HIGH SCHOOL ROMANCE

COLLECTION
PENNY WYLDER
 CONTENTS

Boyfriend for the Summer

1. Eric
2. Persephone
3. Persephone
4. Eric
5. Persephone
6. Eric
7. Persephone
8. Eric
9. Persephone
10. Eric
11. Persephone
12. Eric
13. Eric
14. Persephone
15. Persephone
16. Eric
17. Persephone
18. Persephone
19. Eric
20. Persephone
21. Persephone
22. Eric
23. Eric
24. Persephone
25. Persephone
Epilogue
For Her
1. Peter
2. Peter
3. Peter
4. Peter
5. Peter
6. Peter
 7. Amber
8. Amber
9. Amber
10. Peter
11. Peter
12. Peter
13. Amber
14. Peter
15. Peter
16. Amber
17. Amber
18. Amber
19. Peter
20. Peter
21. Amber
22. Amber
23. Peter
24. Amber
For Us
1. Amber
2. Amber
3. Peter
4. Peter
5. Amber
6. Amber
7. Peter
8. Peter
9. Amber
10. Peter
11. Peter
12. Amber
13. Peter
14. Peter
15. Amber
16. Amber
17. Peter
18. Amber
19. Peter
20. Amber
21. Peter
 Epilogue
Prom King
1. Ollie
2. Ollie
3. Adam
4. Ollie
5. Ollie
6. Ollie
7. Ollie
8. Ollie
9. Adam
10. Ollie
11. Adam
12. Ollie
13. Adam
14. Ollie
15. Ollie
16. Adam
17. Ollie
18. Ollie
19. Adam
20. Ollie
21. Adam
22. Ollie
23. Ollie
24. Ollie
Epilogue
Books By Penny Wylder
Copyright © 2020 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no
part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any
form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is
completely coincidental.

Sign up HERE!
 1

ERIC
PRESENT

It is way too fucking hot to be doing this right now.

I know I should be happy that we’re only five miles from
camp, but at the same time I’m furious that the bus couldn’t
have waited five more miles before popping its tire. Then I
wouldn’t have a bus full of hot, cranky teenagers sitting in
the bus above me.
Not that they seem to really care. The chatter of thirty
teen voices floats down from the windows as I struggle to
place the jack properly under the bus. It’s the normal mix of
emotions. Some of the kids are rude for the hell of it because
they want to act like they’re too cool to go to camp. But of
course, as soon as we get there they’ll be as excited as
everyone else—and probably the first ones to jump into the
lake.
Groups of girls are talking about guys back home and
sharing secrets for how to get the best camp tan. I hear a
group of guys in the back talking about the latest football
scores for various leagues, and in spite of the heat, I find
myself being swept back to my own trips on this bus.
Yes, it’s the same dusty green bus. I’m pretty sure that
this bus has delivered campers to Red Rock Camp since it
was founded. Or so the legend goes.
 No one that I went to camp with is around anymore.
They’re all o living more glamorous lives than I am.
Especially while I’m on my knees in the dirt, trying to get my
wrench to properly grip the lug nuts on a bus that’s easily
fifteen years older than I am. And since I’m twenty-three
now, this bus is nearing life as a senior citizen.
But when I was riding it six years ago, it didn’t seem so
bad. The whole two hour drive out of Atlanta was full of fun
and possibility. Bonding with friends and making plans. This
road is full of memories for me, and they’re mostly good
ones.
Mostly.
Hopefully this summer won’t be that bad. Being Director
of the Red Rock Summer Camp was never my goal, but I
think it could be good for me. Get away for a while. From
everything and everyone familiar. Clear my head. And in
spite of everything, they’re good kids. It won’t be that bad.
Fuck, this bus is really stuck. The muscles in my
shoulders scream with the e ort of fighting against the
ancient metal. Normally it would be easy. But after playing a
long—and physical—game of flag football with some of my
childhood friends yesterday, and a workout this morning
designed to numb my mind this morning, my body is sore.
The good kind of sore that reminds me to be grateful for the
body that I have. But still sore.
A curse flies out of my mouth when a soda can hits me in
the head and spills soda across my shirt. Not an intentional
hit—not nearly hard enough for that, and they know there
would be hell to pay if they did that. No, it’s just someone
littering, but it’s just one more thing that adds to my
crummy mood. The liquid sinks into my shirt, and I can
already tell that I’ll end up sticky. That’s what happens when
soda dries in ninety-degree heat.
 All my nostalgia disappears when that soda splashes on
me. I don’t know why I let myself get talked into this. I’m
not a teenager anymore, and even though it hasn’t even been
a decade, the thought of spending the summer with a bunch
of horny teenagers isn’t appealing right now. Especially not
while kneeling under a bus by the side of a road.
Director of Red Rock Summer Camp. What the hell was I
thinking?
Finally, the jack settles into place and I manage to get
enough pressure o the tire to change it. The metal creaks
under the weight of the ancient vehicle, and it crosses my
mind that if I get crushed by the Red Rock bus right now, it
will be the ultimate sign from the universe that I’m not
supposed to be here.
I put the spare tire on. It’s not great, but we only need to
go five more miles. If we pop this one, we’re walking the rest
of the way. A little exercise can only be good for the kids on
the bus, right?
Letting the jack down, the bus leans heavily on the spare,
and I know why they call it a donut. It looks like it’s so full
that it’s about to bust. Please, universe. Just let us get to the
camp.
My shirt is still damp with coke, and my hands are black
with grease. Getting back on the bus, the driver looks at me
and does a double take. Her name is Mabel, and she’s been
driving this bus since I was riding it. She’s the sweetest
Southern woman you’ll ever meet in your life and has
unparalleled sass to match. I can see her lips press together
as she stifles a laugh at the sight of me.
I don’t even want to know what that means.
But after a moment she looks totally innocent. “Get that
tire all sorted?”
I drop into the first seat nearly across from her. “I’m
crossing my fingers it’ll last till we get there.”
 “It will.” She pats the steering wheel. “Bessie won’t let
me down after all this time.”
“How did I never know that you named the bus Bessie?”
Mabel smiles. “It’s something only the privileged know.”
“It’s a little cliché.”
“Yes, it is,” she says, turning the key. “But that’s all
right. We all need a little cliché in our lives sometimes.
There’s a nice predictability to it.”
I’m not sure that I agree, but I don’t have the energy to
argue with her about it right now. “Try to drive gently.”
“I’ll get us to camp. You just relax.”
Small chance in hell of me relaxing. Not when I’m covered
in drying sugar and my senses are waiting to hear the second
telltale pop! of the day. I glance upward in the big mirror that
shows me the entirety of the bus behind me as we slowly pull
back onto the dirt road.
I flex my hands, trying to loosen up the tension in my
arms. Then I massage some of it that’s still hiding in my
neck. Mabel gives me a look from the driver’s seat. “You
going to live over there?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Manhandling a bus wasn’t on my list
of things to do after my workout this morning.”
“You worked out before coming to camp with teens? I’m
sure you know that that’s already a workout.”
I laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Though I don’t plan on
stopping the habit anytime soon. I need to keep fit this
summer. If everything goes to plan, I need to be in the best
shape of my life when I get back to New York.
I glance over my shoulder at our passengers. For the most
part, it doesn’t even look like any of the teens have realized
that we were stopped or that we’re back on the road again.
They’re chatting. But toward the back I see two teens leaning
closer, and possibly kissing. I turn back over the seat. “Hey
guys,” I call back. “Maybe at least wait until you’re not in
front of the camp director to start making out, okay?”
The teens quickly separate, blushing, and there’s
scattered laughter from the rest of the bus. I don’t imagine
that I’ll be able to stop it from happening at the
campground, but the o cial rules of the camp frown on teen
sex. And as the new director, I have to enforce those rules,
even if I’m not looking forward to the awkwardness that
might happen because of it.
Mabel chuckles. “It’s a long summer. You should take it
easy on them.”
“Rules are rules,” I mutter, trying to assess the damage
to my shirt from the can of soda. I’ll have to work on the ‘no
littering’ section of my opening speech tonight at dinner.
“You were like them once,” she says. “Young and in love,
right? There are worse things.”
She’s right, even though I don’t say anything. I was
young and in love once. There are memories that I’ve tried to
push away from this very road and this very camp. A summer
where I chased beautiful red hair through the woods and
jumped after it into the lake. Curled together as the sun set,
imagining nothing but the future with the hope only youth
a ords. Lost in each other, exploring everything, both minds
and bodies.
I’m not that person anymore. That girl is not an option
anymore. We both grew up and went our separate ways, even
if I sometimes wish that we hadn’t. Wishing for things to be
di erent doesn’t change anything.
That’s something I’ve already learned the hard way. Over
and over again. And that’s the end of that story. It’s not
worth falling into again.
Bless Mabel, even though she seems far more confident
than I am in the fate of our spare tire, she does go more
slowly. Probably for my sake. I’m okay with that. But I can
feel every bump more viscerally now. I’m practically holding
my breath as we crawl down the road, and my chest eases
when I see the faded gate.
We roll under the sign that’s never been repainted, and
the volume of the voices inside the bus increases. I’m not
surprised. This is the last batch of campers to arrive. The rest
are already here, with counselors getting them settled. Part
of me wonders if I’m going to have trouble with some of the
people who have been working here forever, but I can’t even
worry about that right now. I with that were my biggest
problem. I need to work on getting a new tire for the bus,
settling into my cabin, and making sure everything is ready
for the opening ceremonies tonight.
The bus grinds to a stop in the open dirt parking lot, and I
breathe a sigh of relief. One problem down. I don’t even try
to stand yet. The teens are pouring o the bus in a wave, and
neither Mabel nor I move for fear of being trampled.
I get it—I’ve felt that excitement and the faster they get
into the open air the faster we can get them where they need
to be. There’s already a group of teen girls near the entrance
to the campground with one of the counselors. The flash of
red hair has me doing a double take, since the memories are
so close to the surface. But that’s ridiculous.
Once all the kids are o the bus, I take my time gathering
my things and getting o , helping Mabel with her bags as
well. As well as driving the bus, she’s been the camp nurse
for as long as I can remember, and I can’t say that I’m not
grateful for that. She’s one person I’m sure won’t judge me
too harshly if I fuck up, and she’s been working with the
camp so long that she’ll know almost everything that there
is to know about this place.
Shouldering my backpack, I head toward the entrance.
I’m going to need a shower and a change of clothes before
anything else happens. I’m sweating and my hands are still
stained black with grease.
A few of the girls in the group see me, and I smile. The
counselor looks back at me, and suddenly I feel like a bucket
of ice water has been dumped on my head despite the
sweltering heat. That double take I did was spot on—like my
subconscious still knows the exact shade of her hair and the
curve of her spine.
It’s Seph. Persephone.
The girl I first had a crush on. The girl I first kissed. She’s
here. She’s here. I don’t know what to do with myself, but I
know that I’ve frozen in my tracks, and that she’s staring at
me.
Her eyes lock on mine, and they’re that exact shade of
sun-kissed green that I remember. So vivid that I dream
about them still. Just a few minutes ago I was pushing away
these memories and now I can’t escape them. They’re
pressing down on me—impossible to ignore.
And those same memories are now flooding my senses. I
can remember the way she tastes and the way she felt
underneath me. The way she sounded when I made her lose
herself. The way her eyes sparkled when she looked at my
body. The way she made me feel like I was a man with a
future for the first time.
Here in the present my body reacts to her. Longing and
desire and lust. All at once. I have to take a deep breath and
chant the reps of my workout routine so that it doesn’t show.
I thought that our story was over, but the way she’s
looking at me, and the pull I feel toward her now…
No matter how complicated, our story isn’t over yet.
 2

PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

I was mid-laugh when it happened. Emily asked me if there

were any dangerous creatures in these woods, and even
though I’m a counselor and I probably shouldn’t laugh, it
struck me as funny.
The woods here are beautiful and wild, but there have
been people here for so long that any dangerous creatures
have long moved on, and the ones that remain are so tame
you have to make sure the deer don’t wander into the cabins.
I was about to tell her no, there are no bears in the woods,
when I spotted the girls’ eyes go wide as they looked behind
me. It’s when I turned to look that I saw him. Eric Elmore.
The boy who was my first love. But clearly no longer a boy.
He hasn’t been a boy for a long time.
What on earth is he doing here? And why does he look
that way? The white t-shirt he’s wearing—tight enough to
show o muscles I don’t remember him having—is smeared
with black and splashes of brown, and his arms are covered
in the same black stu . He even has a smudge of it on one
cheek like one of those black and white calendars with sexy
mechanics who are clearly not mechanics.
But none of that explains why he is here. Staring at me.
 I thought that he was in New York. Last I’d heard
anything about Eric Elmore he’d finally landed his big break
in music with an agent to some of the best artists in the
business. And he was embracing the rockstar lifestyle in The
Big Apple, complete with all the parties and women he could
handle. At least that’s what Leena told me. I tried to pretend
like I wasn’t hanging on every word.
It’s bad form to be too interested in your best friend’s ex.
Especially when you’ve been in love with him for a long
damn time. Not a good idea to let them know that you’ll take
any scrap of news about them just to know if they’re okay.
What is he doing in the back woods of Georgia?
He sees me, and when our eyes meet my stomach drops
like I’m on a rollercoaster. The pull of attraction that I feel
threatens to drown me. Even smeared with grease he looks
like a supermodel. It’s not fair that he’s that hot while dirty.
I’d never be able to pull it o —and the odds are that I’ll be
dirty plenty this summer.
This is the first I’ve seen him in more than a year. Not
even a picture of him until now. Leena declared that Eric had
to be wiped from everyone’s social media when they broke
up. And it wasn’t worth the argument. But I’m drinking in
the sight of him right now like he’s the only water left in a
desert.
And he looks just as shocked as I do. Clearly he wasn’t
expecting me to be here. I wasn’t really meant to be, so that
makes sense.
Eric takes a half-step forward, the way he’s looking at me
—awe and hunger mixed with desire—brings back memories
that I’ve had to actively bury. He looks like he’s about to
come over to say hello, and that can’t happen. I have no idea
what to say to him. What can I possibly say while we’re here?
What’s a good opening line for that?
 Fancy seeing you here, in the place where we took all each
other’s firsts.
“Okay girls,” I say. “Let’s get back to the cabin. Plenty of
unpacking still to do.”
They don’t argue, and I move quickly to lead them away
from the parking lot and back into camp. There’s a brief
shadow of disappointment on Eric’s face, and it’s like a
punch in the gut. But I need more time to figure out what the
hell I’m going to say to him. And frankly, if we’re going to
have any kind of reunion at all, I don’t want it to have an
audience.
“Who was that?” One of the girls—Margot I think—asks.
Emily laughs. “I have no idea but he’s fucking hot.”
I clear my throat. “I’m assuming he’s another counselor.”
It’s plain to anyone with eyes that Eric is hot. Smoking hot.
Center of the sun fucking hot. But I don’t want them getting
any ideas either. The last thing I need—the last thing Eric
needs—is to have teenage girls hitting on him all summer. It
will still probably happen, but at least I can make it clear that
he’s o limits from the beginning.
Sure enough I see a pout form on Margot’s face. But I
ignore it. There’s only one real thought running through my
mind. Why is he here? Why is he here? Why is he here?
What kind of curveball is the universe trying to throw at
me? If Leena knew that he was here, and I was here, she’d
throw a fit. My stomach flips, and I already know that I’m
not going to tell her. There’s a strange sort of relief in that.
I’ve wanted to see Eric forever, and this is one of the only
ways it could have happened that makes sure there’s no
interference. I just need to make sure that he’s okay. That
he’s happy. At least that’s what I’m currently telling myself.
Closure. That’s what I need. Long overdue closure. Sure.
The devil himself wouldn’t believe that lie.
 We all file into the cabin, and I step into my private room
and shut the door, leaning my forehead on the cool wood of
the door. In the sudden silence I can hear the way my heart is
pounding.
This is the last thing that I expected.
Even here in this cabin the memories are pressing in, and
I don’t have a choice but to let them flood my mind. They’re
so visceral it feels like everything happened yesterday even
thought it was six years ago. Every scent and breath feels like
I’m breathing it now. I’ve fought this for so long, it feels
good to remember.
 3

PERSEPHONE
SIX YEARS AGO

I drop my backpack on the bunk harder than I meant to,

jangling everything that is inside. But it does the trick of
taking the edge o the frustration I’m feeling of being here
yet again.
Red Rock Summer Camp is cool. Or was cool. But now that
I’m a junior, everything seems small. Especially in
comparison to Leena’s vacation. She’s going to be sending
me pictures from Paris with the Ei el Tower and sneaking
sips of wine at vineyards, and I’m going to be sweating in
the Georgia heat.
And the worst part is that Leena could care less about
spending time in another country. Her parents take her on
some exotic vacation every year. And I’ve barely left the
state. All I want is to travel and write about it. I want to be
able to paint pictures of gorgeous Italian frescoes and the
way the sunset whines through a glass of white wine on a
stranger’s table.
I unzip my backpack and dig out the notebook I was going
use on that trip. I’m still going to write—I refuse to stop just
because I didn’t get lucky. There are still beautiful things at
Red Rock, and I’m going to practice getting them all down.
Going to make the best of it. What else can I do?
 Five more minutes of moping and then I’ll find the silver
lining. I have to. Nothing but silver and gold linings from
here on out. I grab a pen from my backpack and slip it into
the binding of the notebook. There probably won’t be many
places I go without it while I’m here—except for the lake
where it could get destroyed.
Okay, I think to myself. Time to get out there and stop
wishing you were somewhere else. You’re here now. Look on the
bright side.
I take a deep breath as I step out of the cabin. It’s a
gorgeous day with perfect sun, and unlike some of the days
that can be spent here, it’s not blistering hot. It’s pleasantly
warm, and I close my eyes to bask in it for a moment before
stepping forward to head to my favorite grove in the woods.
It’s a mistake not to open my eyes.
Something slams into me so hard that I see stars through
the brightness, and I don’t even remember moving.
Suddenly I’m on the ground staring up into the sun. A
shadow looms out of the sun, and I blink. Somehow I can’t
still breathe. What the fuck happened?
The shadow solidifies into a face, and now I can’t breathe
for a di erent reason. It’s a boy I’ve never seen before…and
he’s gorgeous. Haloed by golden light, his hair looks that
much darker, and his eyes are so blue they match that
perfect clear sky that I had seen just before whatever
happened…happened.
His mouth is moving, but I can’t seem to focus on what
he’s saying. My ears are ringing and I blink once. Twice. The
shapes of his words are coming though now.
“What?”
My own voice sounds mu ed, and then clears and I hear
his voice. It’s strong and musical. “Your nose is bleeding.”
His hands are on my shoulders, helping me to sit up, and
I realize that he’s right. Liquid pours down my face and I
look down in horror and the blood that’s collecting on my
new camp shirt. “I am so sorry,” the boy says. “Are you
okay? Can I take you to the nurse?”
I stand in a daze. Around us other campers have stopped
to look, mostly just watching me bleed. A few others are
laughing at either him or me. I’m not sure what to do or
what happened. I’m still in a daze.
“Here,” he says, fingers grazing my arm, “let’s go to the
nurse.”
We take all of one step together when another voice
descends, loud and brassy. “What happened?”
“It was an accident—” he says.
Hands clamp down on my shoulders. “We’ll figure it out
later, she needs to get to the nurse now.”
“That’s where I was taking—wait!”
I twist to look back at him—the handsome boy with the
blue eyes, but I’m already too far away to hear what he’s
saying. The counselor is marching me across the camp at a
pace I can barely keep up with. My ears are still ringing, and
the blood on my face feels thick.
Now that I’m coming out of it my nose is starting to hurt.
I don’t think it’s broken, but I guess I wouldn’t really know,
having never broken a nose before.
I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve only had to be in the
nurse’s cabin a couple times in the years that I’ve been
coming to Red Rock. It’s a small cabin on the edge, and an
older woman has been the nurse for as long as I’ve been
coming here.
“Mabel,” the counselor says, guiding me through the
door. “We’ve got a live one.”
The nurse turns with a smile, and she doesn’t look
remotely concerned when she sees me standing there
covered in blood. “Thank you, Jennifer. I’ll take it from
here.”
 “Thanks.” There’s a clatter of the screen door behind me
and she’s gone. Must have something else she needed to do.
“Looks like you got hit pretty hard,” Mabel says, patting
the cot with one hand. “Come sit down and we’ll get you
cleaned up.”
I sit, feeling a little clearer. I’ll probably have some
bruises from the fall, but I don’t think I’ve got anything
worse than a scratch on the rest of my body.
“What happened?” she asks, wetting a cotton pad with
something that stings and gently cleaning the blood from my
face.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I stepped out of my cabin and
then I was on the ground. I think someone ran into me by
accident.”
She sighs, but she’s smiling. “Probably one of the boys.
We keep telling them to slow down or somebody will get
hurt. Maybe this will make them take it seriously.”
“Maybe…Maybe not.” I think about the boy with the blue
eyes. He did seem really concerned.
Mabel finishes cleaning the blood from my face and
touches my nose softly. I wince, but it’s not the worst pain
that I’ve ever felt. “Hmm,” she says, “bear with me.”
She runs her fingers along the bridge, pressing at
intervals and watching my reaction. “I don’t think it’s
broken. You’ll have some swelling and bruising, but you
should be fine in a couple of days. I can give you a bandage if
you like.”
Of course this would happen. On the first day of camp I
end up being the girl with the giant bandage on her nose. I
could be in Paris right now.
Stop. I halt the thoughts before they can go further.
There’s no point in wishing for what might have been.
Absolutely no point. “If you think I need it,” I say, but I
don’t manage to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
 “I think you’ll be okay with just icing it for a couple of
days.”
It’s a gift she’s o ering, like a little drop of sunshine.
“Really?”
Mabel nods. “If it were broken, I’d insist on the bandage.
But ice it today and tonight and come back and see me
tomorrow. We’ll make sure it’s not anything more serious.”
“Okay.”
She crosses to one of the shelves and pulls another camp
shirt o the shelf. “Here. Change into this and I’ll wash that
one for you. I’ll give it back to you when you visit
tomorrow.”
I step behind a screen in the corner and pull o my shirt
and slip into the new one. “Thanks.”
“It’s no trouble, dear. Is the one who knocked you down
all right?”
Shaking my head, I hand her the shirt. “I don’t know. If I
see him again, I’ll ask.”
She smiles. “Tell him to come see me regardless. Can’t be
too careful.”
“I will.”
Mabel crosses the cabin to the refrigerator and opens the
top door to the freezer and hands me a small ice pack. “As
much as possible. But don’t freeze your nose o .”
As I step out of the cabin back into the sun, I see him. The
boy in question. He’s a little ways down the path, waiting,
and he looks nervous. Now that I’m more clear, I’m
frustrated. Even when you’re running, how hard is it to not
run into someone? You have to be really not paying
attention.
I don’t really want to talk to him—no matter how
attractive he is—but I know that it’s going to happen at
some point. Might as well get it over with now. I press the ice
pack to my nose. It stings.
 He spies me coming down the path and straightens up,
looking me up and down like he expects to find a cast on my
arms or something.
“She wants to see you,” I say. “To make sure you’re
okay.”
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about you. Are you all right?”
He winces. “Is it broken.”
I could tell him yes and make him feel worse, but he
already looks miserable. “No, it’s not broken. Just icing for a
couple of days.”
The relief on his face is plain. “I’m glad.” Then he holds
out my notebook and pen. I had forgotten I had them—must
have dropped them when he knocked me over. Sitting on top
of it is a red Starburst.
I take the notebook, and the candy. “Where were you
going?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you knocked me over, where were you going?”
What I’m trying to ask him: what was so important that you
were so absorbed in running that you weren’t looking in
front of you?
His cheeks blush, and in spite of myself, I notice that it’s
cute. He’s cute. More than that. He might be the most
attractive guy I’ve ever spoken to in real life, and I wish that
I wasn’t mad at him.
“Yeah…” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
knock you down like that. I was mainly just trying to get you
out of the way.”
I shake my head, which presses my nose too hard into the
ice and I suck in a breath. “What are you talking about?”
He runs his hand through his hair and it leaves it just
disheveled enough that I wonder what it would be like to put
my own fingers through it. “A few of us were throwing a
baseball around near that cabin, and you came out right as
one of us missed the throw. It was going to hit you, and I
didn’t want that, so I ran at you.
“My plan was just to move you out of the way, but I was
too fast. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Oh. Oh. Well, my eyes had been closed. I would have no
idea if a baseball was hurtling towards me. And it’s entirely
possible that that would have caused more damage than a
bloody nose. “Well thank you for that.”
I unwrap the candy he put on my notebook, a tiny
acceptance of his peace o ering. We stand across from each
other, awkward silence hanging between us. “It could have
been a lot worse,” I say.
“I’m glad it wasn’t.”
“Me too.”
He slips his hands into his pockets and looks at me, and
again I’m struck by how blue his eyes are. How striking the
color is against his dark hair. “What’s your name?”
“Persephone,” I tell him. “My friends call me Seph.”
One corner of his mouth pulls up into a smile. “Well,
hello, Seph,” he says, boldly declaring himself my friend.
“My name is Eric.”
I don’t know what possesses me to smile, but I do.
 4

