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"What the fuck did I do to deserve this, Vi?" He sets me down. His eyes are on fire, that look that screams I need you naked immediately. "You look hot as hell in that skirt."
"Do I?"
"You teasing me, honey? I'll get you back for that." His blue eyes light up as he smiles. He slides his hands to my ass and pulls me closer.
Then his lips are on mine and his tongue is in my mouth. This is the first time we've really kissed since it happened. This is the first time it's felt like everything really is going to be okay.
I soak in the feeling of his tongue dancing with mine. Then his hands are under my skirt. He presses his palm against my sex, over my panties.
His breath is heavy when he pulls back. "You're wet."
"Why do you think I want to go to your room?"
His smile widens. It's earnest. It's without defenses. The pain and distance of the last two months is already melting.
It's all in his eyes. I'm back. Grief isn't drowning me any longer. It hurts, yeah, but I can feel pleasure too.
God, the pleasure I can feel.
I take his hand and lead him to his room—Ethan lives with his parents too. He has other options, but he prefers it this way. His parents are always out of town. He and his older brother don't want their teenage sister stuck in the big house all by herself.
His room is clean and bright. With the window open, the whole place smells like the ocean.
Ethan slides his hands to my hips. "How about you come on my face before we talk?"
"How about after?"
"How about you come on my hands then my face after?"
"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Strong."
He smiles and presses his crotch into mine, so I can feel his erection. "You have no fucking idea how badly I want you right now."
"Ethan…" I'm buzzing everywhere. I stare into Ethan's gorgeous blue eyes. This is an important moment. I want to remember every second of it.
"You gonna tell me or you gonna give me blue balls?" he teases.
He has an excellent point. I need to tell him so we can move on to the celebrating properly part.
"I got in." I pull my letter from my pocket, unfold it, and offer it to him. "I got into the master’s program at NYU."
He's not smiling.
He's not scooping me into his arms and spinning me again.
He's not happy. His eyes are turned down and his brow is furrowed.
He takes the paper and reads it slowly. "You're moving to New York City?"
"It's only for two years." I reach for his bicep but he pulls his arm away. "I told you I applied."
"You said there was no chance you'd get in."
"I thought there wasn't."
"You're supposed to tour with us all summer. You're supposed to start that job here in November." His eyes fill with frustration.
But that doesn't make any sense.
