Rubbing his hands up and down my arms, he smiled, telling me wordlessly that it was nothing. Wow, youre arms are freezing, Holls. Come over by the fir.... His fingers slipped in between mine as he took my hand and led me over to the small fire (only referred to as a bonfire for the sake of tradition) in the center of the sand. The act was simple, merely grabbing my hand in order to lead me over, but all the nerves in my hand seemed to ignite at once. Not only was my hand in his, but he had. Devon was a guy that I had known back in high school; a person that I had given a ride home to a number of times and whose study hall table I had sat at my sophomore year. Devon, was two years ahead of me in school and had always been very nice to me. He had also been an outstanding athlete. Devon was well-liked in high school and had been elected President of his class. Everyone knew that Devon was the heart-throb of all the black girls in school; they all wanted to go out with him. I knew. More

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