"No," he argued, "I love you."
Michael wanted me.
He wanted me more than he wanted to find his sister. He wanted me more than he wanted to entertain the role of the good older brother.
Michael wanted me.
I wanted him too, I realized. And I didn't want to lose him to you.
I kissed him.
Suddenly, I was twelve years old me again.
I was meeting Michael for the first time. We were seated in your backyard with ice-cream for dessert, waiting for you to return with yours. And he was leaning in to kiss me.
Only, this time, he was pulling my jumper over my head and helping me onto my back.
This time, we were puppy whimpers into each other's mouths and the realization that we were older now. We wanted more than ice-cream kisses.
…
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Love you all.