DORIEN
The alcove behind Founder’s Hall and the clock tower is hidden and not used much. It’s the perfect meeting place for us. I’m tucked between two brick walls that my shoulders barely fit through. It’s not meant to be a walkway because it leads to a dead end; it’s only a small gap between buildings. I’ve been wedged here nine minutes so far.
I rub my hands together. Even though the air is so chilly I can see my breath, I haven’t felt the need to wear my gloves all day.
I’ve never gone an entire day without them. June’s warmth just lights me up from the inside.
Putain.Look at me.
A week ago at my studio, I lost a war I’d been losing since I was nine. I kissed her. After the cabin, after that night I spent certain another man’s hands were on her, I couldn’t resist any longer. I haven’t stopped wanting more since.
There’s movement at the end of the alcove. June. Chin up, a stride that dares the ground to be in her way, thumbs hooked over the lip of her jacket pockets. She slips into the gap and stops in front of me.
“You’re early,” she says.
“I was passing through.”
“You were not.”
“I was checking the time on the clock tower.”
“Liar.” Her mouth is already tilting up.
One of my hands threads through her hair, the other rests on her hip, and she rises onto her toes to meet me. She tastes of coffee as my mouth claims hers. She kisses me back like she’s been counting the same minutes apart that I have.
These secret rendezvous we’ve been having should worry me less each time, but I still have a knot of discomfort in my gut. I’m happier than I’ve been in years. The joy has been loosening parts of me I thought had hardened forever. And just one week in and we’ve found a rhythm: stolen minutes between classes, sneaking into her room at night like we’re teenagers, texting each other practically all hours of the day.
So why do I have this pit of dread?
I shove it away and put my mouth on her throat instead.
She sighs into me. “Just don’t leave a hickey.”
“Have I ever?”
“Yes. Two days ago. I’m running out of makeup to cover it.”
I suck lightly, teasingly, on her skin so she pushes me back. But I won’t let her escape that easily. My hand slides to the curve of her ass and grips, no manners about it. She giggles, and I love that girlish sound, so I kiss her again.
I’m already hard because my body has been craving more. I’m often thinking about laying her down somewhere with a lock and having all of her. But, as hard as it is to admit, I’m nervous. Last week I had my fingers inside her and nearly spilled just watching her face. I want our first time together to be perfect for her, so what if I screw it up with lack of experience?
She pulls back first, breath uneven. “You’re staring.”
“You look like a felony in that jacket.”
She giggles again. “And you look…” Her eyes wander over my leather jacket and she falls silent.
We make out some more, and I can’t resist pressing my hardness against her stomach. She moans against my mouth so I have to break the kiss. I’m getting too into this when I know I’m not yet ready for more.
It needs to be perfect for her.
“Thanksgiving’s in two weeks,” she says, picking at a thread on my collar. “Mom always makes too much food and there are candles everywhere. Carter pretty much eats the entire turkey himself. Wanna come?”
I pause to chew my lip and consider the implications. Of course, I’ll be free since my parents won’t be on the continent for Thanksgiving. They’ll probably call, but that’s it. Last year I ate takeout and watched a documentary about deep-sea fish. So yes, I want to have Thanksgiving with June. Obviously yes. But I hear the subtext of what she’s offering, and I make myself slow down.
“Is this you taking me public?” I ask. “Does your mom know about us?”
Her thumb goes still on my collar. “Uh, no. Not yet. If I tell my mom, I tell everyone. Then we’re a thing people have opinions about. Right now it’s just our secret thing no one can tarnish.”
