"You want me to stop?" He sounds panicked.

I am panicked. "Fuck no."

"Good," he says, our eyes locking. His fingers work while my hand moves up and down.

"Oh my God."

His fingers...

"Oh my God."

In. Out.

"Oh my God," I repeat.

"Lucy, I'm so close."

In. Out.

"Cameron!"

"Kiss me."

So I do.

My eyes roll to the back of my head.

My hips jerk forward. And if possible, he gets even harder in my hands.

His mouth.

His fingers.

"FUCK!" I moan.

And then it happens. Over and over. And over. And over. It builds. Slow. But fast.

I roar. ROAR. My head thrashes, smashing against the wall behind it.

He comes at the same time—on my hand, his jeans, my shirt, everywhere.

My body goes limp.

He pulls back, his eyes closed and his jaw tense.

His breathing is heavy, matching mine. His eyes open but they seem distant.

"Oh my God."

A hint of a smile forms on his perfect face. "Was that okay?

I nod.

"We should probably clean up."

I chuckle as he walks to the sink. He runs the tap and leads my hands under the running water. When I'm done, he uses a hand towel to clean my shirt, his jeans, and then finally his hands. I sit up on the counter and wait for him to finish. When he is, he looks at me with eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.

"That was amazing," I tell him, wrapping my legs around his knees and bringing him between me.

He finishes buttoning his jeans and rests his forehead on my shoulder. "You were amazing." He kisses my neck, up my jaw and to my mouth. "We should probably get out of here before we do something stupid."

I laugh. "I think I need a drink."

*

He gives me a drink.

I ask for more.

And now I'm puking into the bushes while he holds my hair out of the way. "I'm sorry, babe. I should've stopped you."

It's not his fault. I wanted to drink so that I could stop myself from raping him in public.

"Oh my God," I mumble, thinking about the way his fingers felt inside me.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

I puke again.

When I'm done, he helps me to sit down on the sidewalk. He was halfway to helping me get to the car when my stomach decided it didn't want whatever was in there.

"Are you okay?"

I nod, but my head is heavy and I'm ridiculously tired all of a sudden.

"Will you be alright here while I get the car?"

I nod again.

"Just don't talk to anyone, okay? I'll be quick."

I see him stand, his phone halfway to his ear before I drop my head and take a nap.

Naps are good.

"Hey." I hear a girl’s voice from above me. I don't recognize it but I know it's not Tess and her clapping vagina. "Are you okay?"

I lift my head—too quickly.

She's with others, but she tells them to get the car and meet her back here. "You not feeling great?" She sits next to me and crosses her legs.

I don't know who she is, but she seems nice enough. "I puked."

She giggles quietly. "Yeah, I can smell that."

Grimacing, I face her. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, her smile warm. "It's fine. We've all been there."

"You don't go to my school," I tell her.

"No. I don't think so." She nudges me lightly. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

"My boyfriend's getting my car. He's gonna come to me and save me. He saves me a lot."

She chuckles at that. "That's a good boyfriend. How long have you been together?"

I don't even find it odd that a stranger is talking to me while the smell of my puke surrounds us. Maybe I'm drunk, or maybe she just seems so genuine that it doesn't matter. "Since sophomore year," I answer.

"Me too!" she perks up. "Well, not your boyfriend obviously, but mine."

I can't help but smile. "Better not be my boyfriend. I'd have to cut you, and I don't want to do that. I like you."

She laughs quietly again. "No, my boyfriend's in college. We do the whole long distance thing."

I raise my knees and rest the side of my head on them, knowing that the girl I'm facing is just talking to keep my mind off puking. And it's nice. She's nice. "That must suck. Cameron and I are... what's that word? Unseperatable?"

"Inseparable?"

I snort. "Yes, that's it! And I want to be a writer."

"Hey," she says, her eyebrows raised. "Not every writer needs to know all the words, they just need to know how to use them."

"That's true."

I hear footsteps start approaching and try to lift my head, but it's too damn heavy. "Lucy?" Logan says, but then sniffs the air.

"I puked," I announce loudly.

He squats in front of me, next to stranger girl. "I know. Cameron called and said to come out and take care of you. Here," he hands me a bottle of water, "have this."

I take it and chug it all down. I burp when I'm done, but he doesn't seem to care. Neither does stranger girl. "Did I interrupt your... you know..." My eyes dart from side to side; making sure that no one can hear me. When I know it's safe, I continue with a whisper, "Sexy times?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No, Luce. And even if you did, you know you’re my number one girl."

"Careful," stranger girl tells him, "If her boyfriend's anything like her, he might cut you."

Logan laughs, louder this time. "Oh, he's tried," he responds. I don't know what he means but I don't ask.

"I'm Logan," he says. He must be talking to stranger girl, because I know his name's Logan. I'm not a dumbshit. I drop my head on my knees again.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan. I'm Amanda." A car pulls up to the curb. "And that's my ride."

I lift my head and wave goodbye.

She gets in, not another word spoken.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

-CAMERON-

She's fallen asleep in the passenger's seat while I replay the night in my head. I never really wanted it to happen like this, the first time we were... I dunno... intimate? I wanted it to be something she'd remember. Something that she'd be excited to call Claudia—her friend in New Jersey—and tell her about. I didn't want it to be in a bathroom at a party while she was buzzed. I don't regret it, though. Not for a second. Which I guess is the reason why I'm wearing a shit-eating grin as I pull into her driveway.

The porch light is on and her dad's sitting at the table—his usual spot when he's working late.

I crack a window and get out of the car, making sure to close the door quietly so I don't wake her.

"Hey Cam," he says, as I climb the steps. His eyes are red, and he looks tired. I notice the half empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. "She passed out?"

"Just fell asleep." My gaze moves from the bottle to him. "Everything okay?"