i give in to the itch to touch her and start at her bare shoulder , dragging a finger along until i can curve my whole hand around the back of her neck . this universe is his field ; he is the farmer and were the seeds that he has planted . i do n't turn to see who entered . her hand found my upper arm and squeezed it . she looked at him with a hint of frustration . then one night , back in ninety-eight my eighteenth birthday . 