“Well, I’ll tell you.” Pull her closer to your shoulder. “I can’t break away from a funny idea I have about you. I want you to stay just as straight as you are. It’s a queer thing, sex. I don’t want you spoiled. That fine straightness of yours is so rare. I guess I’m selfish to want anyone to live up to my ideals, but I do want you to keep it.” Give her a little hug.
She answers gravely. “Yes, I know. I want to stay the way I am, too. I don’t know how I really feel about it, I guess, but I do—I mean, I like myself now, do you see? It’s awfully hard to express.”
“I know. Gee, you’re a peach, kid. I do like you.”
“Thanks....” Kiss her softly on the cheek. “Look!” she cries, sitting up a little straighter. “There’s a shooting star.”
“It’s awfully nice. Come back here. Afraid of me?”
“Of course not!” But she sits up.
“You don’t trust me?”
“Don’t! Of course I do.”
“Then why act like that? You’ll hurt my feelings.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to!” She settles back against your shoulder. Kiss her on the mouth; she struggles away.