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Show 65 "I know," she said. She stroked his forehead after checking her hand, and brushed the hair back from his eyes. "You'll feel better in a little while." "I mean I keep on doing it even though I know I'm going to feel like a piece of shit." "The girl is just as much to blame as the boy is," she said, touching his cracked lip with her fingertips. He tried to kiss her but she turned her head. "You probably wouldn't have done it if I hadn't wanted you to, though," he said. "Don't be silly," she said. She ran a finger up and down the edge of his ear. "We won't do it again." "I wish I could believe that," he said. "We won't," she said gently. "I promise." He felt hot and chafed, more than usual. They were hidden from the trail by an embankment, along the top of which grew a fringe of scrubby plants with leaves shaped like spades. He wasn't sure what poison ivy looked like, but as he lay there looking up at them he tried to remember if Melanie had touched them when they had climbed down to eat their lunch here. People had passed up and down the trail over their heads all afternoon, and he had been worried at first that sooner or later one of them would pick this spot to leave the trail and climb down to the stream. No one had, and he wondered if that was because everyone else recognized poison ivy. Melanie had sat up and was rummaging through the crumpled grocery bag. "There are some grapes left," she said. "I don't want any." |