ERIC
PRESENT

Seph is here. It’s the three words that have been rattling
around in my brain for the last day. All the way through
settling into my cabin and through last night’s orientation. I
could see her across the room, her presence something I
couldn’t ignore.
All through the evening when I could barely sleep,
thinking about the fact that she’s here. And I woke up
thinking about it too. My eyes popped open before the sun
with those words on my mind.
It all seems so perfect. I wasn’t supposed to be here, and
yet I am. And now that she’s here too, it’s like fate is giving
us a do-over. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.
It’s entirely possible that there’s too much between us
now for the stars to align in a way that gives us a second a
chance. But we have the summer, and I’ll be damned if I’m
not going to take this chance. No matter how much I’ve
pushed away the reality of this, I’ve wanted it.
When you think something isn’t possible, it’s easy to tell
yourself that you don’t want it or need it.
I knew Seph before I knew Leena, but even though Leena
and I split up a while ago, I haven’t had any contact with
Seph. Though she hasn’t expressed the vitriol toward me
that some of Leena’s other friends have. That alone gives me
hope.
Thinking about Seph gives me more energy than I have
any right to this early in the morning, and I need to do
something with it or I’m going to be antsy all day. I don’t
have time for a run, so I have to make do.
I start with the pushups, not bothering to count. I just go
until my arms start to burn. The same with sit-ups. I
brought a medicine ball with me in my bag and I use that for
extensions, starting to work up a sweat. The clock tells me I
have five more minutes, so I break out the jumping rope and
push myself until my lungs are on fire.
I let myself take a breath, thankful that I took the edge
o . If I have to do more later I will, though thoughts of Seph
still have me wishing that there was another way that I was
burning o energy.
The co ee maker beeps, and I pour myself a cup. First
real day on the job, and there’s going to be a lot to do. I sit
down at the desk in my cabin and flip open the schedule for
today in the binder that’s going to be my bible for the
summer. As much as I want to think about Seph at all times
—and will have a hard time stopping myself from doing just
that—I still have a job to do.
And part of that job is knowing the schedule of activities
for the day so I can oversee them. Thankfully I won’t have to
directly run too many of them, but I need to know exactly
what’s happening so I can make sure the sta are properly in
place and the equipment is ready.
My cell phone rings where it’s still plugged in next to the
bed. Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. It’s early enough
that anyone calling me might have an emergency. But my
pulse smooths out when I see my dad’s name on the screen.
“I could have been sleeping,” I say by way of hello.
 His voice is gravelly, and the chuckle grates across the
line. “But you’re not.”
“No. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Excited for your first full day?” he asks.
I take a breath, pushing back a new thought about Seph.
Probably not the best time to mention that. “Something like
that.”
There’s a heavy silence before my dad speaks again. “I
just wanted to check in with you before you started.”
“Everything is fine.” I flip the book shut. “I promise. I’ve
got it covered.”
“I’m sorry that I had to ask you to do this. I know it’s not
what you wanted—”
I cut him o . “We’ve been through this, Dad. It’s fine.
Don’t apologize to me. It’s not exactly something to feel
guilty about. And besides, I’m finding myself optimistic
about the summer.”
“Oh?” He coughs for a second, but I can tell he’s curious.
“Why? What changed?”
I wasn’t exactly shy with the fact that I didn’t love the
idea of being here. “I’ll keep you posted.”
He laughs again. “Fair enough. But if you need me, you
know that I’m just a phone call away.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I need to do the
rounds.”
“Get on that,” he laughs.
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I didn’t lie. I need to
walk the campground and make sure all the equipment is
where it’s meant to be. And I think it will be good to be up
and about before the rest of the camp. The rare moments of
silence in the couple of months that are bound to be filled
with noise.
The sun is peeking over the horizon. Even though the
trees and mountains are obscuring it, the early morning sky
is painted with streaks of pink light. It’s peaceful, and
already warm. Mist floats across the surface of the lake. It’s
perfectly smooth, the only ripples coming from a pair of
ducks making their way across.
If it’s this warm already, it’s going to be boiling by mid-
morning. An even better reason to get the rounds done early.
As I’m rounding the lake to head over to the tennis and
dodgeball courts, I’m stopped by a vision.
Or at least what my head is telling me is a vision, because
it’s exactly what it would have come up with. Seph is on the
shore of the lake, lit up with a beam of sunrise like a dream.
The sun sets her hair on fire, and her skin is glowing like
she’s a saint in a Renaissance painting. And as if that wasn’t
enough to make my body react to her, she’s doing yoga.
A group of her campers are there with her, following
along on yoga mats, but I only have eyes for her. She’s
wearing a thin t-shirt and the shortest little shorts I’ve ever
seen that show o lean legs and an ass that I’m pretty sure I
dreamed about last night. Fucking hell.
Let’s not even start on the fact that she was able to get a
group of teenagers up before the sun to exercise. This
woman is amazing, and I can’t stop staring at her. I release
an invisible plea to the universe that I can find a way to reach
her again. That everything that I’ve done and that she’s done
and that life has thrown at us won’t keep us apart. Because I
feel in my gut that I’ve been waiting for this for too damn
long.
My feet carry me forward toward their group without a
conscious choice, and I can’t take my eyes o Seph as she
leans into the stretch. It’s not a dirty position, but oh it gives
me dirty thoughts, and I have to chant numbers in my head
in order to keep my body under control. That’s the last thing
I need in front of campers on the first real day.
 One of them sees me, and laughs, which draws other eyes.
I smile back, friendly, but I still only have eyes for Seph, who
hasn’t noticed that I’m here. But she has noticed the
laughter. “I know it’s early, but I promise we’re almost
done.”
“I didn’t see sunrise yoga on the list of activities for the
day.”
She startles, nearly losing her balance, but recovers and
stands. I don’t miss the blush staining her cheeks. “It’s just
my cabin,” she says quickly. “I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay,” I say. “I’m amazed you got them
out of bed.” I make sure to say that last with a smile. I don’t
want them to be o ended, but I barely want to be up at this
hour.
A couple of the girls are whispering, and one I remember
from yesterday—Emily, I think—takes a step forward. “Will
you be out here every morning? That might make getting up
easier.”
There’s more laughter and nodding agreement, and Seph
scrubs a hand across her face.
I clear my throat. “The rounds will be di erent every day.
No guarantees.”
“Too bad,” another girl whispers, followed by giggles.
Okay, going to have to ignore that. I refocus my eyes on
Seph. “I’m happy to add this to the schedule if you need
anything set up for it.”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”
There’s nothing rude about the way she speaks, but her
eyes slide past me and she seems…distant. It could be
because I interrupted, but I think that it’s more than that.
“Let me know. I’d be happy to help.”
She smiles, but it’s flat. Almost plastic. “Thanks. I’ll keep
that in mind.”
 “Maybe you could lead a class for some of the guys,”
Emily says. “That is, if you’re flexible enough to do this.”
“Come on Seph, teach him something and see if he’s good
enough.” It’s another girl this time.
“I’m sure that Eric has better things to do with his time,”
Seph says, pressing her lips together.
“I don’t know,” Emily says. “Being a camp director has to
be di cult. Maybe we should know how fit he actually is to
do this job?”
Seph closes her eyes and I see exasperation there. I make
a mental note to keep an eye on Emily, because she’s one of
those kids that could excel here, or spiral into trouble. “I’ve
done yoga before,” I say. “Though I’m not very good. And I
already worked out this morning.”
Seph looks at me when I say that, and I follow her eyes
down my body and back. She blushes again and I barely
contain the grin that causes.
“We’ve only got a little bit of the flow left,” a girl in the
back says. “You should finish with us, and Seph can help
you.”
I tick an eyebrow upwards, asking the question of her.
Does she want me to stay or go? It’s her call. These are her
campers, and she has to deal with them the way she’s
established. I can’t crush her authority. I also want to make
sure that none of these girls think I would ever trample over
another counselor’s wishes—especially a female counselor.
I’m not going to do yoga every day with a group of teen
girls. There’s no way that’s appropriate. But if I do a few
poses, I don’t see the harm. But it’s up to Seph.
She pastes on a bright smile that I know isn’t fully real.
“Sure. We just have one more sun salutation left. Everyone
back into downward dog. You too,” she says.
When I do yoga I’m not normally in jeans, but I’ll make
do. I slip o my shoes as I step onto the yoga mat that she’s
vacated, and suddenly I can’t breathe because I’m the closest
that I’ve been to her in years and all I want is to reach out
and touch her.
I resist.
Stretching out, I get into downward dog. I didn’t lie, I
have done yoga before, and I’ve never considered myself
particularly good at it. I prefer to run and lift weights—
pretty typical for a guy my age. But if I pretend I’m worse
than I am for a little help from Seph, I don’t think the
universe will hold it against me.
The back of my calves ache with the stretch. I haven’t
done this is far too long, and it feels good after my
desperation to burn energy this morning. “Sink into this
one,” Seph says, “since it’s almost the end.”
Her hands brush my lower back, pressing lightly. “Ease
back,” she says quietly. “Try to let your heels touch the
ground.”
I try to do what she’s asking but all I can think about is
the fact that her hands are on me. “Once you’re settled, raise
your right leg behind you o the ground and hold for a
breath before stepping up into a lunge.”
This feels familiar, and I follow the steps, stretching into
the lunge and rising up. Seph’s hands follow, moving to my
shoulders and gently pulling back, helping me stretch into it.
Looking over, I meet her eyes. For the first time this
morning she’s looking at me straight on, and there’s
suddenly no air left to breathe. Her mouth is moving but I’m
not hearing the words that she’s saying, completely relying
on her gentle touches to guide me through the motions.
The touches are clinical. Nothing out of bounds or giving
anything away, but to me they burn with yearning heat. And
I’m close enough to Seph that I can see her breath is a little
shorter than it should be too.
 I lean back down into the reverse triangle pose, and Seph
comes with me, our faces close. So close that I can feel her
breath. I can’t take my eyes o her lips. There’s so much I
want to say to her. Ask her. But I can’t do that while we have
an audience.
Back into downward dog I go, and she moves to steady
me. This time her hands are heavier. Pressing more fully, the
tips of her fingers digging into my lower back just a little. I
want more of that. I want her fingers digging into my back
while she’s moaning underneath me.
I shut that thought down. I can’t have it right now, and
Seph seems to have the same thought. She steps away from
me so suddenly that her sudden absence makes me almost
dizzy, and I fall out of the pose to laughter around me.
“I did say that I wasn’t very good at it.”
“Come on girls,” Seph says, with a warmer smile for me
this time. “Put the mats away. It’s time for breakfast.”
It takes all the self-control that I have in the world not to
reach out and pull her back for a moment, just to talk. And
maybe more. But she goes with her campers, and I’m left
staring at her walk away, with her ass in those shorts burned
into my memory.
I need to find a way to talk to her. Crack that shell that’s
grown around her. Because I know that my Seph is still in
there. I know it. That girl who stole my heart six years ago is
in there. I can see her just beneath the surface, and I need to
tell her that she’s still mine.
 5

PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

Fucking hell, I need to get it together.

