“Hello?” I answered as my cell rang. “Come over my house,” Lionel’s voice said. I raised an eyebrow. “How did you get my cell number?” I asked in annoyance. “Details,” he said dismissively. I rolled my eyes and hung up.

                “I’m going to Brewer’s,” I lied to my mom as I pulled on my shoes. “Okay. Have fun EJ!” she said with a small smile. I waved to her and left the house.

                “Where you going, EJ?” Tommy asked me curiously. He was cleaning his car outside. “I’m heading over to Brewer’s,” I lied casually. He smiled at me and nodded. “Text me if you need a ride home,” he said. “Thanks,” I mumbled and made my way down the street towards Lionel’s house.

                I rang his doorbell and he opened the door and let me in. “Andy Cali and his dad were looking at houses today, so I figured I’d use you to kill some time,” he said with a shrug. He led me into his living room and dropped on his couch. I sat next to him and he brought up Netflix on his TV.

                He put on Shriek and we leaned back. Lionel lazily slung his arm around me. “I ain’t romantic, by the way brah,” he said. “Me either, but I’m educated enough not to say ain’t,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. He smirked.

                He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against mine. I deepened the kiss and he pushed me back on the couch and crawled on top of me. I tangled my hands into his hair and pulled him closer to me.

                He bit my bottom lip and I opened my mouth, allowing his tongue in. He gently massaged my tongue with it. He cupped my face in his hands and I felt his sewn on fingers twitch weakly against my cheek.

                I understood my attraction to Lionel. Part of it was the confidence he held, part of it was his extremely good lucks, but most of it was that he understood. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he understood. It wasn’t his fingers or my eye that was the pain. The scars they held were nothing compared to ones we now carried within. Our own dads had hurt us. Even if it had been on accident, it had permanently affected us.

                Lionel’s fingers would never work right again and I would never have sight in my eye again. But it was the very fact that it was our dads’ faults that hurt the worse. Lionel felt the same pain on the inside that I did. He may not show it, but I could see it in his eyes. He felt it, too.

                Lionel pulled away from me and sat up, pulling me with him. He kissed me again before turning his attention back to the movie casually. I laced my fingers with his bad ones and he stared down at our hands.

                “It doesn’t creep you out?” he asked quietly and I shook my head. He sighed. “Everyone else gets creeped out by it. No one holds that hand. They don’t like to be touched by it, either,” he said and shrugged, pretending it didn’t bother him. But it did. I could see that.

                He looked at my bandana, curiosity clear in his eyes. Now it was my turn to shrug at him and pretend not to care. “You can take the bandana off, if you want,” I said, my voice neutral. He wouldn’t like what he saw.

                I wore the bandana not only to hide the thing that had once been my eye, but to protect myself and my mom from having to see it every day. After the accident, I had begun to wear the bandana every day and avoiding mirrors. I hated to see that gash on my face.

                Lionel traced his good fingers over it gently but didn’t make any movements to get it off of my eye. “Your mom spoils you because she feels bad,” he said curiously and I nodded, even though it hadn’t been a question. “Does yours?” I asked and he shrugged. “Kind of,” he said and pulled his hand away from the bandana.

                He smirked at me. “Virgin status?” he guessed and I nodded. “Nice,” he said. “You’re not?” I asked curiously and he shrugged and shook his head. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a man whore or anything. Save it for the right one, I say,” he said and kissed me.

                I nodded again and found myself resting my head on his shoulder. “You’re so short Lionel,” I muttered and he rolled his eyes. “Yes, I am painfully aware of my lacking height. I like to call it vertically challenged,” he grumbled.

                “Your parents aren’t short,” I said, just to talk. I liked hearing Lionel’s voice. He sighed in annoyance. “I’m aware of that, too. My grandparents on my mom’s side were really short. My family’s genes decided to be assholes and skip a generation,” he said.

                “Midget,” I grumbled and he punched me and stuck his tongue out. “Cyclops,” he whined, and I punched him right back. We glared at each other.

                “Damn you, Johnny,” he mumbled and leaned forward, kissing me. I let him. He pulled back and eyed my bandana again. He pulled his fingers away from mine and brought them up to the bandana. I felt them weakly struggling to get a grip on it.

                He finally managed to wrap two of his fingers around it. He looked deep into my good eye and kissed me again before concentrating hard on his bad fingers and pulling the bandana up to reveal my ruined eye.