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“No, we don’t, please,” he said.

He couldn’t believe what he was saying. Didn’t recognize the sound his own voice. Didn’t understand the feelings coursing through his veins. He only knew that he meant the words wholeheartedly. That he wanted her more than ever. It was as if every feeling that had built up inside him the past few months was fighting to be released all at once. Even he hadn’t recognized the intensity of his feelings for her.

“Ash, we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“But we will be if we keep this up. Trust me, we will be.” She shook her head, hand falling from his chest.

As he reached for her his purity ring glinted, catching one of the bar’s few lights. He could do nothing but watch as the look in her eyes melted. He’d never had anyone look at him the way she did when they were kissing—with such passion, desire, love. He never wanted her to look at him any other way again. And yet, the sight of his ring robbed him of that look all together.

“Oh, Joe,” she said, almost whimpering his name before turning away and running for the door of the bar.

He fumbled for his wallet, frantically searching for a bill big enough to leave behind him that would cover their tab, hoping that she wouldn’t be too far gone by the time he could follow her out the doors. He felt terrible when he saw her, only steps outside the door, sitting on a bench with her head in her hands. He crouched down before her, resting his hands on her knees.

“Hey, Ash, what’s—“she cut him off.

“I should never have started that, Joe. Never. I’m sorry,” again Ash was apologizing to him, like it was her fault.

“Who says you started it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I kissed you first, Joe, I let that get way out of hand.”

“I don’t know, there’s a pretty big purple mark on your neck right now…and I’m pretty sure that was all me.” He reached out and touched the spot where he’d broken blood vessels below the skin, a laugh lightly escaping his lips.

“This isn’t funny, Joe,” she said, first pushing his hand away, then taking hold of it and fingering his ring. She was silent for a moment, but began again, the edge of her voice falling, “I don’t think I can do this.”

She stood and began to walk away. He was only frozen for a second before he followed her.

“I don’t understand,” he raked a hand through his hair and almost didn’t recognize it as his own, he’d let it go curly for her, so that people wouldn’t recognize him as easily. She was so worried, all the time. He knew she was worried again.

“I can’t do this. I can’t…” from a step behind her he could see her jaw set. “You’re too young, you’re too innocent, your career is…my god, you’re a kid.”

All excuses he’d heard before, all excuses he was tired of.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he heard the anger creeping into his voice. Why wouldn’t she give him a chance? “That kiss back there—you didn’t kiss me like I was a kid. You kissed me like I was someone you wanted. That has nothing to do with how old I am. My feelings, THOSE feelings, have nothing to do with my age. Or yours.”

“Don’t you get it?!” she tore at her hair, “I can’t be responsible for you! Can’t be responsible for your career, or your heart, or—or, your purity.” The word purity rang sour in her voice.

“You’re not responsible for any of that,” the calm in his voice shocked him, he felt anything but calm. Purity rang over and over in his ears, it sounded ugly.

“I am. I would be.”

“No, I am, Aisling. I am responsible for those things. And none of them are in jeopardy with you.”

“You cannot believe that. You cannot possibly believe that I wouldn’t be terrible for you…for your life, on so many levels…” she wheeled violently around to face him. “And that kiss back there—” she pointed in the direction of the bar, “no, no—that make-out-session back there, after that, you cannot believe that I wouldn’t put your purity in jeopardy.”

“I was as much a part of that as you were. I did nothing I wasn’t comfortable with.”

“Well, I’m uncomfortable with it.”

And there it was, the heart of the matter. Her voice was dead.

“Why? It was amazing…” He tried to close the space between them, reaching for her cheek but she resisted his advance.

“I’m uncomfortable with what I wanted to do. With what I could barely stop myself from doing. With what I still want to do now. I—I don’t think I can keep that commitment, the commitment you’ve made.” She gasped, shudderingly, throwing a hand over her mouth and ran toward the curb, other arm in the air.

He watched, motionless, as Ash clambered into a taxi. But as soon as she pulled away, he felt his skin crawling, his insides fighting to get out. He had to start moving. Although he did not know where he was, he began to walk. His watch told him it was nearing two in the morning, and people were stumbling in and out of nondescript bars all around him. Realizing he’d left his hat back in the last bar, discarded by Aisling as they’d kissed, he found himself hoping no one would recognize him. He had no defenses. No energy left in his body for fans, or worse, for running from fans.

His mind, like the rest of his insides, was crawling with the memory of her. Of her touch, her taste, her gaze. The knot in his heart—which had disappeared for a short time in that bar—was back in full force. It seemed to be swelling from the pain of contortion, of injury. He felt like his lungs were trying to operate around a brick. And worst of all, he could not stop thinking.

–

He had never kissed anyone like that before in his life. The sheer unbridled intensity of their encounter had shaken him to the core. He feared it had changed him. That he would never be able to go back to what he’d known before. What he’d once thought was a kiss now seemed like a pale shadow in comparison to the touch of her lips. He feared that he had no choice. That he might never get through to Aisling.

He knew that she wanted him. Of that much he could now be sure. It was in her kiss. In the fingers clutching at him, urging him on. It was in her eyes as they argued, as she turned to leave, hand over her kiss swollen lips.

But he began to realize that it wasn’t that simple for her. What seemed so easy, so logical to him was anything but for Aisling. Because logic told her he was too young, too famous, too pure to be with her. Logic told her she was a danger to him. And perhaps, he suspected, it told her that he was a risk for her too. A danger to a carefully cultivated sense of balance in her life.

He wanted to believe that what he asked of her was simple. Love, nothing more, nothing less. It was there, between them. He wanted her to give in to it. But he was beginning to see that what he asked of her was a lot. He was asking her to sacrifice Friday night dates and Saturday movie marathons and Sunday walks in the park. To put aside her reservations about their age difference. To risk her career. To help him risk his.

Suddenly the words she’d been repeating over and over were sinking in. Those words were very real to her, they were very practical concerns. She was not seventeen, she could not tell herself everything would be fine because she loved him. She worried that it was not enough. And she was trying to do what she felt was right by pushing him away. But he also knew that most of all, she was scared.

He was racing down a freeway without a map. With no sense of direction except toward Aisling. He wasn’t sure how to get there, to her. He was used to girls throwing caution to the wind for him. Or girls who never felt a sense of caution in the first place. Who abandoned sense for him. Girls who he broke up with three months later.

Just as he had not known how to break through to Aisling when they first met, he did not know how to break through to her now. He’d happened upon the solution by accident last time, with about fifty missed steps in between. But he knew this time more was at stake, and he’d have less opportunity to screw up. He knew that if he was going to do this with Aisling, he’d have to do it right. Put her concerns to rest. Be open and up front and honest. Speak his mind.