Look, I'm not going to have sex with him just so he'll say that he loves me, you know?"...That isn't why I was planning to have sex with Rob - to hear the words, I mean. I just wanted to get it over with. I think. Actually, I'm not sure why it seemed so important.”

“I didn’t know it would be like this,” he says in a whisper. And then: “I’m scared.”

“Funny how time heals. Like that bullet in my ribs. It's there, I know it's there, but I can barely feel it at all anymore.”

“I still wanted to know why. As though somebody was going to answer that for me, as though any answer would be satisfying.”