I remember it vividly, a few seconds of soft lips caressing, and then the smallest parting of his, as though he wanted to take it further before he snapped himself away, apologized like crazy, and left. It was my first real kiss by someone who wasn’t my sick, perverted father. The first time I trusted someone enough to even kiss me that way at all, and because it was him, I hadn’t felt any fear or repulsion.

“Shit, Sophs, I don’t even remember that at all. I’m sorry I kissed ...