I wasn’t thinking that I was going to see Eric this
morning, let alone touch him, and now my brain is all out of
sorts. How in the hell am I supposed to do this for two
months?
He doesn’t seem to be getting the hint that we shouldn’t
talk. There’s a reason that Leena wanted us to cut him out,
and if she finds out…
The little voice in my head that says but Leena isn’t here,
and they’re not together anymore, is getting louder. But I’m
not that person. I don’t betray my friends.
I’ve had the argument with myself a bunch of times. That
talking to him wouldn’t be the kind of betrayal that it feels
like it is—especially since I knew him first. But I’m not sure
how to sort out my feelings about it.
I’m not used to the idea of him even being in such close
proximity. And the yoga. Holy shit. First, I’m thinking of
killing Emily and the other girls in my cabin. Not seriously,
but all they see when they look at Eric is a super-hot older
guy. They don’t see our history together and how
complicated it is.
 They probably could see the tension running between us
this morning, even though I did my best to keep it simple
and professional. But being close to Eric is like breathing
fresh air. It’s invigorating, and even just having my hands on
his body has me craving more.
It’s not possible. I know it’s not, but I still want it
anyway.
The eggs that are sitting in front of me are no longer
appealing. They seem like too much and too heavy. Maybe
just a piece of fruit or something. I have a little more than an
hour before I have to oversee archery, and even though I just
did my full yoga routine, I’m too full of energy. I need to
burn of the restlessness from this morning’s encounter. And
a swim sounds nice.
I can feel eyes on me from across the dining hall—the
same eyes that have been on me since he walked in ten
minutes ago. Eric is doing his best to hide it, and so am I, but
we’ve been stealing glances at each other, and anyone who’s
paying attention would probably see it.
Yeah. Definitely not going to eat eggs right now. I sneak
one more glance over at Eric and blush when I find his eyes
fixed on mine. If he was just looking at me, maybe that
would be di erent. But it’s the way he’s looking at me that’s
the thing. His gaze is full of a hunger that I’m afraid to want,
but still do. It’s dangerous. It could consume us both and I
know that I’m going to have be the one that keeps us both
from burning. I can do that.
I scrape my half-eaten eggs into one of the compost bins
and hand over the dishes to the kitchen sta . I spot a bunch
of apples in a basket. That sounds fine to my stomach right
now. Sure. I can eat a bigger lunch if I’m hungry.
Reaching out, I grab an apple, only realizing after I’ve
grabbed it that it was holding up a bunch of the other apples,
and they tumble onto the floor with a rumbling sound. The
entire room goes quiet for a moment as people look and my
whole face and chest flushes red.
I don’t look at Eric. I can’t look at him. Not now.
The sound resumes and the campers and counselors go
back to their breakfast, too sleepy or too engrossed in their
food to laugh or make a big deal out of it.
I pile the apples back into the basket as quickly as I can
before fleeing the dining hall. Escape is the only option. On
the way out I grab one of the quick pre-made protein shakes
from the counselor’s fridge. Even the apple doesn’t sound
appetizing right now.
God, I need to be in the water.
It’s barely been an hour since we finished yoga and the
temperature is already spiking. I have enough time, if I
hurry. It takes me only a few minutes to throw on my
bathing suit and camp clothes over it before heading back
out. That’s one of the nice things about swimming in the
lake—you don’t have to shower chlorinated water out of
your hair.
The bathing suit I’m wearing isn’t one that I would put on
if I were going to the beach with my friends. It’s a little more
modest. But I still feel good in it. I dump my clothes in a pile
on the dock before diving into the calm water.
I remember when I first came to Red Rock Camp, I was
terrified of swimming in the lake. The dark water freaked me
out and I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the things that
could be swimming beneath the surface. But over time I
came around. Eric is one of the people that helped me get
over that fear, and now I don’t even hesitate when I dive in
headfirst.
The water is still cold enough to steal my breath, holding
on to the barely-there chill of the morning, and a perfect
antidote to the rising heat. And it gives me something to
focus on besides Eric’s perfect face and body. The feeling of
his muscles on my hands, or the brush of his breath when
our faces were close together.
Being that close…it makes me remember more and more,
and I’m only human. The closer I get to him, the harder it is
to push away those memories. But I have to. It’s the only
way.
I push myself harder toward the center of the lake. There
should be time for me to make it to the island in the center
of the lake and back to the dock a couple of times before I
have to get to archery.
Shoving everything out of my mind, I focus on the feel of
the water on my skin. On the sound of my heartbeat in my
ears. On the rhythm of my breath. On pushing harder and
faster.
My muscles burn and it feels good. I touch the shore of
the island and flip back, still increasing my speed. When
camp is over, I need to swim more at home. I’ve forgotten
how good it feels to be like this—free. There are few things
in the world that make me feel as powerful as slicing
through the water. It seems like there’s nothing in the world
that can stop me, and that all the problems in the world fall
away.
I reach the dock and turn back. One more circuit. I can
make it. I haven’t been in the water this long or forced
myself this hard in a while, but it’s okay. I don’t care if I’m
sore tomorrow. I’ll have the yoga to stretch it out. Though
now that I’ve seen Eric stretching, doing the flow better than
he gave himself credit for, all I’m going to be thinking about
is him while I do it.
No.
I shove through the water and force myself back toward
the dock. No thinking about him. This time is for me. There’s
a little pain in my leg and side now, and I may have pushed
too hard for the first day. But it’s fine.
 Until it’s not fine.
A muscle in my ribs seizes and pulls up spreading pain
across my stomach and down into my leg. It’s a cramp.
Raising my head, I look at the dock, and I’m too far away for
this to be easy. Fuck.
I slow down, trying to use the good side of my body, but
the pain flares into full blow agony and my limbs don’t seem
to be responding the way I need them to. Is this really
happening? Is this how fast drowning accidents happen?
I’m stronger than this. But fuck it hurts. And I’m farther
away than I thought. I’m imagining the headline that
announces a counsellor’s drowning death at Red Rock
Summer Camp with more calm than I thought I would. When
faced with death I thought I might freak out a little.
But I can’t focus on anything but swimming. I push with
the one arm and the one leg that can function properly. How
did this happen? Why am I cramping? The whole thing about
eating before swimming is a myth. This shouldn’t have
happened. Maybe I pushed myself too hard?
Come on, Persephone. You can do this.
I falter for a second, my head momentarily slips below the
water, and that’s when the panic hits. No. Panic isn’t going
to help right now. But I can’t stop the way my heart rate
skyrockets and the way I gasp for breath.
Do I scream?
I hear something in the water and all those fears I
overcame come rushing back in. There’s something in the
water and it’s going to take me down with it. No. Not like
this.
A body slams into mine, and an arm around my chest and
then a voice. “I’ve got you.”
I would know that voice anywhere, and my body relaxes
at the same time that my mind panics more. Eric’s arm is
around me, and he’s swimming me to shore. I can’t seem to
get a handle on the mixture of relief and terror that I have
going on right now, but I’m not going to die, and right now
that’s a good start.
Though now the embarrassment might kill me.
He slices through the water with me against his chest,
and I can feel that he’s still in his clothes. His jeans brush
against my legs as he kicks. And then he’s depositing us both
on the sand of the shore, our feet still in the shallow water.
Eric is breathing hard and so am I, and I let my body
release, trying to recover from the cramp. His arm is slung
across my stomach where he collapsed with us, and I should
move it. But God, I don’t want to. I like the feeling of
breathing up into that weight.
“What happened?” he rasps, voice closer than I expected
it to be.
I manage to gasp out. “Cramp. I have no idea why.”
“Fuck, Seph.”
My heart grates at that name. At the familiarity it claims
after so long. Anger wells up in my chest, and I know that he
just saved my life but I’m suddenly livid and I can’t be here.
Everything still hurts, but I can move. Sitting up, I shove his
arm o me and try to stand. I don’t make it on the first try.
“Thank you for jumping in after me.”
“I’d always jump in after you. You know that.” He laughs
then. “Guess tackling you in the water does less damage
than on land.”
I don’t answer, finally making it to my feet. I push away
relieving the memory I went through last night. It’s already
too clear in my mind. Suddenly I’m very aware of the fact
that I’m soaking wet in a bathing suit in front of him, even if
the suit is more modest than what I’d normally wear.
“Are you all right,” he asks as I turn toward the dock to
grab my clothes.
 “I’m fine,” I snap, glancing back at him. Fuck, I wish I
hadn’t. He’s soaked from head to toe, hair disheveled with
water, and leaning on his elbow like he’s a sailor washed up
on the beach. With that hair and those eyes he looks a little
like Prince Eric, and it works for him.
Desire pulses deep in my gut, and I have to control my
breath not to gasp at the image in front of me, even with his
face painted with hurt.
“Why are you doing this, Seph?”
I swallow. “Doing what?”
“Being cold.”
“I’m not.”
He stands and steps closer. “You are, and I want to know
why. What did I do wrong? We used to be close, Seph.”
“It’s Persephone,” I say, drawing a line in the sand. “And
you didn’t do anything wrong. That was just a long time
ago.”
“We have time now,” he says. “I’d like to get to know you
again. And I’d like for you to tell me the truth.”
“I am,” I lie, turning away. He doesn’t say anything else,
and he doesn’t follow me.
The truth is something that I can’t tell him, because it
still hurts too much, and it will always hurt too much.
Eric Elmore’s mistake was that he made me love him,
before I knew that he could never be mine.
 6

