I hear the mouth of the zipper, and the same scent from the classroom comes back to me, the scent of his private skin, the pink of him, the sound of his hand against himself. He covers my mouth with his and yanks my underwear to the side. I start to shriek into his mouth. It must sound like a moan.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he mutters.

It happens so fast I don’t know what it is, but then he is inside of me, the hardness of him, the tearing of my body, a strange harsh heat searing between my legs.

He moves against me fast and hard, a terrible friction, faster and faster, until he moans like before, shudders like before, fills me with another heat, and collapses against my body.

“Wasn’t that nice?” he murmurs. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

I stare up at the red quarry in the afternoon light, wet faced, numb, chest empty.

VISION

After school, we wander The Acres.

“I like it when you listen to me,” Jarred says.

“I want to show you something,” I say. “Have you seen the Meat Quarry?”

“No,” he says. “Where’s that?”

“Just out this way,” I say.

I guide him down the road until we reach the gate.

I slide my key into the lock until it clicks. He follows me inside, his eyes flicking over the flesh walls.

“What is this place?” he asks.

“The Meat Quarry. My brother and father discovered it. It’s ours.”

“What do you do down here?”

“This is where we harvest the meat.”

“Weird,” he says. “Smells like hell. ”

“It’s my favorite place.”

“Come here.”

I walk to him, body more electric. He shoves his mouth against mine. It’s rough, the way he does it this time, his teeth against my lips and tongue, his hand on the side of my face, tender.

“I really like you,” he says. “I think about you all the time.”

“I like you too,” I say.

He puts his mouth back on mine. I run my hands through his wild hair, over his chest beneath his worn t-shirt. He lets out a low moan and slides his hand up my skirt, past my underwear, his fingers on my bare skin.

We slide to the ground. I can feel him hard against my leg. The heat between my legs grows, glows, turns white. He presses his mouth into my hair.

I pull back and stare deep into his eyes. He keeps going, sliding my dress from my shoulder, then his mouth to my breast, his hands keep roving, running over my knot.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

I nod and he does, gently, lightly sliding a finger into me. He puts his mouth back on mine and I keep my body close to him, close to his warmth.