It was dark and hot, and somewhat humid. The door was closed, all the lights were off, window cracked ever so slightly open. Her room was very quiet. All I could hear was how shallow her breathing and how rapid her heartbeat was.

She was so close. Almost too close. I knew my heart was beating at least as fast as hers, if not faster, just because I was so scared of all the ways I could mess this up. Scared of losing control of myself. Scared of hurting her, losing her. But I knew that all she wanted was to love me the way I needed to be loved, and that made it all the more difficult to hold back.

"Your nose is in the way," she said as she rested hers against mine.

"In the way of what?" I couldn't keep myself from smirking. "There're plenty of ways to fix that. Do you know any or do you need me to show you?"

"You could show me..."

"I could. Do you want me to?"

That quiets her for a good flustered moment.

"Yeah. Go ahead," she sighs and coyly rolls her eyes. I tilt my head slowly to rest my lips in a smile against hers.

"See?" I mumble into her mouth. "Like this. Easy."

"Mmhm," she says. Her deep, dark eyes draw me in so hard, making me feel like I'm drowning every time I look into them. I've been staring at them all night—because they're gorgeous, of course ... but also so I won't stare at all the things I'm not supposed to. I'm not supposed to do any of what I'm doing here. Her silent, subconscious siren song has me in a chokehold.

She nuzzles away from my face and all of a sudden my mouth is now dangerously close to her neck.

Don't do it, dear God, please don't do anything wrong, I scold myself. If anything's going to happen, do not be the one who starts it.

For a while, that pseudo-mantra keeps me at bay. Till she bops my nose for the fifth time, says "Your nose is still in the way" for the fifth time, gets me to say "Well you should know what to do about that by now" for the fifth time.

That captivating gaze of hers flutters to meet mine as she says "No, I keep forgetting. Guess you'll just have to show me again."

This girl will be the death of me.

"Tsk, guess I'll have to," I whisper into her sloppy grin.

No, you don't, I whisper in my mind. You really don't have to.

Her arms tighten around me and I instinctively pull her closer to myself, every inch of her pressed into every inch of me. My heart is pounding even faster than it already had been, making it even more difficult to pretend I'm not having a hard time breathing.

I’m honestly holding my breath at this point, muscles rigid as I struggle to cradle her naturally. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck, her mouth pressed gently onto mine.

And then, ever so slightly, her lips started to part.

It was so subtle I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been focused on her every move in the first place. But her lips were moving against mine—soft, slow, deliberate. They were only the tiniest of movements, and she just barely got ahold of my bottom lip before she started to nibble.

It took everything I had to try and keep in the moan that she'd drawn so very close to escaping me. I was so desperate for this kind of loving, I’d take it anywhere, from anyone.

Mere minutes that felt like hours later, she fell asleep in my arms, her curves melting into a peaceful state of relaxation against my own stiff limbs. Thank God she couldn't see how red my face was. Shame flushed my features in the sanctuary darkness provides.

I didn't sleep a wink, making sure she felt safe and comfortable. I replayed that moment in my mind on loop for hours. Even though she was literally right there, and we couldn’t have been any closer, I felt more alone than I ever had before.

Why would she do something like that? To this day, I still don’t know the answer. There are a lot of questions I need to ask her, but can’t. We’re not in an appropriate place for that. We never were.

That was a few days before we headed out to summer camp. I didn’t talk to her the entire week, barely even saw her at all. Which was fine.

Back down the mountain, though… This sounds dumb but she turned off her read receipts. She’d never done that before and I kind of freaked out. I’d still see her around from a distance, which made sense, having different cliques and being in different grades. But no more were the hug attacks or simple intimacies that she usually perpetuated. I even grew to miss her playful biting.

I’d already known that I screwed up. It just cut so deep so quickly when she put me on the back burner like that. I really hate to say this, but she’s such a tease. Because, of course, a month later she’s official with a friend of mine. They’re cute. It’s been over a year.

I still hate myself for letting that night happen. It wasn’t even conventionally “bad,” but I feel terribly dirty all the same.

Two girls, lying in bed, in the dark, no feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay.

Well, she’s not. Neither am I, but there are times when the devil so tempts a woman. That’s what I’ve come to believe that was.

She and I are friends. She’s forgiven me. I’ve—mostly—forgiven myself. All that’s left is to stop reliving this night in my memories. To stop waking up at two am in a cold sweat, not yet remembering the differentiation between dream and awake, fearing for my life that I screwed up not only again but a thousand times worse.

I need to stop remembering it as the best night of my life when it truly was the worst.