Lost in You

close my eyes, I picture what she looks like with me hovering over the top of her, or pressed against the wall with her legs wrapped around me. These visions of lust cloud my mind. Holding her hand simply ignites a fury beneath my skin with anticipation of what could come.
    When my fingers brushed against her breast, the thought of knowing I could touch her freely, even if it was behind layers of fabric, sent a thrill right through me. Having her pull away, though, is not my intended plan. I know she’s being smart, cautious. That should be me. I should protect us, shy away from her to keep her safe. I know what my mom is going to say when she finds me alone. A conversation I don’t want to listen to.
    Hadley is right, though. This friendship, or what I want to consider a relationship, needs to be kept quiet. The last thing I want is for Hadley to be in trouble because of me. If kissing her in private is all I’m allowed to do, then so be it. I’ll take what I can get until my eighteenth birthday. I’m hoping then that she’ll still want me.  
    “You should go downstairs. I’ll follow behind.” She says this with confidence while my heart is aching for her to come with me.
    Opening the door, I peek out into the hallway, looking for Reverend Monroe. I saw him and my father walk toward the basement before I brought Hadley in here, but I don’t want to take any chances. I need to protect Hadley from the scrutiny she’ll face if we get caught.
    I give her hand a quick kiss before stepping out into the hallway. There’s a soft glow from the nightlights used to illuminate a path. I take a deep breath before entering the church, walking down the aisle and descending the stairs.
    People are gathered, as normal. They congregate by their job or financial status. I hate this church. Reverend Monroe preaches about giving back to the community and treating everyone like family, yet the rich are on the right and the poor on the left. We’re segregated by status and told, without using the words, to never cross that imaginary line.
    Dylan pushes me into the corner, her face full of anger. I’ve never seen her cheeks so red. Her teeth are clenched, causing her jaw to protrude slightly. Her grip is strong as she squeezes my arm for effect.
    “You invited her to church?”
    “Not really. She asked if she could come. Besides, what’s the big deal? No one can tell who she is or anything. She’s wearing that stupid hat.”
    “That’s not what I meant,” Dylan says through pursed lips. “What is going on with you and her?”
    I shrug. If I’m supposed to be careful, I can’t really tell Dylan that I’ve taken on the newfound hobby of French kissing her idol. “We’re friends. I make her laugh.” The last part is a lie, I’m not sure that I do and I haven’t told her any jokes to find out.
    “I think there’s more to this story. You spent the night with her.”
    “I didn’t, Dylan. I told you this. We talked and it’s all thanks to you. Had we come home like planned we wouldn’t be having this conversation and I wouldn’t be grounded.”
    “You’re grounded?”
    “Of course I am.” I don’t tell her it’s all worth it. I wouldn’t trade that first night with Hadley for anything. Nor the second, although my parents don’t know about the early sneaking in I did this morning. “It doesn’t matter what my mom says, she cowers to my dad and you know that.”
    “I’m sorry.” Dylan sounds remorseful. She knows my home life is anything but stellar. While she and most of my classmates are living the life of luxury – even the same ones in my neighborhood have more than I do – I’m stuck in the sixties where the man rules and the wife does everything he says. And the children – they have no voice.
    I spot Alex in the corner. Her eyes are trained on me while she’s talking to another parishioner. Her eyes turn to the entry way and I follow. Hadley steps through. She looks calm and reserved. Dylan turns and shakes her head.
    “Really?”
    “What?”
    She looks back at me. “You like her, don’t you?”
    Like? No, that word does not begin to sum up how I feel about Hadley. “She’s… nice,” I mutter, catching Dylan’s look all too soon. She steps back as if I’ve hurt her, stabbed her. She shakes her head, her eyes downcast, examining the white tile floor stained yellow from years of abuse. I don’t understand what just happened.
    “Did you sleep with her?” she whispers. I look