Page 151 of Johnny

She hesitates. And I give her a moment. Because I’m done making choices for her. After a few

moments she gives in and looks up to meet my gaze. “What?” she whispers. “What now?”

“I’m gonna say one last thing and then I’m gonna drop it for a while. Mostly because I’ve got other

things on my mind…” I look down at her body. Her nipples are hard and erect underneath the thin

cotton of her tank top. Then back up at her eyes. They’re blue with little swirls of green. I poke a

finger between her breasts. Not hard, but enough pressure for her to understand that I’m being serious.

“You’re in charge of your life, Megan. No one else, just you. And this is cool in a lot of ways. But it

sucks too. Because in the end it means you’re the one responsible for the outcomes. All of them. No

matter what shitty deck you’re dealt. No matter how out of control things seem. No matter how many

corners you find yourself backed into.” I poke her again. “You’re responsible for all of it. Do you

understand me?”

She sighs. Like she wants to add an asterisk to the end of my statement.

“The answer I’m looking for is, ‘Yes, Johnny. I get it. No one’s in charge of me but me.’”

“It’s just not true,” she says. “That’s just not true. Do you think those people in the lab—”

I stop her with a firm fingertip placed over her lips. “I’ll explain that better later. But not now.

Right now I want you to choose me.”

Again, she hesitates. But I’m not going to save her this time. I’m not going to make it easy. Finally,

she says, “What does that even mean?”

“I’m glad you ask.” I grin at her and she almost… almost smiles. I’ve been told, on the rare

occasions when I offer up real smiles, that they are charming. So I know I’m getting through to her.

All my fingertips are suddenly playing with the hem of her shirt, flitting along the edge of the soft

cotton like they have things to do. “It means I want to kiss you.”

“You already did that.”

“I mean really kiss you. What I did before?” I shrug. “That was simply getting your attention. And it worked. But you handed me back something less than honest and now I want the real thing.”

She makes a face and huffs out a breath.

“So kiss me,” I say.

“Me?” She points to herself. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes. Because last night when we were out in the ocean I made the decisions for you. And I’m

going to assume you were on board because you didn’t protest, but tonight—after what happened

today—that’s no longer good enough. Tonight I need more. Tonight I need you to choose.”