Blood and Betrayal
The air smelled of woodsmoke and salt.
Toby handed me a lukewarm beer. “To being young and reckless,” he toasted, clinking his bottle against mine.
“I’ll settle for just being young,” I laughed.
We sat close to the fire. Toby started telling a story about a professor he hated, and I found myself leaning into him. He was warm, his skin smelled like the sun, and for a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to date him. To have a boy take me to the movies, to hold my hand in public, to not have to wash the scent of a secret off my body every morning.