The television in the other room.

Tyler's laugh at something on screen.

We broke apart but didn't move, his forehead against mine, both of us breathing in the stove light.

This was the thing about forbidden that I hadn't understood before him — it didn't disappear just because the feelings underneath it became real. It deepened. Because now there was something to lose.

His hands moved from my face to my waist, not pulling closer, just holding. Grounding. I pressed my palm flat against his chest and felt his heart and it was doing what mine was doing.

"I hate this," I whispered. Barely sound at all.

"I know," he...