I go for option A, because surely it makes more sense.

   I step out of the bathroom, and she looks up at the sound. She does a double take when she sees me. Her eyes go wide, and her mouth opens a little. Her breath catches, and she starts to blush. I stand there for a few seconds. Internally, I’m fist-pumping the air, celebrating.

   Because I’m a douche bag.

   When she finally looks away, we speak at the same time.

   I say, “I don’t have any—”

   She says, “Top drawer of my dresser—”

   Then we laugh a small, nervous laugh.

   I walk to her dresser and open a drawer. I see the boxers and a plain white T-shirt that I gave her the first night she stayed with me. While I dress—boxers under towel, T-shirt on, towel off—I feel her eyeing me. When I’m done, I look at her, and she looks away too quickly.

   More internal fist-pumping.

   After I’m dressed, I crawl under the covers with her. It’s warm from her body heat, and I’m a little cold—okay, not really, but whatever excuse to be close to her. She’s back to reading her book, facing the other way. I try to get settled. I can see the red still coloring the tips of her ears. I just want to be near her. I come in close to her and spoon her. She tenses then relaxes a little. Once my arms are around her, I hear a small moan escape her. I hope I didn’t imagine it.

   I must fall asleep holding her, because I’m woken up by her turning in my arms. By the time I register what’s happening and open my eyes, she’s looking right at me, inches from my face.

        MIKAYLA

       God, he looks so frickin’ good, it should be illegal.

   He’s got those tired, sleepy eyes, and he’s blinking, trying to focus. When he finally does, his lips turn up at the corners and his voice is scratchy. “Hey, beautiful,” he says. And I swear to God I swoon.

   I move to get out of bed and start getting ready.

   “In a minute—wait.” He tightens his arms around me and nestles in the crook of my neck. I wrap my hands around the back of his head. The position is so intimate—like we’re more than whatever it is we are, more than this. For a second, I close my eyes and imagine that this could be our life.

   But only for a second.

   His breathing changes, and a tiny moan escapes him. He runs his nose up my jaw toward my mouth, and my breath catches. He moves his hand on my waist lower, down to my hips, past my ass, and onto my bare thighs. I’m only wearing boy shorts, and I don’t think he knew because the second his fingers skim my skin, he sucks in a breath, holds it, then lets it out so frickin’ slowly, it warms my neck. His hands tighten on my thigh. He pulls my leg over his so his hardness is touching me, and I can tell how badly he wants me. My eyes close, and his breath shortens. I thrust against him just once so he knows that I want him, too.

   So fucking bad.

   In the next second, his mouth is open and on my neck, and I feel the heat from it creating heat somewhere else. Our joined parts are moving together slowly, intimately, almost imperceptibly. I feel my body tingle with the sensation and throw my head back. He moves his mouth down to my collarbone and the swell of my breasts, and he’s sucking and licking, and, oh God, I want him so fucking bad. I want all of him—right now.

   I moan out loud from the pleasure of him and what he’s doing. “Holy shit, Jake. What are you doing to me?” I breathe, because I can’t control what comes out of my mouth when he does these things to me.

   He tenses in my arms and pulls away—all the way, as in, out-of-the-bed away. I miss him instantly. He stands up to his full height, and his hands go down to his boxers to adjust himself.

   Hot.

   He clears his throat and looks away. “Jesus Christ, Kayla. I’m so sorry. I got carried away.” He starts to walk away. “We should get ready and head out,” he mumbles before leaving my room.

   What the fuck just happened?

           JAKE

           Half an hour later, I’ve showered again—a cold one this time. I hear a knock at my door. I freeze mid-greet—Kayla’s standing on the other side, and the cold shower I just had suddenly seems pointless. She waves then stands with her hands behind her back, waiting for me to say or do something.

   But all I can do is stare.

   She’s wearing a light-blue dress with a wide neckline, so one shoulder and part of her upper arm is exposed. It’s loose fitting, with a drawstring tied around the waist, and stops just past her ass—literally just enough to cover her goods. She’s wearing a little makeup, mainly around her eyes, and she smells like coconuts. It’s crazy sexy, but it’s not meant to be. It’s just Kayla being Kayla.

   She chuckles, which brings me out of my trance. I turn to unplug my phone charging on the nightstand and take the opportunity to adjust myself. Again.

   When we get to the club, my friends are already there. The guys do the bro-hug-and-cheek-kiss greeting, then we settle into the booth they reserved for us.

   While walking through the club, I saw more than a few guys check her out. I couldn’t help but put my arm around her and draw her in, because it’s the Stone Age and I’m a caveman. She didn’t seem to mind, though—not even a little bit.

   An hour later, we’re all buzzed. Logan found some chick to hang off his arm. She’s sitting at our table, cooing at him while he talks to us. It’s kind of weird, but whatever. A Ludacris song comes on, and Heidi makes the girls get up and dance. I watch Logan mouth the words to the song. Apparently, he went through a Ludacris phase in middle school and acted like he was black. I wish I’d been there to see it.

   The song’s pretty dirty—something about people’s fantasies—and the girls start dancing kind of dirty, too. Dylan gets my attention and nods at the dance floor. I get what he’s saying. We get up and walk over there, standing like jealous creepers about five feet away from the girls in case any asshole wants in. Cam stayed at the booth, saying Lucy could hold her own. I’ve seen Lucy drunk a few times. She gets loud and nasty and cusses like a sailor. It’s pretty damn funny, because it’s the complete opposite of who she is.

   The girls are into it. Kayla’s dress moves higher with every move and clings to her perfect ass. I know I’m a dick—but I’m also an eighteen-year-old guy. Dylan notices a guy eyeing Heidi. The guy starts to approach her, but Dylan moves forward just enough to catch his attention, and he backs away. Dylan doesn’t say much, but his presence sure does.

   Three songs later, all of us return to the booth. I rest my arm on the seat behind Kayla. She moves closer to me so our sides are completely touching, and places her hand lightly on my leg.