The Space Between Us by Anie Michaels

time soon, but I was content to lay in my bed and let my mind wander over what it meant to be with Asher.
       We started our sophomore year as boyfriend and girlfriend, holding hands as we walked down the hallway.  And although I felt like everything had changed, apparently no one else in the school felt the same way.  I kept waiting for people to mention our new status, or notice us holding hands, but people treated us the same way they always had.  At lunch the first day, I asked Reeve about it.
       “Don’t you think it’s weird that no one has noticed that Asher and I are holding hands?”
       “What do you mean?”
       “I mean, no one seems to notice or care that we’re together.”
       Reeve chuckled and turned to me.  “Charlie, you and Asher have been together since fifth grade.  Your relationship is only news to you.  Everyone else has just been waiting for you guys to figure it out.”
       So that’s what we did.  Asher and I figured us out.  We went to football games, school dances, movies; all the places teenagers should go. We spent most of our time out with groups, but my dad still allowed us to go to the park and the school alone, figuring out in public was safe territory.  He was mostly right.
       We found private places to kiss.  The gazebo, the swings, the tree-covered arch through the alley on the way to the school.  There was nothing as exciting as kissing Asher.  It was exciting because it was new, at first.  Then it became a new kind of exciting.  Asher was always, without fail, respectful of me and my body.  He never pushed my boundaries and always waited for me to move us forward. 
       At first, our kisses were sweet.  We were so happy to just be kissing each other; that offered enough excitement.  But eventually we both realized that a kiss on the neck, or a kiss on the shoulder or the ear, brought on a different kind of excitement.  Mouths began to wander, both of ours, and I began to acquaint myself with desire.  Slowly, over the year, we explored each other. 
       One night, about a year into our relationship, an hour before I had to be home, it was dark and we were on a bench far into the park.  We hadn’t seen anyone in the park for about an hour as it was getting chilly.  Asher had his coat unzipped and I had my arms threaded around him, at first to keep warm, but now body heat wasn’t an issue.  Now I was using my arms to hold him close to me as we made out in the darkness.  Without thinking much about it, I moved my hand underneath his shirt and felt everything inside me clench as my fingers came into contact with his bare stomach.  He gasped at my touch, seemingly just as surprised as I was that I had made the move.  Our lips separated, but only enough to breathe, our faces still touching as my hands remained on his body.
       “Is this ok?” I asked him.  He nodded.
       “Don’t stop,” he said quickly, then pressed his lips to mine again.  There was a new level of passion moving between us and the high it gave me made me brave.  I began to move my hands up his torso, feeling the strong muscles of his abdomen.  Every ridge bumped between my fingers and it was a new way to see him.  I used my hands to paint a picture in my mind of what his chest looked like, memorized his body with my mind as if to draw it later.
       I felt his hands gripping my shirt, tugging on it, and I let my bravery make me bolder and I drew his hands up my stomach, trying to give him the go ahead to do a little exploration of his own.  His hands moved hesitantly over my ribcage and I felt his fingertips graze the very edge of my bra.  The sheer excitement of knowing his hands were so close to my breasts caused all kinds of things to malfunction and go haywire in my body.  My arms and legs began to tremble as if I were cold.  My heart seemed to be pumping blood quicker than it ever had before, and my mind kept thinking thoughts like, “His hand is