“I have something you can do for me today.”

“What?”

“Take me shopping. I’ve grown out of pretty much everything from last year. My mom went with me before school started and I got a couple suits and uniforms, but that’s about it.”

“I can help you with that. We’ll go everywhere. Rag & Bone, Neiman, Saks, Bendel, Vuitton, Lauren, Burberry, and Barneys.”

“Perfect. I’ll get us a car for the day.”

By late afternoon he says, “You're a little too good of a shopper. I'm tired, broke, and starving.”

“We better feed you, then, and I know just the place.”

I take him to Serendipity 3, mostly because of their desserts. And I’m feeling decadent.

“Now I need a nap,” he says, patting his tight stomach. Figures. He can eat the fried chicken dinner, the chocolate blackout cake, three-fourths of my sundae and still look hot. I had a grilled chicken sandwich, some fruit, a fourth of the sundae, and I’m totally bloated. I suck my stomach in and suggest a carriage ride through Central Park.

I’m pretty sure that Aiden didn’t see much of Central Park. I’m not even sure where we were. I just know he kept kissing me.

When the carriage comes to a halt back where we started and we get into our town car, I say, “You want to smoke a cigarette on the steps of the Met, like they do in the Gossip Girl books?”

He looks at me kinda funny. “I don’t smoke.”

“I don’t either, but I would. Like there. Just to say I did.”

“I was thinking that you didn’t get to do any shopping. If there’s one store you could go back to, where would it be?”

“Barneys.”

“Shoes or bags?”

“Well, handbags are on the first floor. Maybe we should start there and work our way up?”

He holds my hand as I stand in front of what is my purse Mecca. A rainbow of Proenza Schouler handbags in beautiful colors.

“You have a lot of these bags, don't you?”

“Yeah, I'm kinda obsessed. I love all the colors. Their classic style.”

“You don't have that purple one, do you?”

“No, not yet. But let’s go upstairs and check out the clothes.”

“What about shoes?”

“Um, I have enough shoes,” I say, with very little conviction.

Aiden looks at me funny. Obviously, he knows I love shoes. “Okay, well, clothes it is, then.”

We go upstairs and I have fun trying on clothes for Aiden. And it works out really well because I barely leave the dressing room. He keeps bringing me more to try on. Maybe I could send him down for shoes.

“I found three more dresses for you to try on,” he says from outside the door.

I open the door and show him the cute dress I just tried on. The dress that is screaming and throwing a temper tantrum at me for new boots to go with it.

“That’s cute,” he says. “What do you think of these?” He holds up three gorgeous gowns.

“I guess I do need another rainy day dress,” I tease.

“That or a dress for Winter Formal.”

“I like getting dressed up,” I say, grabbing the gowns to try on.

He shakes his head and grins at me. “While you do that, I’m gonna run down to the men’s department and get that wallet I saw earlier.”

“Okay,” I say happily.

When he comes back up, I’m dressed and paying. He grabs all my bags and carries them for me.

“So what do you want to do next?” he asks, as we slides into the car.

“I’d love to go home. Relax. Maybe have a movie marathon? Or watch some football?”

He kisses me in response and then tells the driver to take us back home.

I take my bags into my closet and decide what I want to take to school and what I want to leave here. Then I throw on a comfy pair of stretchy Free People tie-dyed jeans, an oversized cream sweater, and some cream cabled mule slippers.

I find Aiden in my kitchen making snacks. His phone is on the counter quietly playing something jazzy and soulful. He looks so at home in my kitchen. So at home everywhere I am.

Then I notice a big Barneys box lying on the island. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to it.

“That’s for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, open it.”

I slowly untie the ribbon, lift off the lid, and slide open the tissue. “Ohmigawd, Aiden! I fucking love you!” I scream, pulling out the purple handbag—that I wanted but didn’t buy—and hugging it.

His eyes get big.

“Oh, I mean, I, like, love that you got it for me. I was trying to be good.”

“You bought two gowns, six bags of clothes, and the four pairs of shoes they brought up to the dressing room for you.”

“I know. That's why I didn't get the purse. I was trying to being good.”

He laughs at me, but as I’m clutching the purse, I realize, “Look! It even matches my outfit.”

“Do you need a matching purse to watch movies upstairs?”

“Well, I didn’t before, but I do now.” I set the purse down, walk into Aiden’s arms, and kiss him. “Thank you. Really. It was so unnecessary but so incredibly sweet. And you surprised me. I love surprises.”

“Good,” he says, as he spins me out of his arms, dancing with me. He spins me tightly back into his arms, kisses the tip of my nose, and then spins me back out.

I’m not sure if it’s the spins or the kisses that are making me feel dizzy.

“I was thinking since we had a big late lunch that we’d just have snacks.”

“That sounds good. What can I make?”

He picks me up and sets me on the kitchen island.

“You watch. I'll cook,” he says as he puts a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

“I’m not sure I’d call throwing a bag of popcorn in the microwave cooking,” I tease.

“I make it special.”

You make everything special, I think.

He's in and out of the fridge gathering ingredients. The microwave dings and he dumps the popcorn in a bowl then puts another bag in.

Then he stops and looks at me.

I smile at him. It sounds lame to say I smile at him but I do. He looks so damn sexy. His something comfortable is a tight white tank top and a thick pair of navy Abercrombie sweatpants that are just a little too short even though they're riding low on his hips.

He saunters over, wiping his hand on a dishtowel, and kisses me.

And kisses me.

Something starts to smell funny. My brain is a little fuzzy, but Aiden stops kissing me, and runs over to the microwave.