ERIC
SIX YEARS AGO

Swimming is always the best part of the summer. I swear

that I spend half my time in the water whenever I’m at
camp, but I’m not complaining. It’s only been a few days and
it feels more natural to be in the water than anything else. I
love the sun on my skin and the way the girls look at me
when I’m in the water. It’s an intoxicating feeling, though
it’s been a little di erent the last few days. There’s only one
set of eyes I want on my body, and I can’t them out of my
head.
So far things have been going well for camp, except for
when Mom and Dad show up and try to get me to be ‘more
involved.’ When we left to come to the camp, we agreed that
they were going to treat me like every other camper, and that
they wouldn’t tell anyone that we own Red Rock. I don’t
want special treatment, and I don’t want anyone else
bugging me to get favors because my parents are the camp
directors.
Seems like they’ve forgotten it a little bit when they try to
get me to step up and lead stu , but today they’ve stayed
away, and I’ve been having a good time. Michael crashes o
my shoulders as Krista and Trevor knock us over in the
shallows.
 Michael comes up laughing. “I’m done.”
“Come on,” I say. “We need a rematch.”
Chicken is almost a sacred tradition at Red Rock, and any
time the lake is open for swimming someone is playing. And
I’ve been getting crushed today.
“No, man. I’m tired. I’ll be your wingman tomorrow,” he
says clapping me on the shoulder and heading for his towel.
I point at Krista and Trevor. “I will find someone. Stay
there.”
“No problem,” Krista says. “We’ll beat their ass too.”
I roll my eyes but I’m smiling. “Speaking of wingman,”
Michael says, he nods towards the shore.
“What?”
He rolls his eyes. “We’re not idiots, Eric.”
I look in the direction that he nodded, and I see her.
Seph.
The green eyes that I can’t get out of my head.
I’ve seen her everywhere since I tackled her that first day,
and I still feel bad about it. The bruising on her face is almost
entirely gone. But it’s more than guilt that’s kept me looking
at her whenever she appears.
She’s beautiful.
In a way that I’m not used to. She just…is. I’ve never
known someone with that color hair. A perfect, vibrant red
that lights up like fire when the sun hits it. She’s got this
perfect pale skin, and when I knocked her down I got to see
her eyes—a gorgeous green that reminds me of the leaves of
these woods at sunset.
Michael laughs at my staring and heads out of the water.
But not before I can flip him o .
I’ve never had a crush this hard this fast before, but I
want to get to know her. Something in my gut is pulling me
toward her, and I want to follow it. Now is the perfect
chance. Right now, she’s under a tree on her towel,
scribbling in that notebook that she brings everywhere—I’ve
literally never seen her anywhere without it. But she’s
wearing a bathing suit too. A green bikini that hugs her body
in a way that makes me really glad I’m in the icy water of the
lake.
“Seph!” I call, and she glances up, confused for a
moment, trying to figure out who’s calling her name, and I
wave. She gives me a tentative smile. That same one that
she’s given me whenever I’ve said hello. “I need a new
partner. You game?”
“I’m not sure you would want me,” she says. “I’ve never
won a game of chicken.”
“There’s always a first time.” And if I were being honest,
I gave up caring about winning the moment I realized that
she was here. That she would ever ask the question why
anyone would want her makes me want to prove in a very
public way that everyone should want her.
She presses her lips together a moment before speaking.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
She puts her notebook on the towel and comes into the
water with us, wincing for a second at the cold. It’s milder
today and the sun hasn’t burned o as much of the chill.
“This is Krista and Trevor,” I say, not sure if she’s met
them. I haven’t seen her hang out with many people here.
“Hi.”
I lower myself into the water and she climbs onto my
shoulders. Holy shit, I didn’t anticipate what it would feel
like to have her so close to me, and the fact that my hands
would be on her thighs to stabilize her. I need to get my
brain under control. I clear my throat. “Okay. Ready?”
“Ready.” She doesn’t sound like it, but that’s okay.
Trevor and I step closer to each other, and the game is on. I
tighten my hands on Seph’s legs and brace against the
lakebed, trying to keep her steady. She gives it her best shot,
and she does manage to knock them o balance for a
moment, but the pair across from us have been together
forever and have been playing chicken here just as long.
There’s no beating them, and only a few minutes later Seph
reels back, and I follow her into the water.
Kristin cheers with victory and I laugh. Seph surfaces but
doesn’t stand. She’s smiling even though her chin is still in
the water. “Are you okay?”
That blush that I’ve learned to look for creeps up her
cheeks. “My top came o . I’m trying not to flash anyone.”
Before I can stop them, my eyes fly to what little is visible
of her shoulders in the murky water, and her straps are gone.
I rip my eyes back to hers as quickly as they dropped. “Stand
behind me.”
I turn and block her from both Kristin and Trevor and the
people lounging behind me. She steps close enough that I
can feel her moving, and I’m actively trying not to imagine
her naked. And pretty much failing. My imagination is
spinning into what might happen if we were alone. Would
she let me turn and kiss her? Feel her skin without the fabric
in the way? My dick wants that. Stop it, Eric.
Her hand brushes my shoulder. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” I follow her back onto the beach to her
towel, grabbing my own in the process, and I sit with her.
Close enough to be able to talk but not so close that she
would feel uncomfortable. “Is this your first year here?”
“Second,” she says, grabbing her towel o the blanket
she’s spread out and wrapping it around her shoulders. “But
first without my best friend. Probably why you don’t
remember me if you were here last year.”
“Yeah, I was.”
“We were pretty much doing anything and everything
together. It’s weird to be here without her.”
 I run a hand through my hair, using the water already in
it to keep it out of my eyes. “Where is she this year?”
She almost rolls her eyes but catches herself.
“Vacationing in France with her family. Being glamorous.
It’s hard not to be jealous, but I’m trying. I really want to
travel. But,” she says, pausing, “Leena really is amazing,
and she deserves it. She’ll come back from her trip and I
know all the stories will be great.”
“I’m sorry you miss her.”
Seph shrugs. “Not much I can do about it, but when you
spend that much time with someone it’s hard not to feel like
you’ve lost a limb when they’re not there. But it’s fine,
because senior year is going to be fantastic. We’re going to
make it amazing together. Her and me against the world, you
know?”
“I wish I did,” I say, grinning. “But if you want to make
me jealous then you’re well on your way.”
Seph goes quiet for a moment and looks down at her
hands. “Why would you be jealous?”
“I think I’d be jealous of anyone you talked about like
that. I don’t have any friends like that. “Us against the
world.””
She blushes and smiles a little, but doesn’t meet my gaze.
Crap, I don’t want her to feel awkward.
“Any chance you want to go for a walk? The woods are
beautiful right now.”
She looks up at me now, and the breath is knocked out of
my chest when those green eyes meet mine. I really, really,
like this girl.
“Sure. Let me change really quick.”
“Meet you back here?”
She nods, and I have to make it look like I’m not sprinting
to my cabin. It doesn’t really matter though because I’ve
never changed faster in my life. Jeans and one of the better
t-shirts that I brought. I’m back at the tree by the lake first,
just like I wanted to be. I want to sit and look cool like those
guys in the movies, even if I know that I can never, ever
come close to that.
I hear Seph’s laughter before I see her come around the
tree. “You were fast.”
All I do is smile. “Which path is your favorite?”
There are several cool wooded paths, and they all have
their own benefits. I like them all, and I know them like the
back of my hand since I’ve been coming here for years. But I
have a favorite, and I want to know hers.
“The waterfall path,” she says, and that makes me smile
wider. “It’s mine too,” I tell her.
We pass some of my friends on the way to the trailhead,
and they look at me with questions on their faces. I ignore
them entirely. I don’t give two shits about what they think of
Seph.
The path entrance is taped o , which is weird. I didn’t
realize that it was closed. I’ll have to ask Mom and Dad later
if there’s some kind of maintenance going on.
“That sucks,” Seph says. “I hadn’t been down this one
yet this year.”
I lift up the tape. “Don’t worry about it. We can still go.”
“I think we might get into trouble doing that,” she says.
I barely even debate telling her. It’s true that I don’t want
special treatment, but I’m not about to let this ruin the
moment that we could potentially have. “I don’t tell
everyone this because it sometimes makes it weird,” I say,
“but my parents are the camp directors. We won’t get in
trouble.”
She looks shocked and then laughs. “You’re their son?
I’m amazed they don’t blast that all over the camp.”
“We’ve come to an agreement.” I duck under the tape and
hold it up to her. She follows.
 “Well I’m glad we still get to do this. I love this path.”
“It’s the best.”
She smiles, and I see that she still has that notebook with
her, tucked against her chest as she walks. “Probably the one
thing about this summer that Leena will be jealous of me for.
This was one of our spots.”
I nod. “Sometimes there’s just as much good about being
somewhere that’s familiar.”
“That’s true, but I want to travel. I want to see everything
and go everywhere, and so being stuck wasn’t on the top of
my to-do list.”
I hold a tree branch out of her way as she brushes past it.
“Where would you go first, if you had the choice?”
“Greece.” There’s no hesitation in the answer. “My mom
obviously loved mythology enough to name me Persephone,
and even though it’s always been kind of a strange name, I
do love it. So I want to visit the place where all the stories
come from.”
“That’s the myth where she gets kidnapped and has to
spend half the year in hell, right?”
She laughs softly. “Yeah, that’s the basic version. But
there’s a lot of re-imaginings of it that make it less…harsh
than that.”
“What version of it would you write, if you got the
chance?”
She stops in her tracks and looks at me. “No one’s ever
asked me that before.”
“Have you thought about it?”
“Yeah,” she says, her fingers running across the cover of
her notebook. “In my version she wouldn’t be kidnapped.
She would be in love. So overwhelmed with it that she would
run away to hell to be with that person. But she still has
responsibilities to the rest of the world, and so she splits her
time between them.”
 I nod. “That’s a nicer version.”
“That’s the good thing about the myths. No one minds if
you change them up. It’s completely fine.”
We reach the section of the path that opens up into a
glade with a waterfall. There’s a giant rock that sits at the
edge of the pool, and when the path is open, this place is
usually pretty busy. This is one of the only times that I’ve
seen it completely vacant.
“For what it’s worth,” I say, “even if it’s selfish, I’m glad
you’re stuck for the summer.”
Looking over at me, Seph breaks into a shy smile. “Maybe
it won’t be so bad.”
She climbs up onto the rock, and I take a moment before I
follow her, watching her take it in. Seph has a way of
observing the world that is entirely new to me. She seems to
soak in everything around her. She’s present. It makes me
want to pay more attention to absolutely everything.
When I join her on top of the rock she sits down, and
she’s smiling even though I don’t think that she realizes it.
“I love this place. It feels like being in a place where time is
standing still, and the only thing that’s moving is the water,
and that’s because it doesn’t have a choice. This is a place
that the universe forgot and now it’s only ours.”
I understand what she means. Hidden away from
everything and entirely alone, this place feels special. “You
should be a poet,” I say.
“I’ve never been good at poetry,” she says quietly, “but I
do want to be a writer. And the traveling is part of that. I
want to write about what I see.”
“Poetic prose then.”
She shakes her head. “I’m really not that good.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” I say, grinning.
“Seriously.”
 “Prove it. Let me read what’s in that notebook that you
take everywhere.”
Seph only hesitates for a couple of seconds before she
hands me the notebook. “Okay.”
“Anything specific I should read?”
She shakes her head, and I flip it open to a random page.
Her handwriting is better than mine will ever hope to be.
Here time can stand still. The wind will blow and sound
disappears and it feels like the world has stopped spinning for the
space of one heartbeat. And that heartbeat lasts for a thousand
years and not at all.
It in those moments that I can remember lifetimes before my
own. This has always been here, and we’re just fragments of light
passing by. But for a single moment the world revolves around us.
We’re the center of the world, and everything hinges on the breath
we take.
But you have to notice it.
I don’t read anymore, but I don’t look up from the page,
because I think I’m having one of those moments right now.
These words are stunning and clear, and even though I’m
not sure I’ve felt what she’s describing I can imagine it with
such clarity that my chest aches.
“Seph,” I say, “this is beautiful.”
She stares at me, the look on her face telling me that
she’s deciding whether or not I’m lying. I’m not.
Her eyes flick to my lips then back to my eyes, and she
leans forward and kisses me. I go still with shock, and then
she’s pulling back, blushing.
I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I’m glad that it was
her. That it’s us right now. Because I like her. More than I
probably should. And I don’t say anything as I set the
notebook on the rock beside me and pull her closer. I give
Seph every chance to pull away, and she doesn’t.
And so I kiss her.
I don’t plan on stopping for a long time.
 7

PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

I could have sworn when I looked at the schedule this

morning that David was the counselor overseeing archery
with me today. But when I come out of the cabin fully
changed—no way was I going to stay in my bathing suit
after that—Eric is already there overseeing the boys.
He has a bow slung across his back and is showing several
of them the proper way to pull back the string so that you
don’t cut your fingers on it when you release.
I can’t stop seeing him sprawled on the beach, wet and
sparkling. And I can’t stop thinking about what he asked me.
Why I’m being so cold to him? The answer is complicated
and makes me want to run and hide so I don’t have to see his
stupid gorgeous face. Or his body in his still-drying clothes.
Eric’s body was perfect when we spent the summer
together, and it’s only gotten better. He’s grown into his
height and his weight, and the damp t-shirt he has on does
nothing to hide it.
I try to ignore him and focus on my girls. Archery is
something that I’ve always loved, and I kept doing it long
after camp. Now I don’t do it as much as I would like, but I
try to get to the range at least once a month so I can keep the
skill sharp. If there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, I’ll get to be
the badass chick with a bow. And people will want me
because I’ll have a valuable fighting skill. Win-win.
Margot pulls back and releases a perfect shot that hits
within the bulls-eye ring. She’s got a natural eye for it and is
sinking shot after shot without much practice. “Michael,”
she calls over at the boys. “That’s three bull’s eyes in a row.”
“Don’t worry,” he calls back after landing a shot that
barely snags the edge of the target. “I’m just biding my time
until I kick your ass.”
“Or I could just kick your ass now,” she says, laughing.
Lord, these girls are going to kill me. But I know that I
was like that at that age, and so was Leena. Constantly
wanting to one-up the boys in hopes that they would notice
us. But that summer…
I didn’t need any boys to notice me. Eric already had, and
he was all I needed. Glancing over at me, he’s already staring
at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Fine. We can do this. I know what it’s like to be them, and
I’ll throw them a bone. “What do you think, Eric. A little
friendly competition between your group and mine?”
His lips curl into a smile. “What’s the prize?”
“Bragging rights,” I say. “And our next shift in the
kitchen.” There’s a rotating list of chores that all the
campers do. They’re pretty basic as the camp has a full-time
sta . But still, everyone tries to get out of their shift if they
possibly can, so it’s a pretty good motivator.
“What do you say, guys?”
There are some enthusiastic yeses from that group, along
with more than a few smug looks. “Girls?”
“Hell, yes,” Margot says, and almost everyone agrees.
“How do we do it?”
Eric smirks. “Everyone line up. Face o . Everyone gets a
single shot. Closest to bullseye gets the point for the team.”
Then he focuses his eyes on me. “Persephone and I will go
last.”
There’s lots of cheers at that, and everyone is already
lining up to start, and Michael and Margot are at the front of
the line. Surprise surprise.
“Take your time,” I whisper to her. “Land the shot as if
you’re completely alone.” She nods and grabs an arrow.
Across the lane Eric is giving his own advice. I wonder
what it is.
Margot doesn’t even look at her opponent. She takes a
deep breath and focuses only on the target. There’s calls of
encouragement and discouragement from both sides, but she
ignores them all. She takes her time just like I told her to,
and when she releases the arrow it flies straight and buries
itself almost in the exact center of the bull’s eye. There’s a
collective ‘oooooh,’ from both teams, and poor Michael goes
a little pale.
But he draws his own arrow and focuses down the lane.
It’s not a bad shot. Much better than the one that he bragged
about taking his time with, and still within bullseye range,
but not as close as Margot’s.
He glares at her, and she smirks, but there’s not any
animosity there. We’re going to have to keep an eye on the
two of them.
But that’s the way it goes. There are excellent shots on
both sides, and the score fluctuates back and forth, the
number of people until I have to shoot dwindling quickly.
The boys are up by two, and then by one, and the last of the
campers are up. Emily is the one who’s about to shoot, and
as much as I know that she’s going to be a pain in my ass
this summer, I want her to win.
She doesn’t need any encouragement from me—she’s
been practically bouncing on her toes waiting for her turn.
And she doesn’t wait, pulling back the arrow and firing so
quickly I hold my breath, because it barely looked like she
aimed. But the arrow lands just right of center, and she grins
like a cat who’s eaten a canary.
The last boy—a camper whose name I don’t know—steps
up and aims. He does his best, but I can tell that he’s new to
this, and his shot goes wide. It hits in the outside circle, and
all the girls erupt in cheers. We’re tied.
It’s down to me and Eric now. I look over. “One shot or
best of three?”
There’s a chorus of ‘best of three,’ and Eric shrugs as he
steps up to the plate. We did plenty of archery together, and
he’s definitely good. I have no idea how often he’s been
practicing, so I’ll take nothing for granted.
Eric pulls back on his first shot, and I’m distracted by his
arms. Nothing but corded muscle is there, flexing as he pulls
the string back and aims. I can imagine those arms in a very
di erent context, and I force myself to take a deep breath.
I’m not the only one who notices the way his shirt pulls tight
over his shoulders. There are definitely whispers around me
from the girls. I can’t even blame them.
He fires a little high, and it’s a decent arrow. The second
shot—equally as distracting to me— lands to the left of the
bullseye. And the last one is right down the middle. The
smile he shoots me is full of heat and daring. He wants me to
do better. And I’m not going to let him win just for the hell
of it.
I step up to the plate and tune out the sounds around me,
focusing on nothing but me and the target. I sense the air
and the way it’s flowing. The angle of the target and myself.
All these things that I’ve been trained to do over the years
that happen almost reflexively.
Archery is a paradox. Because in order to hit the bullseye,
you can’t aim at it. You have to aim above it and take into
account the speed, quality of the air, and the fall of the
arrow. I take a deep breath, pull, aim, and release in one
smooth motion.
It lands true, and relief pours through me. One down.
The second shot veers a little to the right, but it’s still
close. I know it’s the last shot that’s tricky, because I have to
avoid the two other arrows. I hold my breath and pick where
I want it to land. There’s a tiny breeze, and I adjust, and feel
when I need to release the string.
The arrow slices through the air and lands exactly where I
want it to: right next to my first arrow. I did it.
The whole group of girls screams and mobs me, because
it’s clear who the winner is. My grouping is clearly closer.
The boys look disappointed, but Eric has a grin on his face
that’s so wide I think that his face might split open. “Class
dismissed,” he says, nodding his head toward the dining
hall. “I owe you a coke.”
It’s hotter than hell right now, and after that and having
to watch him and those delicious arms, I’m not going to say
no. “I need one, and I won’t turn down a free drink.”
The ancient soda machine is right outside the camp
director’s o ce and cabin. I think it was originally placed
there way back when because it was one of the first buildings
with electricity in the camp. But now it’s more so kids don’t
try to shake soda out of it. Most of the campers here are good
kids, but you never know.
Following Eric has its advantages. Namely watching his
ass in those jeans. Being close to him today. The yoga. The
archery. Now. It’s not doing anything good for my self-
control. When we reach the machine I have to pretend that I
haven’t just been checking him out.
Eric puts in quarters for him and for me and hands me the
drink when it spits out of the machine. I lean against the wall
of the cabin and he leans against the machine. We’re both
panting a little in the heat, but I’m unwilling to move farther
away from him. My brain is not cooperating with the need to
stay away.
Resisting is exhausting, and being here with him is
making me fall back into our old, easy patterns like nothing
ever happened. “Is this the same machine?” I ask. It looks
like the same one, but that machine was ancient even then,
and I would have thought it would be replaced by now.
“It’s the same one, yeah.”
I laugh. “It’s probably as old as we are.”
“Just about,” he sighs, and his whole body seems a little
heavier. “Same with the bus. I should replace them. Would if
we could, but the camp really can’t a ord it right now. If we
want to pay our sta , upgrades aren’t in the books right
now.”
“Really? Why?”
He shrugs, and gives me a carefree smile that I don’t
think is the whole truth. “You know how it is. It’s been a
hard couple of years.”
We’re silent for a moment, and this feels a little like it
used to. Cicadas sing and the noise of the campers travel to
us from the distance. The cold of the soda is good, in the
heat—burning even though we’re in the shade.
“I miss this,” Eric says. “Days like this.”
“What do you mean?” I suspect that I already know, but I
want to hear him put a voice to it.
“I mean when life was simpler and easier. When there
were less things to worry about.”
“Are things that bad?” I ask, studying him.
He turns his body fully toward mine and takes a step
closer. “Not right now,” he says softly. “Not with you.”
I can’t say anything, because I’m struggling to breathe.
Taking a sip of coke, I pretend that he isn’t a ecting me at
all. It doesn’t work.
 “Seph,” he says, using my nickname even though I told
him not to. I can’t imagine him using anything else in this
moment. “I’ve never forgotten that summer, you know.”
“Oh?” I look away, and he guides my gaze back to his
with a brush of fingers on my cheek.
“It was the best summer of my life.”
My stomach does a flip. His eyes burn into mine, the blue
of heat and flame. Using his thumb, he brushes a drop of the
soda from my lower lip. A barely there touch that has me
shaking, resisting the urge to lean into him. His gaze drops
to my lips, and he sucks in a breath.
And then he’s kissing me, and I’m letting him. God, it
feels so good to remember how this feels. He pulls back,
searching my eyes, looking for me to say no. I can’t.
As many times as Eric Elmore wants to kiss me, I’m going
to let him. And he leans in to kiss me again. Harder this time.
 8

