I recall the feel of our bodies pressed tightly in the backseat. The freedom of letting my fingers linger over your palm and up your arm, around your neck, and adams apple. I’d always wanted to know a body, not just the unexposed places between our thighs. Because everything is forbidden. The cool feel of placing my cheek to chest. The intimacy of hearing a heart beat on a quiet night in the summer. The way it will murmur secret love and secret shame. My hands, making a map of the placement of your face, will draw along your cheekbones, high and freckled slightly, down to the lips which part and tell me to never stop. Skin stretching over muscle and bone. Timid virility. Reaching and searching for validation in my touch. This is what we give each other.