“I am,” I agree.

   It’s quiet for a few moments, then she grabs my face in her hands. She makes sure I’m looking straight at her. “Please, Jake. Don’t do that.”

   I lean into her touch. She’s biting her lip. I glance from her eyes to her mouth and back again. I wet my lips. Her eyes follow my tongue.

   “Do what, Kayla?” I need to know how she feels and what she wants from me—if she wants to be more than this.

MIKAYLA

   His tongue darts out to lick his lips, then his teeth bite his bottom lip. I watch it play out like it’s in slow motion. I have to close my eyes and concentrate on breathing.

   “Kayla?”

   My eyes snap open. “Huh?”

   “Do what, Kayla?” he asks again.

   I think about how to answer, as though it will determine whether I live or die.

   I look at him and see the concern in his face. I love him—like, love him. I want him to know that, but not yet. Because I need him to love me back—all of me.

   “Don’t hurt my heart, Jake,” I say quietly.

   He drops his head for a second then stands up and sits down next to me. He takes me in his arms and kisses my temple. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll never hurt you again, I promise.”

THIRTY-NINE

JAKE

       She’s lying across the sofa, reading a book on her e-reader. I guess Lucy let her keep it. I’m supposed to be watching ESPN, but I can’t take my eyes off her legs. She’s wearing her standard pajamas: tiny boy shorts and matching tank. Her feet are fidgeting, her toes curling and rubbing against each other. Her chest moves up and down from her steady breathing. She’s not wearing a bra, and her nipples are poking through the material. I want so bad to put them in my mouth and taste them.

       She’s holding her book in one hand while the other rests on her stomach, her little finger tucked just under the band of her shorts and her tank top riding up her waist. She begins to move her little finger side to side under her shorts, her legs slowly rubbing together. She makes a low moaning sound.

   I want so bad to be inside her.

MIKAYLA

   I’m supposed to be reading my book, but I can feel Jake watching me. His gaze is locked on my legs and stomach. His eyes burning with lust, he licks his bottom lip then bites it. It’s so fucking hot. I can’t stop looking at his face, just like he can’t stop looking at my body.

   I squeeze my legs tight, thinking about how he makes me feel—how he can make me come like no one has before. A moan escapes me before I can stop it. If I weren’t so afraid of my feelings, I’d tell him to fuck me right now.

   He moves his hands slowly from his lap to the band of his shorts. He reaches into his shorts, grabs his dick, sits up slightly in his chair . . . and adjusts himself. I close my eyes, breathe in and out, count to ten, then excuse myself to bed.

   Once I’m under the covers, I frantically Mikayla myself. It only takes a few seconds before my release, because in my mind they’re my hands wrapped around him, not his, and I’m bringing him to my entrance so I can scream his name over and over.

   As I’m coming down from the haze, I realize my throat is scratchy—I actually was screaming his name.

   A second later, I hear the shower running.

FORTY

MIKAYLA

   “I need a new job, and I definitely need to buy a car,” I huff, closing the front door behind me.

   Logan and Jake are sitting on the sofa, watching ESPN, but turn when they hear my complaining.

   “You look like shit, Micky,” Logan observes.

   Jake punches him hard in the arm.

   “Thanks, asshole.” I glare at Logan. “You would, too, if you had my day.”

   “What happened?” Jake asks on his way to the kitchen. I sit down on the sofa, and Jake sits down next to me, handing me a beer. I take a sip. He pulls my legs up on his lap, takes my boots and socks off, and slowly massages my feet. It feels like heaven. If Logan weren’t sitting right there, I don’t know where this moment would end up.

   “First,” I say, “some smelly sleaze-bucket customer was convinced I was in a porno.” I pause as Logan laughs. “He had the DVD and kept trying to show me the back of it. I couldn’t convince him I’d never been in one, so he kept pushing for me to play it on the screen so he could double-check. He was pushy as hell, and it was so uncomfortable. Luckily, a TA from one of my classes was there, and he asked the asshole to get out. My TA stayed for a bit afterward to make sure he didn’t come back.”

   “What the fuck?” Jake growls. “Why didn’t you call me? Who was that asshole?”

   Logan laughs harder.

   “My phone’s dead—”

   “Your phone’s always dead! Start charging it!” Jake yells.

   I pout, but it’s true—my phone’s always either low on battery or dead. “I don’t know who he was—just some random asshole I haven’t seen before,” I say.

   Jake stares at me for a moment. I stare back until Logan interrupts my thoughts. “And second? You said that was the first . . .”

   “Some creeper on the bus licked my elbow! Legit licked my fucking elbow. He got off at the same stop, and I swear I thought he was going to follow me home. So I ran. Hence I look like shit.”

   Logan’s all-out laughing now. I start to laugh as well.

   Jake looks pissed off. “It’s not funny. Why are you laughing?”

   “Come on, Jake,” I say, nudging him. “If it happened to anyone else, we’d all be laughing.”

   His features relax a bit. “You’re getting a car as soon as possible, Kayla.”

   “Speaking of getting a car, I brought my laundry to my favorite girl in the world.” Logan tries his panty-dropping smile on me.

   I look at him and chuckle. “That has got to be the worst segue since the beginning of time.” I get up and head to the laundry room, so I can get started.

   I hear Jake smack the back of Logan’s head. “You gotta quit doing that shit. She’s not your mom.”

   “I don’t mind!” I yell, halfway down the hall. “It makes me feel needed.”

   Logan laughs then says loud enough so I can hear, “Dude, you should tell her how much your dick needs her.” Logan yelps in pain, then I hear the front door opening. “Just bring my stuff to the party tonight, okay, Micky? You’re coming, right?”

   “Yeah,” I yell. Lie.

   The front door closes, and Jake walks into the laundry room. “So we’re going to the party?” he asks, spinning his cap backwards.