Sixteen

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My head was in the clouds. I didn't even register his hand coming to hold the back of my neck, I was so lost in his lips. Oh god, it felt amazing. Butterflies flew around in my stomach, and my heart was racing.

He pulled away to breathe, and I was panting. He examined my flustered face, and red cheeks.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he breathed, and then grabbed my chin again, pulling me back.

We kissed again, less sweetly this time and more urgently. I could feel the need radiating off of him, as his arms wrapped around my waist as well.

When we broke apart the second time, he just stared at me for a bit. I didn't complain, I could look at his eyes forever.

"You're beautiful," he told me. I blushed.

"Thank you."

It was dark now, and we started to pack up the soda cans and chip bag. I climbed into the passenger seat, and yawned.

"That was nice," I said, leaning my head against the window.

"Have you told your parents you're staying over?" He asked, as he pulled out into the street.

"Uh, I'll tell them now," I said, pulling my phone out. I pretended to send a text, and put it away again.

Clay glanced over suspiciously. "They replied? That was awfully fast."

"Oh, they don't really mind what I do. We're almost 18, after all," I laughed nervously.

"Could I meet them sometime?" He asked, eyes on the road.

"Um, they work a lot. I don't think they'd have time..."

"Oh, what do they do?"

Uh oh. I don't know how long I could keep up the lie, and the more layers I had to add, the worse.

"I never asked you actually, what do your parents do?" I said, trying to direct the conversation away.

"They're lawyers," he said.

Oh god, if they found out I was parent-less and homeless, I'd probably get sent to child services immediately.

"So, what do your parents do?" He asked again, observing me.

"I'd rather not say," I stammered. "They, uh, don't like it spreading around.

Clay just nodded, not pushing it any further.

We arrived at Clay's house, and I stared in awe. They weren't kidding when they said he was rich.

The house was huge, with a big garden and stone path to the door. When we stepped inside, I noticed a chandelier at the front door, along with a soft, fancy looking carpet.

"I think my mom made dinner," Clay said, and the smell of lasagna hit me. "C'mon."

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