If you haven't already, please read the first installment of this story.

Hope of escaping the situation unscathed and unnoticed abandoned me when Steve spoke. Bitter and familiar guilt settled in my stomach. I shouldn't have fallen asleep next to Steve; I should've moved. For that I was guilty. Yet, I didn't really want to push him away, either, which made me feel guiltier still.

In the middle of my summoning the courage to repent before it really was too late, to right the circumstance before anyone else found out, a strange, new sensation burbled up from the pit of my heart and begged for me to take notice of it. I felt good. Steve's embrace was comfortable, natural. I wanted, needed to be held, touched, loved. Despite what the rules insisted, this wasn't wrong.

I opened my eyes. The interior of the bus had grown quite dim and devoid of colour and texture. As I'd slept, stern, angry thunderclouds had battled for and won control of the evening skies. I peered out into the greyness beyond the window, and found we were not more than 10 minutes from home.

"Don't worry. They're all asleep," Steve said. "Will you stay?"

I don't know how, but I managed a very tiny "yes."

Never again did we mention the others, or the possibility of being caught. We kept our affair quite secret. So much so, in fact, that had you asked me outright, I doubt I'd have been able to truthfully answer that we were having an affair at all. I kept it a secret from myself, too, you see. Some part of me had rationalised it all the way down, ‘til it no longer meant anything. That part of me contended that if I never gave what Steve and I were doing a name and a voice, then it simply didn't exist.

In the coming weeks, Steve and I danced with the devil, mindful that he could burn us, but choosing to ignore the flames. We met no more often than we ever had, but after the day on the bus, our time together took on a fragile, precious and coveted flavour of intensity. In the library, we rushed through our homework and filled the remainder of the study hour with quiet, lingering conversation and private smiles. We took advantage of every excuse to touch that presented itself, be it a dropped book we both reached for, a hand on the my shoulder as he reached over me to put away the dinner dishes, or sitting a little closer on the old porch bench while having that last cigarette before bedtime. Everyday was made up of stolen, secreted moments that warmed me every night as I fell asleep.

Late July. We'd been in the small, hot room well over 30 hours. This was my fourth Supplemental Session, Steve's second. By then, I could've scripted the Supplementals. They were all the same: No food or water and lots of crying and yelling. Well, except that each had a theme, and this one's theme was Love.

Love had begun like the Supplementals before it. Everyone took a turn at purging their most horrifying, dirty laundry. The staff running the Supplemental hurled accusations, told each of us how bad we were for what we'd done. They called us names like "whore," and "slut," and "bastard." It went on like this for many hours. Finally, the staff asked if we wanted to be good children, and reminded us that we must obey their rules, embrace their way of living if we ever wanted to be free. They usually gave us one last shot at redeeming ourselves before having us repeat the theme-tailored vows. This was the stage we were at now.

"Okay," Marni said, appraising us, "I want you guys to split into two groups. I'll take the Sexually-Actives. Roy will take the Nons."

I joined my deviant comrades in the semi-circle near Marni. Ours was the smaller of the two groups, with just Steve, me, and three others. Roy ushered his gaggle of eight kids into a tight clot, and when they settled into a hushed tone, Marni began.

"...And I go upstairs and I masturbate and I think about her."

Suddenly, quite suddenly and with a great deal of shrieking inner fright, I realised I hadn't been paying attention. What had Steve just said? And why the hell was everyone looking at me? Oh my god, even Roy's group had trailed off mid-sentence and were craning around to see and hear us better. What the hell had he just said? I know I didn't hear what I think I heard. He didn't say my name, did he? No, he couldn't have! He must've said Nina, not Gage. Right? Nina. Nina did it. They should be looking at her, not me!

Marni patted Steve's back. She told him it was alright, that he had to let go of that awful secret to be free. She nodded and smiled at him, but when she turned her gaze to me, it was one of contempt and rage.

"You filthy piece of trash!" she bellowed. "You little tramp. Don't you see what you've done to him?" She slapped me once, right across the face.

"I...I..."

"What did you do, Gage?" she asked.

"I don't understand," I said.

"What did you do? You must have done something! You must have slutted around him in some way to make him do what he's done."

"I what? I didn't do...I don't..." I stammered.

"It's always something with you, Gage. Always something. You're never going to be free. You're never going to learn."

When all was said and done, I spent five weeks on Dish Detail. Steve received no punishment; he was free.