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to pull out of our embrace.  Well after our first date, Kerry would still blush when I flirted with her and I’d watch as small goosebumps formed along her buttery brown skin each time we touched. 
    She was innocent. 
    In a way I had never expected.  She welcomed me into her life with no fear, no questions and no inhibitions.  Like being with me was as natural as waking up in the morning or going to sleep at night.  She accepted me into her life as if I was supposed to be there, as if I had been there all along.
    After our first date, we were inseparable.  At first it was dinner each night at the dining hall by her dorm and shortly after, I was meeting her when her classes let out throughout the day.  Kerry was talkative and held little back.  As I had guessed, she came from an affluent family.  Her father was a partner at a big law firm, and her mother was a homemaker who made her name for herself in various local charities.  She spoke about her upbringing with a mixture of embarrassment and nostalgia. 
    “I was the kid in the ball gown doing the waltz at sixteen,” Kerry had said, describing attending annual cotillions with her local Jack and Jill club.
    “You sure you aren’t promised to be married to the Prince of Zumunda?” I had joked.  She laughed.
    Kerry was from a world that might as well have been across the universe.  She only wore sneakers when she was going for a run.  Her shoes were always perfectly polished, and she wore dress shirts tucked into her perfectly fit jeans.  She was very close to her family.  Especially her father.  When she was a little girl, she promised him she would follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer and though her interests sometimes wavered, she never seemed in danger of breaking her promise. 
    Her father was a formidable presence in her life.  She called him at the beginning of her day to report on what she planned to do and if we were out too late, Kerry would rush back to her dorm to call him so he wouldn’t worry.  Kerry consulted with him about everything, from the classes she took to whether she would take a long car ride on a rainy day.  Her father’s opinions on her life seemed almost as important as her own.  I didn’t know if the interest he took in her was weird or just what it looked like when a father loved his daughter.
    I’d be a fool if I didn’t realize early on that her attraction to me was likely because she and I were so different.  I’d watch her eyes gleam as they traveled up and down my muscular, tattooed arms and loose fitting T-shirts.  She wanted to know “what it was like” growing up where I did and “how it felt” to live in such a big city. 
    I tried my best to quench her curiosity. I painted my family as sort of a broke Huxtables.  I made my childhood seem full of love and hard work.  I made my parents the perfect pair, pushing me to go to college and achieve all the dreams they never did.  My father, the tireless provider, doling out hard-earned wisdom anytime I needed it.  My mother, overflowing with affection, pulling me into her embrace and wetting my face with kisses no matter how old I became.  And Natalie, ever the doting kid sister, bright and destined to follow in my footsteps.  It wasn’t long before the stories I told made them everything I had ever wanted them to be. 
    “They must be so proud of you,” Kerry said one day, smiling at me over a pile of books at our usual spot in the library.  She had asked why I rarely went home for a visit.  I lied and said I liked to use my weekends to get a head start on my course work.
    Before Kerry, I may have stepped into the library once.  After, I would feign intense studying for hours just to steal opportunities to make her blush and smile. 
    “You’re so cute, you know that?” I would whisper, sitting beside her, my lips inches from her ear.  “How am I supposed to get work done with you sitting over here looking so cute?”
    “Nate,” she