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Once our clothes are shed, Cash walks me back to his bed, his erection straining against my stomach. The space between my thighs floods with heat as he sucks on my bottom lip, carefully laying me down on his cool comforter.
I wrap my legs around his waist while he reaches between us and slides his fingers through my soaked folds.
"Wow," he grins as he begins rubbing circles around the swollen bundle of nerves he's neglected for months.
"It's been a little while," I give him a sheepish smile, "since we, you know."
His face flashes with an array of emotions. The most notable one is guilt.
"I know," he sighs. "I've been so stressed with graduation and Johns Hopkins."
All I manage to get out is a weak, "Yeah."
"Shoot," Cash drops his head onto my shoulder. "I don't have a condom."
"I'm on birth control," I remind him.
"I know," he exhales. "But double protection is better than single protection."
"If you're worried, just pull out," I shrug beneath him. It's not like he hasn't done it before.
His blue eyes are torn. I can feel how hard he is against my thigh, but getting his high school girlfriend pregnant would derail all his big plans. And his parents would never forgive him.
I place a hand on his chest and shove gently. "Let's just get dressed."
Before he can protest, I'm sliding on my underwear and shorts.
"Ingrid," he tries as I grab my bra off the floor and put it on. "We can... I can run to the store."
"No," I shake my head, holding in tears. "This is your goodbye party. You can't leave."
He checks the time on the Rolex his father bought him for Christmas. "We have, like, 15 minutes before everyone arrives."
"I'm good," I tell him as I straighten the hem of my shirt. "You should get dressed."
"What's going on?" Cash frowns.
I try not to stare at his still hard you know what. "I don't want to be the reason you're not at your party."
"Are you mad?" Cash guesses correctly.
"Does it matter?" I raise an eyebrow. "I mean, you haven't touched me in two months and, when you finally do, you can't figure out if you want to have sex because you don't have a condom. Why have I been on birth control for two years if you don't trust it to work?"
"Ingrid, I just can't deal with my—"
"Parents," I finish for him. "I know. But has it ever occurred to you that what I want matters, too?"
"You know—"
"It's always about you. Where you want to go to school and where you want to live. What your parents want you to do. I mean, this is our last summer together before you leave and you're going to Europe. Didn't you think to talk to me about it first?"
"I didn't think," Cash chews on his lower lip. "I thought you'd be fine with it."
"Our whole relationship has always been about you, Cash. And because I love you so much, I let it be that way. But if you want this to work, you have to start considering what I want, too."
Cash stands and crosses the room. "I will, Ingrid. I promise."
I want to believe him. I do. "You want to do long distance for four years?"
