He said it wouldnt matter to him whose baby it was, that it didnt change how he felt about me. Part of me wanted to hold him the other part wanted to...hurt him. It mattered to me whose baby I was carring! What about what I felt? I could feel the anger building, I told him I thought I should leave. That being around him wasnt a good idea, I was hurt and confused. I got out of the bed, stood up to leave, he walked toward me, put his arms around me, held me close to his chest. It felt so good to. "That's OK. My name's Denise. What's yours?"It was a strange feeling to have a girl take any kind of interest in me."Blake," I said."Okay, pal. Wanna hang out?" (I later learned that she had picked up ahabit from her grandfather, who could never remember anyone's name. Tohim--and to Denise--everyone was 'pal' or 'buddy.')"Sure," I agreed.Over the next few weeks, I spent a lot of time with Denise. She came tomy house once, but I caught the clear vibe of disapproval from myparents, so I mostly. More

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