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She laughed before catching herself. “I’m so confused. This is Mara Daniels calling me?”

“Why’d you text me that last night? Inviting me to the hockey house?”

“Oh.” She yawned again.

I heard a male voice in the background, saying something.

She replied, sounding from a distance, “No, baby. Go back to sleep.”

Baby.

That was a nice ‘connecting’ term. I was jealous, hearing it.

“Why did I invite you to the hockey house? They had a party to celebrate their win yesterday. I actually thought you’d be there. Were you?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“That was it? No other reason?”

“Um, no? I mean, no. Wait. Are you talking about Blaise–”

“I know you’re aware about my mom.”

She got quiet, real quiet, after I said that.

She did. She knew or she would’ve been like, ‘Your mom? What about your mom?”

A few seconds later, she said, “Your mom? What about your mom?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You took too long for your response. I know you know.”

“I got a call about it, but I didn’t know if I should believe it. I actually didn’t until just now.” She asked, quiet, “Are you oka–”

“Do not ever invite me to another party.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

My eyes were stinging but I added, “Do not text me. Do not say hi to me. You see me on campus, and you don’t. You don’t see me. Got that? Do not pity me.”

She didn’t respond.

“Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, but Mara–”

I hung up, wishing I didn’t give a shit about what I did. That was a lie. Everything was a lie. Tasmin was being nice and not pitying me, but that same part of me knew she did pity me. A little bit, whether she’d ever admit it or not. I remembered her mom. Paid attention even though she didn’t go to the same school as me, but I still watched. I observed.

Tasmin had the family I never had, would never have.

Fuck, but also fuck.

I could go see Cruz.

I didn’t understand it. I didn’t want to understand it, but I just knew I could go now.

I couldn’t have gone before.

13

MARA

My hair was tucked under a baseball cap with a little spillage. Oversized sweatshirt. Leggings. Sneakers. I was hella comfortable and I knew in no way incognito, but the cap was pulled low, and I was sneaking past the cars in their driveway. I went up, and around, going to the little ledge by his main window. I knelt. His curtain was still pulled shut, but I reached for the window and found it unlocked.

I slid it open, moved aside the curtain, and surveyed his room.

The window was directly above his little couch. His bed was to the left, right in front of the door. He was still sleeping, on his side and under his blanket. I moved quietly, stepping down onto his couch and slid the window back in place.

His door wasn’t locked. I went over, locked it, and watched him for a second.

He looked so relaxed, I was second guessing if I wanted to wake him.

But no. I had to remind myself we were only fuck buddies, so I took my sweatshirt off, undid my bra, and toed off my shoes. Going to his bed, I lifted the sheet up and slid inside.

“Wha–oh!” Cruz came awake, rearing up. Realizing who I was, he relaxed. His head went back to his pillow, and he drowsily grinned at me. His whole face was soft from sleep. As I finished moving in, laying on my back and still on the edge, his hand went to my stomach, moving under my tank top. “I didn’t think you’d come over.”

“This okay?”

He nodded, his eyes darkening. He moved in, his mouth touching mine.

I always loved that first touch of our lips. That was my thing. I never told another person, but the first kiss always gave me tingles and warmed me up. But smelling his toothpaste, I pulled back. “You brushed your teeth recently?”

His eyes closed. “Went to the bathroom after we texted, thought just in case.” Then his eyes opened, and he grew a lot more focused. His mouth found mine again, this time it was more demanding, and just like always, I was swept up from the rush of his touch.

It wasn’t long before he moved over me, his body on mine and we kept kissing.

Closed mouth. Open mouth. With tongue. I loved all of it.

I loved how he peppered kisses down my throat, down my body.

How he bent over me, caressing one breast as he tasted my other one and all the while, rubbing against me as I was moving up and against him just as hard.

I fucking loved this.

He kept kissing me until it was torture.

I was writhing under him, straining for him, but he was taking his time.

I pulled back, gasping and out of breath. “What are you doing?”

He grinned down at me, grinding into me, and I groaned from the sensation. Cradling my head, his hand on the side of my face, he said, “I’m savoring you.” He went back to kissing me, his hand cupping my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple.

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