Seven Cuts

When I reach school I don’t see Heather anywhere.
I’ve sent her plenty of texts but she hasn’t been replying.
After I don’t see her in English and Math, I start to worry. I place my books in my locker and decide to look for her. I’m about to head outside but as I pass through the supply room, someone grabs my arm and pulls me inside. I’m about to complain before I see her face.
“Heather,” I say.
She starts to kiss me.
Suddenly, everything is right with the world.
Everything is beautiful.
It’s not just a kiss, its ambrosia, a piece of Heaven.
When she breaks off she smiles. “I thought we should do some practice,” she says. “You know, before the big event tonight.”
I grin. “I think that’s a great idea,” I say. “But I think maybe I need a little more practice before I can consider myself ready.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” she says, grabbing my shirt and we make out for what seems like hours in that supply room.
I never want this to end.
“Heather?” I break off. “What about Puck?”
“What about Puck?”
“I mean,” I try to think of the right words. “Weren’t the two of you going out?”
“I broke up with him,” Heather says. “The first time we spent time on the bridge.”
“You did?”
She nods and kisses me again. “Puck is a bully,” she says. “But he’s also history, Andy. I wouldn’t have known how much I loved you if we hadn’t had all our talks. They made me realize I deserve someone like you. That I don’t have to settle for a Neanderthal like Puck because he happens to be popular.” She pauses and runs a hand through my hair. “Besides,” she says. “I love you, Andy.”
Quid Pro Quo, Andy.
I don’t owe you anything. And we’re not friends.
She’s not going to be there forever, Andy. You’ll need me.
No, I reply. No, I won’t.

Notes