When Noodle comes around, sometimes it’s like the sun is shining for the first time in forever. I turn my face into him and everything is warm. When he comes around other times, it’s like the sun will never shine again.

How many times do I have to say no before he hears me?

How many times can I stand to?

“Hey, gurrrrrl.” He drags the word out so long it sounds dirty. There are times when I know I will never be clean of him.

“Go away, Noodle. I don’t wanna keep doing this.”

“I wanna keep doing you.” He leers.

My eyes roll of their own accord. I’m out of energy. What I miss about him has nothing to do with sex. It doesn’t make sense, how you can look at someone and love them and hate them and want them to hold you and never want to see them again, all at once. The head trip is some kind of roller coaster.

I whisper to myself over and over, in my mind. He’s not a good person. He’s not a good person. You can’t. You don’t want to. Don’t do it.

But when his arms go out, it’s too hard. Way too hard to say no.

KIMBERLY

It’s a little bit about his hands. The way he moves paper across the desk so efficiently. Long slender fingers. I love to watch him dial the desk phone—quick and smooth, like he’s strumming.

It’s a little bit about the way he tilts his head while people talk to him. He really listens.

It’s a little bit about that one time, when he touched my shoulder, and the shiver went all the way through me. The funny little dance we did … I would have let it go on forever, if—

He caught me off guard earlier, bringing up Al, that’s all. Zeke can’t ever know what happened between me and Al. Reverend Sloan. The senator.

I can pretend better, so he never finds out.

Just look at him. He’s so adorable. So dedicated.

It’s a little bit about his mind. He has ideas. More than that, he knows what to do with them. You never see him confused. He’s got everyone’s respect.

It’s a little bit about his smile. White teeth, pretty close to perfect, like maybe he wore braces once. The quirky, jaunty question mark at the corner of his lips; would you call that a dimple, or merely something in that vein? A tiny dart of his dark tongue over those lips, and I have to check myself from staring.

He’s fine.

ZEKE

She’s fine. Can’t tear my eyes from that big, sexy behind of hers. Why is she wearing cute pants like that to the office? Nobody needs to look that good while filing correspondence.