I remember that night, and my insides tremble.
It was twenty-six years ago, about this time of year. A cool breeze brushed against my skin as my best friend and I walked down the street, to a friend’s party just around the corner. Anticipation jogged my heart beat faster because I knew he would be there. It was that guy — the one who flirted with me in Spanish class, the one who threatened guys in the hallway that I stared at a little too long. He was handsome, funny, forward, and like no one I had ever known. My fifteen-year-old-self was taken with him for all the wrong reasons, but taken nonetheless.