ERIC
PRESENT

The second my lips meet Seph’s the second time, all bets are
o . My can of coke is on the ground and I’ll scold myself for
littering later. Right now there’s no time, because if I don’t
get this woman naked and underneath me I’m going to
spontaneously combust. And Seph is right there with me. Her
arms twine around my neck and I haul her closer to me,
dragging her to the door to my cabin while at the same time
unwilling to let go of her or take my lips o hers.
I need to get her inside, or I’m going to fuck her against
the wall, and I can’t have the campers seeing that. Somehow,
I manage to pull open the door and get us through it, and I
slam it closed and press her up against the door, flicking the
lock. Seph’s body feels so good against mine. Like the answer
to a question that I’ve been asking for years.
It’s crazy how familiar it feels, even though it’s been
years. My own body has never forgotten. I groan against her
lips, and her fingers claw into my shoulders. We’re trying to
consume each other. I press her harder into the door, letting
her feel how hard she makes me. And savoring that softness
of her that I felt earlier when I pulled her out of the water.
Finally giving in fully to that animal attraction that roared
yesterday just at the sight of her.
 This is all brutally familiar. Just like that first summer
when we couldn’t get enough of each other. It’s like as soon
as I saw her all of that came rushing back with a force that I
couldn’t contain. And I love the way that she’s clinging to
me, but I have to be sure.
“Do you want this?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
It’s more of a moan and I’m so hard that I can barely
force more words out. “Are you sure?”
“We shouldn’t,” she says, pulling my mouth to hers
again. Everything is white fire. “But we—I have to.”
That’s all I need to hear. We’ll talk about why she’s so
dead set against this later. In this moment it doesn’t seem
important. Nothing is as important as the feel and the taste
of her. I need to have everything. I need that memory that I
already have of her to be layered with new ones of her skin.
My hands find the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over
her head and tossing it aside. It leaves her hair a mess in its
wake, and I’m enamored of that crazy halo of red. I have a
déjà vu seeing that red hair spread out before me, wanton
and tempting. Jesus.
Seph’s hands are on me, exploring my chest and my
arms, roaming over the shirt that’s still damp from the lake.
I strip it over my head because I want her to touch me. I pull
back just far enough to see her. To look at her and encourage
her to look and touch and taste. I’m glad that I’ve been
working out. Every ounce of soreness that I’ve dragged from
my body is worth it to see the way her eyes devour me. Deep,
feral satisfaction fills my veins. That’s how I want my
woman to look at me. And Seph is my woman.
Seph’s fingers drift across my skin, and I shudder under
her hands. she looks dazed and awed and like I’m the best
thing that she’s ever seen.
She’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.
 The bra she’s wearing is more daring than I expected for
under a camp t-shirt. White and sheer and lacy, cupping her
perfect breasts and putting them on display like a perfectly
packaged present. Reaching out, I touch them. Softly at first,
and then harder, enjoying the weight and the give. Her
nipples pebble into hardness when I stroke my thumbs
across them, even through the fabric, and she leans back
against the door with her eyes closed. She’s panting for
breath, lips parted and dewy with the remnants of my kisses.
I brush my hands down the sides of her ribs, watching as
goosebumps appear even in the summer heat. “Seph,” I
breathe. I’m at a crossroads, because I need hard and fast,
but I also want to savor her.
Maybe we can have both. “Don’t move,” I tell her,
striding across the room to my suitcase and grabbing a
condom from the box I travel with out of habit. Thank fuck. I
honestly didn’t think that I would be getting laid at all this
summer. I had resigned myself to coming into my hand in
the shower for the next two months. I’m glad that the
universe threw me a bone.
My pants are gone by the time I reach her again, and Seph
is down to her bra and panties. I stroke my cock as I watch
her, and she’s squirming with anticipation. I cannot wait to
be inside her again. Pressing her into the door again with my
body, I let my cock sit between us, hard and straining. A
wicked promise.
“We’ve never had sex against a door,” I say with a smile.
She smiles too, but grabs my shoulders and squeezes.
“And we might not if you don’t start fucking me. I’m going
to take matters into my own hands in the next thirty
seconds.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, and I let my lips crash down on hers
again. It only takes seconds to slip the condom on my cock
and scoop my hands under her ass to lift her. Trapping her
against the door with my body, I reach between us and shove
her panties aside and fit myself against her. I remember the
last time we were together it was hesitant and new—but still
amazing.
This time she’s already soaking wet, and neither of us
have the patience for soft and slow. That can come later. I
ease into her, taking it slow, since I’m bigger than I used to
be.
Seph goes entirely still as I enter her, sucking in a grasp
of breath and her pussy clamps down on me, squeezing and
making me go blind with sensation. Holy shit, I’m going to
lose it and we haven’t even started.
Capturing her lips, I don’t let her take another breath. I
ravage her mouth as I begin to move. Not smooth and not
soft—just raw, brutal, fucking.
Plunging into Persephone is like plunging into fire. Just
like the hell that the mythical Persephone was banished to.
Driving my cock into her over and over again feels like
coming home. Something I hadn’t truly realized that I was
missing until just now, and that I can’t believe that I’ve lived
without all this time. I don’t plan on living without it ever
again. She’s mine whether she knows it or not, and I’m
going to prove it with every thrust of my cock inside her.
The door rattles behind us with the force of my fucking,
and I love the sound—the audible proof of this. Seph breaks
away from our kiss, throwing her head back and crying out,
eyes closed in rapture and fuck it feels good to see her like
that.
I already feel like I want to see more of her. See that look
of total abandon on her face and know that I am the source
of it. I’m swirling down into something deep and dangerous,
driven by need and pleasure and something that I don’t dare
name. I can’t. Not now.
 The orgasm is building in my spine, but I’m holding onto
it. Seph is going to come apart on my cock before I even
think about coming. I drive deeper into her, grinding against
her clit with my hips while I wrap my hands more firmly
around her thighs. She hooks her legs more firmly around
my hips, pulling me against her. That little sensation of her
feet pressing into my ass drives me crazy. She wants me. She
wants more.
“Oh fuck,” she says, voice unsteady and nails gripping
my arms. “God. Fuck. Yes. Please.”
Every word is punctuated by another thrust of my cock,
and I shift to push in deeper. As deep as I can go, and she
takes me beautifully. Our bodies slam together with that raw
sound of animal sex, and pleasure builds through my body so
quickly that I feel like a live electric wire. I swear to god
sparks could be coming o me.
The sound of her pleasure drives me forward, and I keep
my rhythm steady, bracing myself so I can reach between us
again and touch her clit, stroke her in time with my
movements, and her voice is loud in my cabin as she falls
apart.
Her pussy spasms around me, squeezing down again, and
it’s all I can do to hang on to my own orgasm. I fuck her
through her own, feeling her relax and shake and breathe,
melting against me in the most perfect way. And when she
opens her eyes and looks at me, I lose control. My rhythm
falters as I take what I need, pushing deep and letting the
pleasure flood my bones.
I groan, pressing my lips against her neck and holding
myself deep. My cock jerks, bright waves of ecstasy pouring
over me as I grind against her. It’s so good, sharp and bright
and fierce, passing through me and clinging to my bones and
passing through.
 We collapse against the door together, breathing hard and
wrapped up in each other. “That was…”
I don’t have the words. Mind blowing. Life changing.
Entirely what I wanted and yet not what I was expecting at
all. That was hands down was the best sex I’ve ever had. The
only other time I’ve felt like this was…with her.
Obviously Seph isn’t the only person that I’ve ever slept
with, but she’s the only person that I’ve ever felt this kind of
pleasure and satisfaction with. She was my first love, and I
know that’s part of it. If it’s more than that…
“Yeah,” she says. “God.”
I’m still inside her, and I don’t want to move, but I’m also
not entirely ready for this to be over, and if I want us to
continue, we need to separate. But not quite yet.
Now that the frenzy has passed, I lean down and press a
kiss to her lips. They’re soft under mine and taste sweet. Like
a whisper of chocolate and a hint of rose. She’s perfect.
I keep kissing her as she lets her legs slip back down to
the floor and we separate. But I hold her close, tangling my
fingers in her hair until we’re both short of breath again.
“Do you have anything on the schedule this afternoon?” I
ask her.
She bites her lip. “Lifeguarding this afternoon. But I have
a few hours. Why?”
“You haven’t realized?” I raise an eyebrow and smile
down at her. “We’re not remotely finished.”
She takes a shaky breath and blushes, but she doesn’t
look disappointed. “We’re not?”
Drawing my lips across her shoulder, I pull her away from
the door and peel her out of the rest of her clothes so that
she’s entirely naked in front of me. Seph is fucking radiant. A
goddess that I can’t take my eyes o , and one that I plane to
defile in ways that the gods would likely not approve of.
“Baby, we’re just getting started.”
 9

PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

I let Eric pull me over to his desk in a haze of pleasure. He

just fucked me. Not just that, but took me in a way I can’t
ever remember being taken. I’ve never had sex like that. Not
ever. Not even the first time with him which was beautiful
and amazing.
This is a memory I’ll cherish, and I should walk away. It’ll
end badly, and I don’t want it to. But my mind is still
swimming in the pleasure he pulled out of me, and I don’t
think I would have the strength to say no even if I wanted to.
I don’t.
Seeing him naked in front of me is like a gorgeous dream.
Perfect fucking body, those sculpted muscles I was eyeing
when he was firing his arrows continue across his body,
casting his form with dips and peaks and smooth skin. I
want to run my tongue along the lines of his abs and pecs,
and maybe taste those forearms while I’m at it.
And I haven’t even let myself think about his cock. It’s
much bigger than the last time I saw it, and when he walked
across the room towards m, fully hard, jutting out and
curving upward, I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet. He filled
me up to the brink, and I want that feeling again. I want him
to take his time with me.
 Eric shoves some papers across the desk and lifts me onto
it in one smooth motion. “What am I doing on your desk?”
He grins as he sinks down in front of me pulling my legs
apart. “It seemed like a convenient height.”
That’s all the warning I get before his mouth is on me,
tongue tracing over the entrance to my pussy and circling
my clit, stealing any bit of breath that I have left and any
semblance of willpower. He’s gotten better at this too.
The brush of his tongue makes me wetter, and I’m slick
with him and my own arousal, feeling him slide against me
with ease. Oh fuck. My body is already primed and ready for
pleasure, and it’s already rising through my skin,
threatening to overwhelm me.
Eric’s hands are on my thighs, pulling me closer while he
pushes his tongue deep inside me. Stroking, teasing, that
intimate touch bringing me to the edge. I shove my hands
into his hair to hold him still, and the noise that comes out
of me is sheer raw need.
He licks into me with agonizing slowness. My legs are
shaking, and I swear that all I can see is white. Slowly
moving back up to my clit, swirling his tongue around it in
patterns that leave me no air to breathe. Over and over and
over again until I’m panting, moaning, saying his name.
Instead of pulling back he only works me harder, never
letting up, driving me higher with that maddening tongue of
his, until I’m dissolving around him. Pleasure spirals up and
out and through, and I let my head fall back, my voice
echoing o the walls.
The first orgasm was amazing, and this one is just as
good. Fireworks shivering across my skin, and that perfect
pleasure sinking deep.
God. I masturbate, but it’s been awhile since I’ve had sex.
Even longer since I’ve had good sex. I flood Eric’s mouth
with my orgasm, and he drinks me up, never letting up as I
finish, drawing out every last bit of the climax until I’m
gasping and limp. Bent over him as he kneels before me.
When he finally pulls away, he looks at me, his lips and
mouth shining with me. Fuck that’s sexy, and I nearly lose
consciousness when he licks his lips, one corner of his
mouth tipping up into a smile. “Just like I remember.”
A furious blush races up my chest and across my cheeks.
“Stop,” I say, embarrassed. “You do not remember what I
taste like.”
He stands, stepping between my legs so our faces are
close and perfectly level. So close that we’re only a breath
apart. “I do,” he says softly. “You’re just as delicious now as
you were then.”
My cheeks are so hot I must be as red as a tomato. He
covers my mouth with his, and he still tastes like me. It
makes me wet all over again, and I’m not a woman who can
usually just keep going. But I just want more. All of him.
Now that we’re moving slowly, we’re exploring each
other. Eric’s hands are running across my skin and I finally
get to feel the hardness I was admiring in the way I want to.
Muscles contract under my fingers, hardening and flexing.
His cock hardens between us too.
He’s bigger than he was when we were first together.
More than a little. And I explore that too, stroking him until
he’s as hard as the desk that I’m sitting on. “You asked me
how much time I had,” I say. “How much time do you
have?”
His eyes go dark with hunger. “I’m the camp director. I
can make whatever time we need.”
Lust curls in my gut, and the possibility of holing up with
him unrolls before me. We can’t do that. I know we can’t. But
I also can’t say that the thought isn’t appealing.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to his collarbone.
“Good,” I whisper. We’ll make it last as long as it needs to
last. And that’s that. Right now, I have plans to return the
favor, because like him, I have some memories of our first
time together, and I want to see how they match up.
I slip o the desk and down to the floor, doing my best to
not let my lips leave his skin while I do. He goes still,
watching me intently. I don’t even think that he’s breathing,
like he thinks that if he moves, he’ll scare me away and I
won’t want to do this.
“Seph,” he says. It’s at once a question and a plea.
“Fair’s fair,” I say with grin.
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be about fair.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe I remember what you taste
like too,” I say.
Eric’s cock jumps in my hand, and I grin. I’m having a
little bit of déjà vu, but this time is better. This time I’m not
nervous. I know what I’m doing, and I want to hear the
sounds he’s going to make when I do this.
I start with the tip of my tongue. Just brushing across the
head softly. Eric shudders, rubbing his hands across his
head. “Jesus.”
“If that’s how you react to my tongue this isn’t going to
last long.”
When he looks down, his eyes are on fire. “Seph, it’s a
battle not to come just looking at you. That tongue is my
undoing.”
My stomach flips, and I focus on his cock again. I can’t let
him know just how much I want to be his undoing. I lick
across his skin again, harder this time. Under the tip and
then over. Down his shaft, tracing the hard lines of his cock
and savoring the soft feeling of his skin, of the taste that
brings back memories in vivid color. Stronger than I thought
they would be.
Eric groans, and I take that as a sign. I slip my mouth over
the tip of his cock, sucking with just my lips. Little flicks of
my tongue under his head make the muscles in his stomach
jump. I’ve learned some tricks over the last six years. Tricks
I’m going to take full advantage of.
I sink down further onto his shaft. Eric swears under his
breath, and a hand lands in my hair, gripping it. Not hard,
just pure need and desperation. Just how much bigger he is is
obvious right now. He’s filling my mouth, and my lips are
stretched when I’ve only taken half of his cock.
Wrapping my fingers around his base, I start moving,
taking him in a rhythm that I hope he loves. Fast in and slow
out, sucking as hard as I can manage and never breaking it. I
can tell he’s trying not to move, because his hips are
thrusting toward me every time I swallow him down but he’s
holding back.
There will be another time when I tell him not to hold
back. But this time is mine. This time I want to take him to
the brink with me. I hum around his shaft, and Eric’s fingers
tighten in my hair. “Wait,” he gasps, duding me o his cock.
“Wait.”
I blink up at him, the question in my eyes.
“I was going to come,” he says.
I smirk. “Is that a bad thing? That was kind of the goal.”
“I want to be inside you.”
“And I want to taste your cum,” I say, reaching for him
again.
“Fuck, Seph,” he says, hauling me to my feet and into his
arms. We’re at his bed in seconds, and I’m pushed over it,
bent so my ass is against him. I barely have time to hear the
crinkle of the condom before he’s in me again, pressing me
down into the bed. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he
growls, mouth against the back of my neck.
I gasp when he thrusts in to the hilt, mind going blank
with that feeling of perfect fullness. “I feel cheated,” I
manage to say, my voice completely breathless and
ine ective. “I wanted you to come.”
“I’m going to come,” he says. “Faster than I’d like.”
“You owe me,” I say. My voice slides into a moan but I
force the words out, fully aware that they’re turning me on
just as much as they are him. “I want to take all of you and
taste you down my throat. I want you to fill my mouth up
until it’s spilling out.”
Eric groans, thrusting harder. Faster. Pushing his hands
down my spine, I’m locked against the bed as he fucks me.
All the way inside me, so deep that I’m seeing stars with
every movement, the friction showering pleasure down on
me like rain.
I’m the one who’s going to come now. It’s inevitable. My
hands are fisted in the sheets and it feels like I’m barely
hanging on even though I’m solidly on the bed. Eric knocks
my legs further apart with his own, managing to go even
deeper than before. I’m moaning into the comforter, the
mu ed sound even more erotic than my echoing cries of
earlier.
The pleasure is building, and I can’t fight it. All I can do is
feel. Eric presses the length of his body against mine, hips
still working me with long strokes as he slips his hand under
my hips and seeks out my clit. I’m slick with my own
wetness, and his fingers slipping across my clit send me over
the edge.
I yell into the blanket, orgasm roaring through me. Sex
has never felt like this. And I know deep in my gut that it’s
not just the sex, it’s because it’s him.
Eric grabs my hands where they’re tangled in his
blankets, holding on as he comes too, groaning into my neck.
His cock jerks inside me. It sets o a whole new wave of
pleasure. A wave that I sink beneath and I’m happy never to
come back up from.
 We come to stillness together, and there’s comfort in
relaxing with someone like this. Connected as deeply as we
are. There’s a deep, carnal part of me that never wants to
move again.
Eric is the first one to move. He slips out of me,
disappearing for a moment before returning and once again
picking me up. This time to lie me down on the bed properly
and rest beside me. He pulls me close, and I feel…settled. At
ease. The explosion between us happened, and so far,
nothing bad has happened.
That doesn’t mean it won’t, but for this moment I want to
pretend that everything is fine and that we didn’t just make
a mistake. Nothing in my body holds any regret for what just
happened, and so I push my thoughts aside. “I don’t want to
leave,” I say, letting myself relax.
“You don’t have to.”
“Lifeguarding,” I say.
Eric laughs, the vibration soothing. “You’ve still got a
couple of hours.”
I sink down into a place of peace and stillness. Not quite
sleep, but almost. With Eric’s hand drawing patterns on my
spine, I let myself truly rest for the first time in a long time.
10
 ERIC
PRESENT

Holding Seph while she’s sleeping is as perfect as I hoped it

would be. I don’t even know how long she’s been drifting,
but I don’t care. I’ll hold her however long she likes. I meant
what I said earlier. If we need more time, I can make us more
time. If that’s what it takes to show her that this is what she
needs, then I’ll do it. The raw, brutal part of me wants to
lock us in this cabin together and do nothing but fuck until
she can admit that she wants me every bit as much as I’ve
wanted her all these years.
Not realistic, but I’m still tempted. I have responsibilities
in this job, but this—this is even bigger than that. This is a
second chance, even if she’s not sure of that yet. When she
opens her eyes, it’s going to be the real world again, and I’m
going to have to convince her that this wasn’t a mistake.
It’s not. I know it so deep in my gut that I can’t question
it. But there’s also a lot that we have to talk about. Like
Leena. We’re going to have to be okay with that, and because
we’re not teenagers anymore it might not be the easiest
conversation. But not right now. For the moment I’m
content simply to hold her and to pretend that the rest of
world and responsibilities and exes and the camp outside do
not exist. Pretend that the only thing that that matters is the
feeling of her skin under mine and the sound of her pleasure
under my hands.
Somewhere behind me my phone vibrates. I think it’s in
my pants on the floor. A phone call and not a text. If
someone really needs me and they can’t find me on the
phone they’ll knock on the door. It’s the first day of camp.
No one can have an emergency that bad already. Right?
Thankfully the phone doesn’t vibrate again, and I let
myself drift while still holding her. But even half asleep I
can’t seem to make myself stop moving my hands across her
skin. Little movements of my fingers that convince me that
we’re here and that this is actually real.
I’m not sure how long passes while I listen to Seph breath
beside me. But every second is perfect. I don’t want to move,
because it might break this spell. And as much as I want to, I
can’t ask her to start sleeping in this bed with me. She has
campers to take care of. They might notice if she was gone.
After a while she takes a deeper breath and stirs,
stretching in my arms. “I didn’t think that I would fall
asleep,” she says softly.
I brush my knuckles down her cheek, and she closes her
eyes again. “You can fall asleep with me anytime.”
Seph tucks her face into my neck, and I’m not sure if
she’s avoiding the statement or grateful for it. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to.”
She laughs softly. “I don’t want to, but it’s not like I’m
not going to see you around.”
I’ve never been more grateful to be stuck in one place for
the entire summer. Across the room my phone buzzes again,
and I groan.
“Answer it.”
I slowly pull away from her, immediately missing her
warmth and softness, and find my cellphone in the pocket of
my jeans. It’s a voicemail from my agency in New York, and
my stomach flips with dread. They weren’t happy with me
putting everything musical on hold for two months while I
do this.
There’s a text message too, and I open it. Skimming the
contents. It’s another plea begging me to ditch camp and
come back to the city. There’s a small July festival that has
an opening that would be perfect for me and my brand.
I close my eyes, feeling the familiar conflict.
For years I clawed my way up through the music industry.
I’ve done everything imaginable from playing for other
people to being a session guitarist to writing songs for
artists far bigger than me. But I’m good. I know I am. And
after moving to New York a few years ago, I finally started to
play my own shows and then other people thought that I was
good too.
My manager found me at a hole in the wall bar in
Brooklyn, playing to people who were drunk and more
interested in each other than me. But my life has been
di erent ever since. I’ve been playing bigger venues and
actually getting paid for music. Until this summer happened.
It was made incredibly clear to me that this is an unstable
point in my career and taking time o wasn’t exactly a good
idea. But I don’t have a choice.
I suppose I do have a choice, but it’s not one that I would
ever make.
“Everything okay?” Seph asks.
I force a smile and look at her. “Yeah. Just someone from
home checking in.” They’ll call again later I’m sure, and I’ll
have to explain yet again why I can’t come back to New York.
I love living in that city, and truly for the most part the
people who live there are good and down to earth. And then
there are the other times where the New York bubble is real,
and people can’t see outside of themselves. With my
manager and the rest of the team, this has been one of those
times.
My phone rings again, this time it’s my dad. Again. Twice
in one day is a little much. Which means it’s probably
actually important.
“Popular,” Seph whispers.
“I do need to take this one,” I say, sitting on the edge of
the bed.
She sits up. “Should I leave?”
“No, stay,” I say, putting my hand on her ankle and
stroking her skin. I click answer on the call. “Two times in
one day. You worried about me?”
A rough chuckle. “No. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”
“Then it’s you.”
He sighs. “Yeah. They’re taking me in for another PET
scan tomorrow. Something about just wanting to check
something but they’re being cagey. And you know that
doctors being cagey is never a good thing.”
“Yeah…” I say. “Do you need me back there?”
“No, I just want to keep you up to date. Nothing in this
situation is good coming as a surprise.”
I scrub a hand across my face. “That’s true. Let me know
though. I’ll probably have to make a run for things in the
next week. I can stop by.”
There’s a brief hesitation. “Your mother would like that.”
My dad has never had a problem asking me to do things.
He’s not too proud to admit that he needs help, and that’s
why he asked me to take over the camp for him this summer,
since everything is up in the air. If he’s not up on his feet
next year or worse—I stop that thought in its tracks—he’ll
hire someone who might be interested in the position full
time.
But he’s never been good at asking for things like visits,
and so I’ve learned to interpret. And him saying that my
mother will enjoy the visit is enough to let me know that
he’d like to see me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“How is the first day going?”
I can’t help the smile on my face. “I think it might be the
best first day of camp that I’ve ever had,” I say, squeezing
Seph’s foot. “Turns out there’s someone on sta here that
was a camper with me, and its been good to catch up. And
it’s a good group of campers.”
My dad breaks into a coughing fit, which makes me tense
with nervousness. He doesn’t sound good. I’m definitely
going to visit him when I have to make a run into town
where my parents live. “That’s great, son. I don’t want to
keep you from your day, so I’ll keep you posted.”
“Okay.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye. His voice was tight,
and I have no doubt that he was holding back more coughing
until the connection ended.
“Who was that?” Seph asks.
“My dad,” I say, avoiding her eyes. Not very many people
know that my dad is sick. Not anyone here at the camp—
they think that he’s taking a year o to travel with my mom
—not my manager or team, and now not Seph.
If he would let me tell people, it would be easier. I doubt
that my team would be so confused about the two-month
hiatus if they knew. But my dad doesn’t want anyone to
know. It’s who he’s always been, and I can’t change him. But
I can’t ignore the feeling that my music dream is drifting out
of reach by the second.
It’s not anyone’s fault. You can’t blame cancer for being
an asshole. It just is.
Seph clears her throat, and I realize that I’ve been quiet
for a couple of minutes. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s doing okay. Just checking in to see how I’m
doing on my first day.”
 “I was wondering how you ended up here. Your dad loves
this place.”
I swallow and force another smile. “Yeah, he just needed
a year o , so he roped me into it. So far it hasn’t been that
bad.”
She grins. “No, it hasn’t.” Sliding o the bed, she
saunters over to where her clothes are still on the floor, and I
get a stunning view of her ass. God, I could watch her walk
around naked all day. She slips into her panties. And then her
shorts, and I sigh as her body disappears from view. Seph
shoots me a sassy grin over her shoulder at the sound.
“Thank you for not tearing my clothes o by the way. That
would have been hard to explain walking across camp.”
I smirk. “You’re giving me ideas for next time.”
She looks troubled for a moment, and I bite my tongue
from asking her what is wrong. I know what’s wrong. The
ghost of Leena is between us, and right now with her on her
way out the door we don’t have enough time for the
conversation. Finally, she smiles. “Yeah.”
My chest eases. At least for now, there will be a next time.
That’s something, at least. “See you at dinner?”
She nods, staring at me for a moment and blushing before
unlocking the door and slipping out. I lean back on the bed,
taking a deep breath. Holy fuck. This day has been a
whirlwind and it’s not over.
I need to make a time to go into town, I can pick up a
replacement tire for the bus and I’ll check with the kitchen
sta if they need anything for meals and the bonfire this
Friday. I need to put my clothes on and check on everybody
and make sure everything is going smoothly. But the only
thought that’s filling my mind right now is the way that
Seph tastes and how I want to bury myself in her again and
again until we’re both so exhausted that we can’t move from
the bed.
 Ducking into the bathroom, I take a quick shower. It’s a
decently large shower, and it might be fun to bring Seph in
here and…fuck why is this so complicated?
I’m not even sure where we fell apart. When we were here
that summer, we were so in love. And we were those
teenagers that I have to keep an eye out for, sneaking o to
have sex whenever possible. And then later, when by some
miracle Seph and I ended up at the same high school, it was
like the summer had never happened. No spark at all.
Thinking about that still hurts, and I fucked up. I rebounded
with the worst person possible for Seph.
Maybe if I hadn’t, things would be di erent now. But
Leena was bright and shining and at the time she was a balm
for how much I was hurting. And as stupid as it was, we
continued to be that for each other over the years.
But we were never meant to be, and now that we’re not
together I can only hope that I can repair the damage that
the two of us did, and find out what really happened between
Seph and me. Why did she give up so suddenly? What did I
do?
Even after everything we just did, the thoughts of her in
this shower with me have me hard and stroking my cock
hard enough that I see stars when I pour my orgasm down
the drain. I need her again. Always.
I dry myself o and try to untangle the thoughts still in
my head, though it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be
possible.
I pull on my pants and try to shove the unanswered
questions from my mind so that I’m able to function and do
my job. But it’s still an echo.
What did I do? What can I do now? How can I make her mine?
11
 PERSEPHONE
SIX YEARS AGO

