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Summary
"You're seventeen."
"And you're twenty-eight. I can count. I don't care."
Till tried to walk past. Ivan caught his wrist—grip stronger than it should be.
"You're not going to report me, are you?"
Till's voice strained. "Let go."
"You'd have to explain why you let it happen." Ivan's thumb pressed against Till's pulse point. "Why you kissed me back."
It starts with questions after class. Then notes. Then touches that last a second too long. It's nothing. Teenagers are weird. Till tells himself he's in control. He's the adult.