“Shit. You made me forget about the popcorn,” he says, laughing as he grabs a black smoking bag out of the microwave and carries it out to the deck. “Burnt popcorn smells so bad.” He puts another bag in and then pulls me back into his arms for a few more kisses.

The microwave dings. He doctors up the popcorn, then hands me a tray full of junk food.

I jump off the counter and carry it upstairs.

We get our trays situated on the coffee table, snuggle on the couch, and start the first movie.

He holds a piece of popcorn up to my mouth, so I open my mouth and taste it.

“Oh, that's good. What's on it?”

“Butter, of course, with some seasoning salt, Worcestershire sauce, and a little Parmesan cheese.”

“And don't forget the pretzels.” I take a sip of diet Coke to cleanse my pallet. “What's the other kind?”

“Taste.”

“Oh, that's good too. Spicy.”

“Hot wing sauce, butter, and a little cayenne pepper.”

“They're both really good, Aiden. How'd you learn to make them?”

“When my mom was going through chemo, she was tired a lot, so we watched movies together. And popcorn was one food that usually didn't make her feel sick.”

I get tears in my eyes. I don't know why. But Aiden just touches me.

I nuzzle my face into his chest and try to focus on the movie.

But it doesn’t work because Aiden keeps kissing me.

And after careful observation, I’m now one hundred percent certain that his tongue is laced with love potion.

That’s why he was saving it. He has to be careful who he uses it on.

My phone rings on the coffee table, breaking the spell a little. Aiden doesn’t stop kissing me. He just opens one eye, grabs my phone, and says, “It was Maggie. She’s called three times. You better call her back.”

We both sit up.

I take my phone from him and call her as he heads down the stairs.

“Keatyn, thank goodness. I need to talk to you!”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, as I follow him to the kitchen.

“I can’t make a decision. I’m thinking I might sleep with Logan tonight.”

“If you think it’s right. Do you think it’s right?”

I look at Aiden. Wondering if I could ever forget the way he looks standing in my kitchen.

“It seems too soon,” she says. “Which makes no sense because we’ve already done it.”

“If you think you should wait, then wait,” I suggest. I hit the mute button on my phone and whisper to Aiden. “I’m gonna change real quick. This outfit is too hot.”

He nods as Maggie says into my ear, “You’re probably right. Are you and Aiden having fun?”

“Yeah, we’re having fun.”

“At least someone is,” she says.

I start to say Not that kind of fun, but she’s already hung up.

I strip my clothes off and throw on my short cashmere robe. It’s snuggly, but much cooler than the outfit I had on. Aiden radiates heat off his body and the robe has the added bonus that it would be super easy for him to slide his hands under.

When I walk back in the kitchen, Aiden goes, “Was Maggie talking about Logan? If so, I think you gave her some good advice.”

“Logan is her root. She needs to give it some time.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was her first love. She needs to figure out if she really loves him or if he’s just her first love.”

“Logan has no idea what he’s up against,” Aiden says with a laugh.

I slide my body up next to him and coo sexily, “Right now, you’re up against me.”

“And just getting here has taken a lot of patience.”

“You don’t need to be patient any more.”

“Actually,” he sighs, “I need to be very patient.”

“Why? Why can’t we just have some fun?”

“Because us, this, is not about fun.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s serious.”

I decide he’s being a little too serious. So I move out of his embrace and pour us each of shot of Patron Silver.

“Here’s to not having fun,” I say sarcastically, as I raise my shot glass in the air.

He sets my full shot glass down, along with his, picks me up, and carries me to my bed.

He lays me down, then pushes his hand into his pocket.

Ohmigawd. Is he getting out a condom?

Please.

Please.

Let it be.

I make it into a little song.

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be, little shiny foil wrapper, let it be. Oh. Let. It. Be.

Instead, he pulls out two feather earrings.

He runs the feather across my lips and then squiggles it down my neck.

“Aiden, wait.”

“Why?”

“It’s my turn.” I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it up over his head.

I have to admit, I take great pleasure in teasing him with the feather.

He’s lying on his back and I’m sitting on top of him. Straddling his waist.

I rub the feather lightly all over his chest. His neck. His perfectly shaped arms. Across his abs. In a little tickle motion up his sides. Across his neck. His face.

And. I’m. Dying.

Seriously.

I’m so freaking turned on I can barely stand it.

Grandpa and I had an interesting discussion this past summer about spurs. About whether or not they hurt the horse. Grandpa says there’s nothing wrong with spurring a horse on.

I think maybe that’s just what’s called for here.

I glide the feather across the waistline of his pants.

He closes his eyes for a minute and I realize this is my chance. I keep moving the feather across his skin while I slide out of my robe. So now, I’m sitting on him, naked except for a pair of lavender boy shorts.

I continue to run the feather across him, but I’m dying for him to open his eyes.

I’m afraid for a minute that he has fallen asleep.

But then he opens his eyes. There’s enough light that I can see the surprise in them.

He sucks in air like he just ran a set of sprints, then breathes deeply.

I bite my lip. All of a sudden, I’m nervous.

He shuts his eyes tightly. “Put that back on.”

What?! What the fuck? Is he serious?

I don’t say anything. I don’t even move.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re putting it on,” he says.

I find my voice. “I’m not. I like it off. I thought you would like it off.”

“Please put it back on.”

It’s very hard to have a conversation with someone when their eyes are closed. I can’t use my puppy dog eyes or my pout. “No.”

“If you don’t put it back on, I’m leaving.”

“Why do you have to be so freaking stubborn? And why does it always have to be what you want?”