I blow out a heavy breath and open my eyes to see her watching me, waiting. My response is instant. “I’ve loved you forever, Laney.”

I go slow with her, take my time, worship her body the way she deserves. She writhes beneath me, around me. Her skin’s light against mine, pale porcelain against sun-kissed tan, something I don’t notice until we’re tangled limbs on our bed. I spend a lot of time outside, running after my goals, after my brothers. She spends a lot of time inside… click click clicking with her knitting needles.

She giggles, makes a joke about it.

Then she comes once on my fingers.

Another time on my tongue.

She wants to do the same with me, but I know I won’t last, and it’ll be messy and “We’ll have time for that later,” I tell her. Besides, I want to be on top of her. Inside her.

She keeps condoms in a box under her bed. I don’t ask why. I don’t want to know. But I know she hasn’t done this before. I feel it when I enter her for the first time. She whimpers, and I ask if she’s okay. I kiss her neck, her jaw. I stroke her hair. She whimpers again, and I ask if she wants to stop. She doesn’t. “It’s perfect,” she says.

It is perfect.

She is perfect.

Every inch of her is perfect.

I want the moment to last forever.

But it can’t.

It’s hard to control your body, your lust, your desire. Especially when it’s connected to a girl you’ve been in love with before you had a grasp on what love was.

I pull back, kiss her once. Her fingers strum across my back. “It’s okay,” she whispers, then smiles. “We’ll have time for more later.”

She watches me slip my boxers back on, her dark hair a mess against the white pillowcase. Her cheeks are flush, strands of her hair caught in the sweat on her brow. She’s smiling, and I feel like a god that I caused that. I grab my phone off her desk and connect it to the charger on the nightstand. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for it to switch back on so I can make sure I have my alarm set. I’ll definitely need a run in the morning.

The bed shifts with her movements, and I turn to her, her fist wrapped around the blanket, covering her breasts so they’re not revealed when she sits up to kiss my bare back. I like that she finds it necessary to hide parts of her even though I’ve already seen them up close. She’s still shy. Still innocent. Still Laney.

I turn enough to kiss her forehead, taste the sweat. “You okay?” I ask again.

She shrugs, her chin on my shoulder. “I’m still a little sore.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“I’m not.”

My phone powers back on and she lays back down, her fingers stroking my back. My phone vibrates, again and again, and my eyes narrow as I pick it up, still connected to the charger. My pulse begins to race because I have no idea how long I’ve been here, no means of contact, but if something were wrong at home, Laney would be the first person they’d think to call. The alerts for messages and missed calls aren’t from home, though. It’s worse. My breath halts and the world shifts from this dream, this fantasy, to a harsh reality where the naked girl in the bed is not the girl who’s been calling all day, not my girlfriend.

“Is everything okay?” Laney asks.

And the only thing I can say is, “It’s Grace.”

Silence passes.

I don’t count the seconds.

“Oh my God, Luke,” she whispers, “What did we do?”

I turn to her, the girl I love, and I give her what she deserves. “You didn’t do anything, Lane. This is all me.”

“But—”

“But nothing, baby.” I kiss her forehead and dress quickly. She watches, thumb trapped between her teeth, tears in her eyes, and I know she’s hurting. She feels guilty, as if it’s her fault this happened, but it’s not. She didn’t cheat. I did. I didn’t even think of Grace—not once. I sit back on the bed and rest my hand on her leg. “Are we going to do this? You and me?”

She stares at me a moment, nods once, but she seems unsure.

“Then I have to take care of this. Tonight.”

“Okay,” she croaks, her gaze lowering.

“Lane, you know I’d love nothing more than to stay here with you, but I need to do this.”

“I know,” she says, but she doesn’t. She’s insecure, and I’m not surprised.

“Lane.”

She looks up, meets my eyes.

“I love you.”

Chapter Eight

LOIS

I expected Luke to call in the morning and offer me a ride, but then I realized it wasn’t just our first day back at school; it was Leo’s, too, and Logan’s first day of high school. So he’d be busy making sure everyone was set, probably fighting with Logan to get him out of bed. I look for him in the hallways, in the cafeteria, but our paths never seem to cross. I figure he broke up with Grace last night and might not want to rub it in her face by openly seeking me out. Luke’s an arrogant jock, but he has a heart of gold.

I send him a text.

Two.

Three.

He doesn’t respond.

I start to get giddy, wanting, needing to see him, because I spent all night tossing and turning and remembering what it felt like to have him on top of me, inside me, whispering words of love. He told me he loved me, more than once, and that has to mean something, right?

He has track practice after school, so I go to the library and leave with enough time to meet him outside the locker rooms when he’s done. I stand in the tunnel that joins the field to the locker rooms, and I wait amongst the captured wind flowing in and out. I become cold, because even though it’s summer, the sun’s not on me, it’s out there on the field with Lucas. So I reach into my bag, pull out a sweater, and shrug it on. It covers my eyes, blinds me for a moment, and when I can see again, there’s a guy standing in front of me—a guy I recognize but haven’t seen for years. He hasn’t changed much, though, same rich-kid haircut groomed to look perfectly messy, same dark eyes, same smirk that always makes him seem like he’s thinking about things he shouldn’t be thinking about. He should be at UNC, where he got in on the same scholarship that’s been promised to Luke, not standing outside the locker rooms of his old high school. Cooper Kennedy was your typical, entitled bad boy. Luke, along with many others, thought he was a dick. But he was also Luke’s competition our first/Cooper’s last year here. Even though they were technically on the same team, track wasn’t a team sport. And if Luke and I had heard the rumors, so had he. Luke was set to break his records, take his titles. And that meant they were enemies, on and off the field. “You’re Lois, right?” Cooper asks. “Preston’s friend?”

I nod.

“You’re all grown up,” he says. His eyes trail me from head to toe, and I don’t know what he’s looking at.

“And you’re still the same,” I tell him.

“Why so hostile?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and it’s true. I don’t know Cooper from shit on a stick. “I’m just waiting on someone.”