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The butterflies slam back in all at once. I have zero idea what to do with my face. I swallow hard, my mouth going dry.

“Oh,” I say like his words haven’t lit a fire inside of me.

“Yeah.” He blows out a breath and runs his fingers through his hair.

I pick at the corner of the page. “That’s not…a scientific reason to change beds.”

“It’s a pretty good personal one.” He sighs. “I don’t date, Quinn.”

“I…I know…” My forehead crinkles at his words. Did I ask him to date me? I don’t think I did. I just like being around him.

“I’m okay with one-night stands,” he presses.

I nod. “I…uh…also know that.”

I shift uncomfortably, wanting to hide behind my book.

“And you’re okay with that?” He doesn’t quite meet my eyes.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He watches me like the answer matters more than it should. I don’t know what box I’m supposed to check. I’ve never felt like this before. Friends. Tutoring. Roommates. Homework buddies. I didn’t put the idea of dating on the table, he did.

“I didn’t ask you for that,” I say, quieter. “I asked why you moved.”

Something flickers across his face, guilt, maybe. Then something shifts in his eyes, and he shakes his head as if to clear it. “You’re right. Sorry.”

He stays where he is. And my stomach tightens again. He watches me, and I can see the moment he decides what he’s going to do next, and it’s not what I expected.

“Hey. We missed a lesson last week because of my game. If you’re done with reading, we could practice now.”

I’m on a rollercoaster. Is this what Katy Perry was singing about?

“Lesson?” I ask just to make sure I’m not jumping to the wrong conclusions. Maybe he wants me to tutor him, but we didn’t miss that last week.

He rolls his lips together and itches the hair above his ear. “The kissing lesson?”

Heat floods my face. “Oh.”

“Only if you want.” He taps the space beside him, then his thigh, like he’s offering both. “Come here.”

He crooks his finger at me and the butterflies are back with a vengeance, batting around like they have a permit to tear it all down and rebuild whatever they want in the place of my heart.

I look down at my book, even though I’ve already made my decision. I would never pass up kissing him.

“I’m done reading,” I say.

I shut the book and go to him. He watches me the whole way. His eyes run over me in a way that I can feel all the way to my toes.

His bed is higher than mine. I climb up on my knees, hesitating for half a second before swinging my leg over his thighs and settling in his lap. Not all of my weight at first, then more, because he tips his chin down in a silent instruction of what he wants from me, and I can read him like this now. My hands slip up his arms to his shoulders, and he smiles.

I used to flinch when Lincoln would casually put his arms over my shoulder and left it there too long. Or when Christine would want a hug. Touch has always been something I endured for the people I love.

This is nothing like endurance.

Daniel’s shirt is warm under my palms. I can feel each breath through my hands. The contact doesn’t make me want to squirm away. It sits in my nervous system like a thing I want more of, which is strange enough that I would never be able to say it out loud. Crave is a dramatic word. But it’s also the most accurate one. I crave this.

My eyes dip to his lips. He wets them, his pink tongue slipping out and teasing me. I can’t wait to press my mouth to his. Maybe I can kiss his throat today, too. Graduate to the next level. We’ve been on kissing for a while. And it never fails to leave me so horny that I need a shower to take care of myself.