SIN SO SWEET
I don’t know exactly when it stopped feeling like a game.
Maybe it was the night in the shed, Sarah’s name flashing on my phone while Jonah came down my throat and I swallowed every drop like it was the only truth that mattered. Or the library, where we left our mess on old poetry books that no one would ever read again. Or the balcony, where the neighbor’s light stayed on just long enough that I wondered if someone really had seen us—seen me arched over the railing, tits out, ass full of him, moaning into the night like I didn’t have a best friend sleeping ten feet away.