We're only three class sessions in and I'm already behind? And to hear it from him? This buttoned-up Bible-thumper I can't get out of my head?

To her, not packing our lunches every day or joining the PTA is a feminist rallying cry.

He's not recruiting me to the oiled-up Gay Bliss Club of Northern Utah, but to the LDS Church.

I can't read him. I can't grasp him. I have no idea what he's thinking and if he's messing with me or if he really is this good, but never before have I wanted so fiercely to learn forward and put my mouth on someone's neck, begging them to want me.

This is how we reveal ourselves: these tiny flashes of discomfort, the reactions we can’t hide.

But then I met you,' he says.

Something is happening between us. Something has been happening between us since our eyes met on the first day of class. I want to see him before he leaves town. I don't care what Mom says. I don't care what the doctrine is. After all, it's not my church.

Don't worry about it,' I say, starting to reach my hand out to shake his, before pulling it back in because what the hell am I doing?Sebastian notices, extending his hand before pulling it back too.'Ignore that,' I say.He laughs, confused but clearly amused. 'It's like your first day with a new arm.

I like you,' I say. But when I look over, I see that these words aren't enough; they don't clear away the expression on his face. 'And I know your church doesn't allow that kind of feeling.