2.24a

I can't fit into the pants I wore when I was twelve. She can. I found them in the closet at mom's.

We've never broken any rules. I drive the speed limit. She walks in crosswalks. We make our parents proud. We've never broken any rules until tonight. I threw her in my parents' pool and we swam around in our clothes until midnight or one. It got so I couldn't see anything, and I kicked her accidentally once or twice and she splashed me in the face, so I dunked her.
I took her back to my room, trying not to drip so loudly that we might wake my parents. We peeled the wet clothes off like husks from corn. No lights. No touching. The rules are back. No noise. No impropriety. I rummaged around in the drawers for a while and gave up. I could hear her trying to get out of her wet jeans, but they sounded like tearing paper when she tugged on them. I chose to not think about her legs. On the top shelf of the closet in a box too big for its own good, I found a pair of pants I wore when I was twelve. I pulled them out and tried to hand them to her in the dark, but all I could see was hints and shadows.
"Lucy?"
"What?"
"I found some pants. Where are you?"
"Here."
"Where is here?"
She walked into my outstretched arm and I could feel her stomach hot against my hand. We both paused in that moment, nude and invisible. I could feel the space between us collapsing. I could feel my own self collapsing--into a tiny shape no bigger than a soul, until all I could feel was the heat of her skin through the beads of water. I felt bigger than the moon. She breathed, though, and I felt her shift against me. It broke the moment.
We struggled into the clothes I could find and scuttled off to sleep in the beds we shouldn't share. We hadn't seen each other, but I felt like I had slept with her already.