Well why wouldn't he? I'm nothing to him.

"Okay," I gasped. He paused for one brief second, his eyes flaring, and then his lips crashed down on mine. He took my face in his hands, his fingers weaving through my hair and his tongue pushing into my mouth. My whole body felt like it would combust as I brought my arms around his neck and pressed myself into his hard form, melting into him. He groaned, a tortured sound, and tilted my head with his hands as his tongue plunged more deeply into my mouth. I moaned back, my tongue dancing with his, playing, tasting. I broke from his mouth, gasping in air as he nipped and kissed up my throat. "Yes, oh God, Kyland, don't stop," I begged. And if he would have laid me down on the floor right there and made love to me, I would have let him. I was very close to begging him to do just that. Blood pumped furiously between my legs causing a pounding drumbeat of need. My breasts felt heavy and achy.

His lips returned to mine and he plunged his tongue in and out of my mouth as if he were starving for me. And I loved it. I wanted the kiss to go on and on. I never, ever wanted it to end.

Suddenly, Kyland pulled away from me and stepped back, breathing harshly, looking dazed and somehow still angry, the evidence of his own arousal tenting his jeans. "Holy fuck, Tenleigh. What are you doing?"

My blood ran cold as suddenly as it had heated only moments ago, my eyes widening as I stared incredulously at him. "What . . . what am I doing?"

And just like that, Kyland turned and walked out of the Dennville Public Library, leaving me alone and confused, my lips and my heart bruised.

I had let him do it to me again! What was wrong with him? What was wrong with me? I leaned my body back against the bookshelf behind me and vowed never again to let Kyland Barrett humiliate me. He wasn't the only one with plans to leave here. Why did he even have to register on my radar? God, I hated him.

**********

I had a sneaking suspicion you probably weren't supposed to think about someone you hated all day and all night.

Damn.

But I did make it a point to avoid Kyland Barrett the entire next week. Once I saw him at the end of a hallway in school and I made a sudden turn so I didn't have to pass him, and another time I glanced out the window of one of my classrooms and saw him outside walking with Shelly Galvin. I quickly looked away, jealousy filling my chest, making me feel angry and brittle, my heart aching. He hadn't seemed to have a problem kissing her.

Again, this was why it was my plan to avoid men around these parts—they were either entitled users, or backwoods losers. For a brief moment, I had thought Kyland was different, but he wasn't. He had purposely humiliated me, knowing I was attracted to him. Well, never again. Apparently there were plenty of girls happy to have him play with them around here. He wouldn't die of loneliness anytime soon. I had seen proof of that. I sat chewing on my pencil, unable to get him off my mind, though. Damn—I had liked him. I had allowed myself to think about him as I lay on the small couch in our trailer, drifting off to sleep. I had dreamed of him looking into my eyes the way he had as we sat looking out at the sunset. I had dreamed of him touching me, kissing me, even loving me. I had dreamed of seeing him with his shirt off, my fingers trailing down his warm, suntanned skin . . . Even though my mind had warned me to stop dreaming, the very thought of it had sent a current of electricity straight to my heart. Stop, Tenleigh. Just stop, foolish girl. Stupid, foolish girl.

Plan Swear Off Men: officially reinstated.

After school, I went to the library so I wouldn't encounter Kyland walking up the hill to his home. I knew he wouldn't be checking out any more books. I was safe—and I liked it there. It was like my own personal office. I could sit at the small table in the back, spread my homework out, and have all the privacy I needed. No one in this town was too interested in reading except for me. And it was a lot more comfortable than the small pullout table in our trailer, the one that squeaked every time I pressed down on it to write.

My breath plumed in the early December air as I made my way quickly to the small building a quarter mile from home. I rushed inside, closing the door behind me, breathing in the slightly musty air. There wasn't any heat in here, but it was warmer than outside, and it'd certainly be a lot warmer than our drafty trailer. I spread my stuff out on the table in the back and got started on my homework. I lingered over my assignments, not wanting to leave, happy in my solitude.

I needed a new book. I stood up to peruse them and noticed a small white piece of paper sticking out of The Bluest Eye, the book I'd returned right before Kyland kissed me. Recalling his kiss, I childishly made a disgusted sound aloud in the quiet room—just because it felt good—and then reached for the book. I pulled out the slip of paper, my heart skipping a beat when I saw tiny, slanted script:

One of the bleakest books I've ever read, offering no hope whatsoever. Made me want to throw myself off the nearest cliff. – KB

I paused, reading the line over again. KB. Kyland Barrett. Was he trying to be funny? My anger rose as I sat to write my reply:

Only an ignorant hick would fail to see the true point of this novel, which is that we all have an internal dialogue that either keeps us trapped or sets us free. As far as a cliff, I'd suggest Dead Man's Bluff—the name alone is optimistic as far as your cause. In addition, it's the highest one in the area and offers lots of jagged rocks in the basin, practically guaranteeing your demise. – TF

I smiled a small smile and stuck the paper back in the book, leaving it sticking out the top. Then I stood perusing the books I'd read, looking for the most depressing, disturbing one I could, finally pulling Brighton Rock off the shelf, leaving an obvious gap where it had sat.