The pain wasn't obvious to an onlooker, but for him, it was always present, always throbbing, daring him to call out, to ask her to witness his agitation, and could she love him too? They slouched in the top of the tornado slide, playing patty-cake and Miss Mary Mack, while the sun sank into the lake, extinguishing itself, while the seagulls floated above the calming waters lapping at the sandy shore. The stench of dead fish, and invisible algae made him want to leave, to give up these childish games. But their palms touched, and she smiled and ducked her head, and he could see the little hairs on the back of her neck, and the twinkle of the silver earrings, and this might be as close as they'd ever be, and he was slowly realizing that he was a coward and that he'd rather stay in the moment, just before catastrophe, and that's what it would be if he tried to kiss her or said anything earnestly, and she pulled away or told him with her eyes to fuck off, if she ignored the moment, and went back to the inane rhymes, and he had to sit there boiling over until she said she had to go, and they would leave, and as he walked her home, she'd knock her shoulder into his and tell him that she loved him, truly she did, but there were other kind of loves that she wanted to explore first, and did she tell him that Shawn wrote her a note and left it in her locker and that they were meeting at the skating rink on Friday, and that he had to go with her, because what if Shawn turned out to be a creep that flashed girls when the lights went off, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that, and they’d get to the porch of her trailer, the security light flogged with spiraling bugs all wanting to get closer to the heat of the night, thinking it was their salvation and it was just another sun ready to set them on fire, and she'd lean in for a hug, and he'd smell her hair, because love was a pain you returned to, a scab you kept picking because if you saw blood then you knew you were alive. And if you were alive, then there was always a chance that eventually you'd be the right kind of guy, the right kind of love, when she got tired of chasing all the wrong kinds of love. And when you're fifteen, you promise yourself that you can wait forever.