Page 113

"You could have fooled me," I told him and then quicky smiled.

He lowered himself to kiss me again, to kiss my breasts and then gently lowered the side of his head to my body, just under my breasts.

"I can hear your heart pounding," he said.

"I can, too."

He kissed my stomach and I held my breath, waiting to see where he would bring his lips next, but he closed his eyes and turned over instead to lie beside me and look up at the ceiling. A part of me was disappointed, and a part of me was filled with curiosity. How could he pause, be so controlled?

"We can't go too far," he said. "What if we did exactly what our parents

have done? I'm not . . prepared to go any further," he said, sounding a little embarrassed.

I turned to him and reached out to turn his face to mine.

"You're right," 1 said. "You don't have to be ashamed of it either. It's not unmanly or stupid. I don't think any less of you. We're not going to inherit any sin," I added firmly, and he smiled.

He leaned over to kiss me, and we held each other.

"But that doesn't mean we can't want each other, need each other and love each other," I added.

He smiled and kissed me again before lying back to think. His gaze moved over the room slowly, as if he wanted to commit every inch of it and every second of us now to his-memory forever.

"I've never been in any girl's room before," he told me. "I've read that whomever you do the first things in your life with you never forget."

"I couldn't forget you no matter what."

"Does this mean you're going to help me paint it now?"

He laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm a dork."

"No, you're not, Duncan. And don't think I'm so much more advanced than you are when it comes to all this. I had one boyfriend for a split second."

"Split second?"

"That's how it seemed to me."

I brushed back his hair.

"Now I have two."

He laughed. "You're the first girl who constantly surprises me."

"Do you like that?"

"Yes, very much."

"Are you reconsidering having dinner with me?" "She'll be mad at me, but that's okay," he said with a new determination.

"Good. I'm getting hungry. Go see what you can find in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed."

He kissed me again, and then he got up and walked out.

Was I mad to keep trying with him, to still want to be around him after what he had just revealed? I wondered as I dressed and fixed my hair. Was it arrogant of me to think I could help him when I had trouble finding ways to help myself? Really, how far could two emotional and psychological cripples go with each other? Which voice within me should I listen to more, the one that was telling me to run from him or the one that was telling me he and I needed each other?

"I can make the salad," he said when I entered the kitchen. He had a large bowl and ingredients" spread over a counter. "There's some packages of pasta in the pantry, and in the refrigerator I saw what looks like some of the pasta sauce you have at the cafe and sell in jars. I've seen people gobbling it up at the cafe and raving about it."

I went to put that together while he worked on the salad. He was very good, very meticulous at cutting up vegetables and tomatoes and slicing onions. He even prepared a salad dressing out of oil and vinegar and some spices he had found. He caught me looking at him in amazement.