“I still can't believe you kicked me.""I didn’t want to. I needed to."I glance at him as we leave the dorms, "Keep telling yourself that."He grins his cocky, shitty grin, "Keep telling yourself the paddle doesn’t turn you on."I snort and hate that he knows so much about me. My cheeks are on fire just hearing the word paddle.”

“I grip him. "Don’t leave me."He kisses my lips, "Never again. This isn’t me leaving you. This is me choosing you." He throws my words back at me.He kisses me once more and then pushes off. He leaves and doesn’t look back. I fight the urge to run after him.”

“I needed to see you." He repeats himself.I smile. I like that word, need. It's not want. He had no choice because it was a need to see me. I like that.”

“He steps forward and kisses my forehead. His breath is soft, devastating warmth on my face. He turns and leaves. He chooses survival over me. It's no different than what I have done. We are both just trying so hard to survive me.”

“I laugh nervously and jerk my hand free, "I want the you that tilts his head back and eats the snow. I want the you that holds me and snuggles into me. I want him, but you hardly ever show him to me. I see a glimpse of him and then it's you that’s back." I point disappointedly. "I want the sweet guy who puts his hand out for me."His eyes fight something. His lips tighten, "He's in here too. I think there are a few of us.”

“He clears his throat, "Have you considered he sees you as a girl at school? Not all girls are whole when you meet them. Sometimes you have to help them get there. Right now, you are a broken girl. That doesn’t mean that you'll always be broken. That doesn’t make you less of a girl." He clears his throat again, "I'll call the doc. She'll want to talk to you."The tears in my eyes don’t come out. They stay in there like tiny kaleidoscopes, trying to make the world the way I need it to be. My words don’t come right away either. I don’t hear the click on his end when I whisper, "I'm not broken." But he isn’t there. He never really is. He is the master of not being there.”

“We drive in silence until I need an answer, "What did he say to you at the elevator?" I look straight ahead when I ask."He thanked me for being there for you, even as a boy, when he could not protect you himself. He told me that I had his permission to love you.”