Patch: "it's Hard To Concentrate On Answers

It Isn't About Love," Vee Said. "it's About Fun.

Anthony Raised His Red Plastic Cup To Me And Shouted Something, But It Was Too Hard To Hear Over The Music. “what?” I Called Back. “you Look Great!” A Goofy Smile Was Plastered On His Face. “oh Boy,” Vee Said. “not Just A Pimp, But A Smashed Pimp.” “so Maybe He’s A Little Drunk.” “drunk And Hoping To Corner You Alone In A Bedroom Upstairs.” Ugh.

I Wrinkled My Nose, Trying To Figure Out What He Smelled Like. Not Cigarettes. Something Richer, Fouler. Cigars.

And Just Like That, I Shut Off The Switch To My Brain.

You’re Crowding Me. I Need— Room.”... What I Needed Were Boundaries. I Needed Willpower. I Needed To Be Caged Up, Since Yet Again I Was Proving I Couldn’t Be Trusted In Patch’s Presence. I Should Have Been Bolting For The Door, And Yet … I Wasn’t.