Thirteen
I pushed the door closed with my butt and dropped my books and bag on the floor. It had been a long day. Every one in the lab was in a tizzy over the annual mayfly mating. It was that one day of the year when the insects rose from the lakes and streams. They had only one day, a few hours, to stretch their wings and take to the skies. One day to experience life and everything it had to offer. By nightfall, their entire generation would all be dead.
I flopped down on my bed. My butt made contact with the mattress and I winced. I’d done as Hawk had suggested and soaked in the tub last night, and then again this morning. But I was still tender between my thighs.
It wasn’t painful. I felt like I’d been used. And I had been. In the span of a few hours, I’d lived more in a car garage
