She sits back down, straddling me on my chair. She tries to kiss my neck and rip my T-shirt off at the same time while still grinding on me. I’m so fucking close, I can’t handle it. I hand her my cap and remove my T-shirt. She puts my cap back on backwards. “Keep this on,” she says huskily.

   We stare at each other for a minute before she starts running her hands over my chest, her delicate hands taking me in. I move my hands up from her waist until my thumbs touch the bottom of her breasts. I rub her nipples through the thin material of her bikini.

   She moans and her head falls backwards, giving me perfect access to her neck. I start kissing it, licking and sucking . . . I move lower and lower until her nipple is in my mouth, and she’s grinding on me, moaning with every movement. I move my hand under the front of her bikini, but she grabs it and opens her eyes. My mind’s so buzzed with lust, I have no idea what’s going on.

   Holding my hand, she whispers, “Lock your door, Jake.”

   I roll us in the chair over to my door and lock it. In a second she’s on her knees in front of me, pulling my dick out of my shorts.

   “Kayla.” I don’t know if I actually say her name, but I know I sure as hell think it. Before her head dips, I stop her. “Are you doing this because I asked you to move in with me?”

   She laughs. “No, Jake. I’m doing this because I want to—I’ve wanted to for so long. Because you turn me on so much, because being around you all the time is driving me fucking crazy. And because I so much more-than-a-lot like you.”

   Then her mouth is on me and around me, and there are fireworks in the room, and my heart’s stopped beating. My toes curl, and my fingers are in her hair, and she’s moaning, and I’m groaning. Then I’m two seconds away from exploding, and I warn her but she won’t stop. The world flashes white, and somewhere in the distance violins play and angels weep, and she’s taking it all until it’s over. I finally look down to see her Bambi eyes watching me—she’s licking her lips and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire goddamn life.

   My mouth is so dry, I can’t speak even if I wanted to. She stands up and walks to my window. Before I realize what’s happening, she’s halfway out.

   “Wait!” I yelp, like I’ve just learned how to speak for the first time.

   “What’s up?” She smiles innocently at me.

   “You can’t just leave,” I say, pulling on my shorts and walking over to her. “I have to reciprocate.”

   “Oh, you will,” she says, winking at me, “but not today.”

   Then she’s out the window, jumping onto the garage roof and climbing into her bedroom.

           MIKAYLA

           Once I’m in my room, I get under the covers and double click my mouse, the whole time thinking of Jake’s face when he let himself go. Jake Andrews is definitely swoon-worthy. I should write a book about him.

THIRTY-TWO

JAKE

           The day after Kayla literally, and legitimately, blew my mind, we visited my house. She fell in love with it instantly—almost as quickly as I fell in love with her.

               She suggested that we use her family’s furniture that’s in storage. Honestly, I can’t care less what’s in there, as long as she is. I tried numerous times to reciprocate, but she wouldn’t let me. I was, however, able to cop a feel every now and then.

           MIKAYLA

       College starts in two weeks, so there’s a bonfire party in a huge field tonight. It’s the last blowout before we all leave for college, and people from about five different schools will be there.

       I was a little wary when we first discussed it, because James and maybe Megan—who I still have not heard from—will more than likely be there. But Jake and his friends assured me that it won’t be a problem, and if it is, they’ll go Chuck Norris on his ass.

           So that’s where I find myself—sitting in a huge field around a bonfire. Whoever set this up is a genius. There’s a dance floor at one end of the field for dancing or groping or whatever, with a DJ keeping that area entertained. Lots of people have parked their cars and trucks and have their own bonfires and music going—including us.

   All of Jake’s friends—who he tells me I should start calling our friends—are here, along with some other guys. That creeper from the batting cages is here, too, still staring me up and down. His name’s Derek. Jake noticed but hasn’t done anything about it—yet.

   “Hey, Micky!” Logan yells from the bed of Dylan’s truck. “I got your jam for you!” There’s an iPod dock in the bed of the truck, and he’s been playing with it most of the night, our own personal DJ. “Hey Mickey” comes blasting through the speakers. Heidi squeals and jumps off Dylan’s lap. She grabs me and Lucy, and we dance with her in the middle of our group. We dance like idiots, because—let’s be honest—we’re about two beers away from being completely wasted. Most of our dance moves consist of that monkey dance from 1956. Good times.

   As the song winds down, Heidi stops dancing and nudges me, cocking her head in the direction of the dance floor. I look up and see James walking toward me, head down and hands in his pockets. By the time he reaches us, the music has stopped and Jake is on the edge of his chair, waiting to make a move.

   “Hey, Micky,” James says shyly, looking at the ground.

   I realize, seeing him like this, why I liked him in the first place. When I met him, he was the shy new kid with a Texan accent and that southern hospitality.

   “Hi, James. How are you?” A small smile appears on my face. I feel like the situation is resolved—like I’ve accepted it for what it is. He hurt me and can’t take it back, but that’s okay, because I’ve moved on. I’m over it—I really am. There’s no point in hating him, because it’s so much harder to hate than to love someone.

   He laughs. “I’ve been better.” He looks up at me, and there’s so much sadness and regret in his eyes that for a second I let my heart break for him—but only for a second.

   “Listen,” he starts to say. He looks around at my friends, who are watching his every move. “Is it all right if we talk somewhere?” I see Jake move from the corner of my eye. “I just think that maybe we should talk and say good-bye—for closure, I guess.” He looks back at the ground.

   I turn to look at Jake. I know I don’t need his permission, but I still want it, out of respect for him and for us. He stares back for a few seconds before nodding almost imperceptibly.