Free Crash Test Love by Ted Michael Page B

Superman” (Santogold, 2008).
    “What are you thinking about?” he asks me. His ngers hesitate slightly when they reach the material of my bra, then crawl like spiders across the black cot on.
    “You,” I say. He moves on top of me, resting his weight on his elbows, and kisses me, soft, lovely kisses on my lips and earlobes and neck. When I touch him I imagine that this is what it feels like to place your hand in a re. I am burning.

    I touch him I imagine that this is what it feels like to place your hand in a re. I am burning.
    Paolo Nutini is singing on my computer, and my iTunes is playing a light show; the colors bounce o Ben in muted reds and blues and greens and yel ows. I close my eyes to savor this moment, these few seconds of stil ness before the inevitable what comes next, only when I open them I no longer see Ben. I see Henry. His strong arms are around me. His beautiful eyes are staring right into mine.
    “What are you doing here?” I ask him.
    “What do you think?” He leans forward to kiss me—
    “Garret ! Are you in there?”
    My mother’s voice wakes me, and I realize I’m in my bed. Alone. I look at my clock—it’s not even eight p.m.
    “I didn’t know you were home,” she says after I open the bedroom door. She is holding a tiny bot le of scented lotion from Bath & Body Works and the latest Teen Vogue. “Want me to give you a hand massage and gossip about underage celebrities?”
    “Uh, maybe later.”
    She looks disappointed. “Okay, sweetie. I’l be downstairs, probably doing Downward Facing Dog.” She leaves, and I am livid with my subconscious for al owing Henry to invade my memory. How dare he. I don’t love Henry. I love Ben. Wel , I used to. Now … who knows. But I certainly don’t want to get naked with Henry Arlington anytime soon. That much I know for sure.
    I need to step up my game. Prove to the J Squad that I can seduce Henry without fal ing for him, and prove to myself that I can be the one in control, the one who doesn’t get hurt. I’l start by securing an invitation to his house for next weekend. It wil happen. I simply need to gure out how.
    PINK LYRICS RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I FIGURE OUT A PLAN
    “I’m comin’ up so you better get this party started.”
    —Get the Party Started
    “I hope I don’t end up in jail.”—Tonight’s the Night
    “Nine, eight, seven, six, ve, four, three, two, one, fun.”—Funhouse
    I have an idea. I go downstairs to my father’s study; he’s also stil in the middle of unpacking, but has stu ed his bookshelves with his favorite books (on lm studies) and DVDs. I may not particularly care about the Greatest Movies of Al Time, but Henry does, and that’s how I’m going to get him. And I am going to get him. Just wait and see.
    The next morning, at school, Henry stops at my locker.
    “Hey,” he says. He’s wearing a red polo shirt and a tight pair of khakis. He looks good.
    “Hey,” I say back, surprised that he’s paying at ention to me. I glance around for the J Squad, hoping they’re watching.
    “Just saying hel o and not ignoring you.” The way he says it makes me remember our conversation over the weekend at work.
    “Thanks,” I say. “Are you feeling bet er?”
    “Hmm?”
    “Yesterday. You were out sick, right?”
    “You noticed?”
    I’m suddenly embarrassed. I want him to think I’m interested in him—that’s the whole point, of course—but not that I fol ow his every move. “It was oddly silent,” I say. “Not a single girl cried al day, so I gured you weren’t around.” He laughs, and I can tel that was the right answer.
    “Wel ,” he says, smiling, “see you later, Garret .”
    I watch him leave, walking slowly down the senior hal way.
    Henry said hel o to me, and I made him laugh.
    Game on.

    THE MIDDLE
    Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so