Liz?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why do you care about me?"

The question seems to startle me. It's uncharacteristic for Richie, who is usually so cool and self-assured. I open my eyes. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I don't understand. We're so different."

I reach around the side of his face. Once again, I wipe fresh beads of sweat from his forehead. This time, I don't even bother wiping my hands on my pants. I lace my fingers into his again, and the two of us lie together, his damp clamminess seeping onto my made up face and my pretty clothes. Obviously, I couldn't care less.

"But we fit," I whisper. "Like this." And I tighten my grip around him.

"Mmm." He smiles, his eyes still closed.

"You're right. We do."

"Richie...I'm lying. I don't like you."

"You don't?" His voice cracks.

"No." I bring my lips close to his ear. "I love you Richie Wilson.

Jessica Warman

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