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Her skin was warm, and she could feel things in her body tightening, tightening. She had no doubt that if she looked down, two embarrassingly obvious points would be visible against her tank top. This was what arousal felt like. Real, in-person arousal. Not the secondary kind she sometimes got from reading books or watching movies. She wet her lips, and his gaze drifted down to her mouth, lingering there before tracing back up.
Whoa.Was he actuallythinkingabout it?
You’re going to have to surprise them.His words came back to her, daring her. When would she ever be this close to Auden again? On a surge of bravery, she grabbed his wrists, his hands still on her shoulders, and she forced herself to hold the eye contact. She lowered his hands, bringing his body closer.
“What are you doing, Shaq?” he asked, his voice low and tense.
“Something surprising.” She pushed up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
His wrists stiffened in her grip like he’d curled his fists, and he made a sound in the back of his throat. His lips were soft and tasted faintly of grapefruit and salt. She shifted even closer. Her chest brushed his, setting her nerve endings on fire. She had never kissed anyone and had no idea what she was doing or what to do next. All she knew was that she was kissing Auden Blake.
His lips parted hers, and the control shifted, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and gently stroking. Electricity crackled through her, and her hands went to his waist to steady herself, afraid her knees might buckle. He braced his hands on the counter on each side of her, trapping her there and deepening the kiss. She drank in the taste of him, his breath, the confident way he coaxed her tongue to move with his. She drew closer to him, needing contact everywhere. Their bodies pressed together, and his began to harden against hers—his verymalebody.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.Every part of her clenched in anticipation of being touched, of being able to touch him.
But then a door slammed, and Auden broke away from the kiss instantly, taking a big step back and glancing toward the kitchen doorway like it was going to explode in their faces. He turned back to her, a slightly panicked look in his eye. “Jesus, O’Neal, I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have—”
She cleared her throat, trying to find her voice again, trying to sound confident even though her knees felt like they were about to quit their job of holding her up. “Don’t be. I started it.”
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He raked a hand through his hair, looking ten kinds of uncomfortable, and then adjusted the front of his swim shorts to hide what she’d been feeling against her stomach. “No, that was my fault. I shouldn’t have let that happen. I—you’re a kid.”
She’d been staring in stunned awe at where his hand had been, but at the wordkid,she reared up like she’d been pinched. “No, I’m not. I’m eighteen. You just said—”
“You’re in high school,” he said, cutting her off but keeping his voice low. “And I’m—”
“Two years older than me. Big deal,” she said, feeling bold.
“On the timeline, it’s two years. In real life, it’s a lot more than that.” He sighed and gave her a look she could only read as pity. “Look, Shaq, that can’t happen again. That was…a momentary lapse in judgment on my part. I’m glad you’re ready to make some bold choices. But I can’t be one of them. I’m not a boy who’s gonna hold your hand in the hallway and ask you to prom. You’ve got lots of steps left to take on paths I’ve already been down.”
Her cheeks burned, her entire being feeling stupid and chastised and childish. His words proved that he’d definitely been able to tell that she’d never kissed anyone before. He probably felt embarrassed for her. She’d never felt so silly and young.
But at the same time, a different emotion was surging up behind the embarrassment.Anger.Not really at him, but at all of it. That she was so ill-equipped for this. That she didn’t have a mom to talk her through these things. That she was eighteen years old and this had been the first time she’d kissed a boy. That she was so sheltered, she didn’t know how to interact with a guy only two years older than she was. That even if she wanted to go to prom with someone, she couldn’t because she wasn’t allowed to date or go to school dances.
She was eighteen, and all her life choices had already been decided for her. She would not be the party girl. She would not make teenage mistakes. She would always get the A. Her school would be this and her major would be that. She would be the proof that her grandparents could raise a fine young woman, no,a good girl.
She didn’twantto be a good girl. She didn’t want to be bad either or disappoint the people she loved. But in that moment, she could no longer bear the idea of going to a college that was just like her high school—insulated, protected, controlled. She didn’t want to major in English and only go to classes with other privileged, protected girls. She wanted to experience life outside the bubble. She wanted to make her own decisions. She wanted to grow the hell up.
The noise of Maya and her mother dropping shopping bags in the foyer broke O’Neal out of her whirling thoughts. Auden was staring at her, looking concerned. “Shaq, say something. I feel like such a dick.”
She reached out and squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”
“What?” His brow wrinkled.
“Even if it was a mistake, I’m glad my first kiss was with you and not some random guy. And don’t call me Shaq anymore.”
Horror flashed across his face. “Your first—Goddammit.”
She handed him her drink. “Don’t tell Maya I stopped by. I’ll call and tell her something came up. I need to go.”
Auden tried to say something else, but she was already heading for the back door.
A few hours later, her application for a new college and their journalism program was sent in and completed. There was a pit a mile deep in her stomach, and the next morning, she’d instantly doubted the move and had chalked it up to a moment of hormone-induced insanity. She’d almost let herself forget about it. She’d let the application process for Wainwright continue as normal.
But now the response from that night’s rebellion was sitting in an inbox on her phone, and she needed to open it.
After taking another deep breath, she walked toward her bed and unzipped her backpack. The phone felt awkward in her hand, heavier somehow. She knew the email would say that she’d gotten in. But that wasn’t the question she needed answered. She’d need more than an acceptance. She needed…everything.
With shaking hands, she sat on the bed and opened the mail app. Part of her hoped the answer was a no, that the decision would be yanked from her, that fate would tell her to stay put. That would be so much easier. Yet, her heart pounded with hope.