“Boo.”
I startle at his voice, wrapped up in the writing as I was.
Eric presses a kiss to my cheek as he bends over my
shoulder, a secret, hidden kiss. We’ve had to be careful, and
yet not too careful. Because ever since we kissed at the
waterfall it’s like a match was lit to waiting gasoline. That
was both of our first kiss, and we weren’t great. But over the
past few weeks we’ve gotten better.
And Even though we’ve been trying not to be too obvious,
I think it would be clear to anyone who sees us together. The
same way that Leena and I were last year, Eric and I are
inseparable. And she might not forgive me for saying it, but
hanging out with someone you can make out with is a lot
more fun.
“Hi,” I say. “You got me.”
“Whatcha doing?” he asks, sitting down on the bench
beside me. “Oh wait, I know.” He’s grinning though. I know
he doesn’t care that I’m writing. More often than not he asks
me to let him read it, and more often than not I let him. I
blush anyway, though. It’s a reaction that I can’t seem to
control when I’m around him.
“You know.”
 “I do.” He looks around to make sure that no one’s
watching before leaning in for a real kiss. I love his kisses.
Soft and sweet that somehow morph into hot and hungry at
a moment’s notice. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.
And it’s not just the physical stu , though that’s been
amazing so far. I’ve done stu in the last weeks that I never
would have considered doing before. Sneaking out so I can
kiss Eric until I’m breathless, his hands and my hands
roaming until we’re both gasping and wanting more, but not
quite ready for it. But I’ve felt the way he’s hard beneath his
clothes, and he’s felt the way my breasts swell and the heat
at the seam of my pants, and I know we’ll get there. It’s
inevitable.
But we’ve also been talking. About anything and
everything. Eric has told me how much he loves music and
how that’s what he wants to do. I’ve told him the list of
places that I want to travel and that I want to be both a
novelist and a travel writer. Writing about places and times
in a unique way. I feel like I know everything about him now,
from his favorite color to his birthday and his favorite foods.
This summer has been way better than I ever hoped, and I
don’t want it to end. I consider myself lucky that he tackled
me that first day. If he hadn’t, maybe we would have gone
the whole summer without really talking. But now…well…
this is better.
“How was basketball?”
“Good. About to go swimming and wanted to see if you’d
join me.”
I make a face. “I have archery in a few minutes.”
“Cool. That’s okay. I have a plan.” He waggles his
eyebrows at me, trying to make me laugh.
And I do. “What’s your plan?”
“Sneak out and meet me.”
I roll my eyes. “I do that almost every night.”
 “True. But this time meet me at the waterfall. Or rather,
meet me at the lake and we’ll go to the waterfall together.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach
flip. “Why are we going there?” We’ve been back quite a bit,
sneaking past the closed o path to have privacy. But we’ve
never ventured out there in the dark. It somehow seems
vaguely alluring and dangerous.
“It’s a surprise.”
I stare at him, trying to figure it out, but he gives nothing
away. Just smiles like he has no other cares in the world.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He kisses me quickly again. “Shoot straight.”
“I’ll try.”
Nerves jump in my gut. Anticipation and curiosity and a
touch of anxiety. This seems di erent. I could be ready for
di erent. When it comes to Eric, I’m ready for it all. I’m
ready for everything. Not a huge chance that I’ll be able to
shoot straight now, not when I’ll be thinking about what he
has planned. But I’m going to try anyway.

I don’t know for sure what will happen when I leave my

cabin tonight, but I have a hope. And it’s that hope that
makes me put on the only set of matching underwear that I
brought to camp. I do what I’ve done every night I’ve snuck
out. Worn clothes under my robe and hide under the covers
until everyone is asleep, and then leave.
This time, I don’t quite make it out. “Where do you go
every night?” Lisa says quietly. She’s one of my roommates,
and a nice girl. I don’t think I have to worry about her
reporting me to the counsellors.
“Oh, you know,” I whisper. “I just like to look at the
stars.”
 There’s a snicker from the other bed in the room, and
Anna sits up. We’re the only three in here. Might as well stop
pretending. There are still people in the other rooms, and we
need to be quiet, but I relax. “Please,” Anna says. “She’s
going out to meet Eric.”
I swallow. “How do you know that?”
“You’re not subtle.” I can almost hear her roll her eyes.
“Are you going to stop me.”
Anna laughs again. “Girl, no. If I had an option here that
was that attractive, I’d be sneaking out too.”
I’m glad that it’s dark and that they can’t see me
blushing. “Thanks.”
“You have to tell us how it goes, though,” Lisa says.
“What?”
“You took about three times as long in the bathroom as
you normally do,” she says. “Something is obviously
happening.”
I push open the window and begin my climb out that I’ve
gotten very good at. “You guys pay way too much attention.”
“Good luck!” Anna whispers as I drop to the ground and
head toward the lake.
I wonder what Leena would say if she could see me now.
Our entire friendship I’ve been the goody-two-shoes. She
snuck out of our cabin plenty last summer but I never
wanted to go. If she knew just how much time I’d spent out
of my bed so far, she’d laugh her ass o .
The moon is nearly full, and the empty campground is
bright with the light, even as clouds pass over it now and
again. It’s bright o the surface of the lake, and I can see
Eric leaning against the trunk of the tree long before I get
there. He’s staring out over the water—I’ve never met
anyone who loves being around water as much as he does—
and he doesn’t notice me walking up.
“Boo,” I whisper, and he’s the one that jumps this time.
 “Geeze,” he says, recovering and immediately pressing
me back into the trunk of the tree and kissing me. “I guess I
deserved that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Ready to go?” he asks.
I weave my fingers in-between his and let him guide me
toward the waterfall path. “I’m ready, but I’m still not sure
what you’re up to.”
“No?” His voice pretends innocence I know that he
doesn’t have.
“I mean, I have a guess,” I say as he lifts the barrier tape
and we walk down the now familiar path.
He squeezes my hand. “Tell me.”
“Nope.”
“Come on, I want to know.”
I press my lips together and shake my head. “Not yet.
Later.”
He laughs. “Fine.”
When we come around the corner, all the breath I have
leaves my body. The moon is shining down on the waterfall
making it sparkle like diamonds in the night, and on top of
the giant rock is a blanket, a picnic basket, and a lantern.
Eric’s backpack is sitting there too. “Holy shit this is
beautiful,” I say.
“I hoped you would say that.”
He helps me up onto the rock, and I settle onto the
blanket. It’s never cold in Georgia in the summer, not even at
night. But the mist from the waterfall provides a welcome
coolness when the breeze pushes it far enough to hit my
skin.
“What did you bring us?”
He grins. “Just what I could raid as far as snacks from the
kitchen and a few from my parents’ cabin. Popcorn, some
chocolate. And…” he pulls an old-fashioned camping
thermos out of the picnic basket. “Hot chocolate.”
“Oh my god that’s perfect.” I don’t care that it’s warm, I
love hot chocolate. Eric knows that too. It’s one of the things
that I told him—that one of my favorite things to do in the
wintertime is snuggle up with hot chocolate and a book while
watching the snow fall. If we’re lucky enough to get snow.
“Thank you,” I say, leaning in to kiss him.
“You’re welcome.” In the dim light of the lantern I think
that I can see him blushing.
“So why did you bring me here?”
He grins. “The picnic.”
My heart starts to pound, and my stomach does that flip
of nervous anticipation. “Is that the only reason?”
Eric is definitely blushing now. “I’m not expecting
anything from you, Seph.”
I move a little closer. “I’m glad.”
“But?”
“But,” I whisper, “I would be okay if there was another
reason.”
I watch him swallow. “Only if you’re ready.”
“More than ready.”
Just like our kiss a few weeks ago, this would be a first for
both of us. And maybe it is soon, but we’ve spent every day
together. It’s how camp works. You get to know people hard
and fast and what counts as a day at camp might as well be a
week in the normal world.
I take a sip of the hot chocolate, and it’s delicious. Thick
and gorgeous and rich. “I’m going to have to have you make
hot chocolate for me more often,” I say.
“Secret family recipe.”
“Is that recipe a packet?” I ask, smiling.
He laughs, reaching for his backpack. “It’s actually not.”
 “You’re telling me you actually snuck into the kitchen
and made hot chocolate from scratch?”
“There are benefits to being friends with the kitchen
sta .” He takes the thermos from me and takes a sip of his
own. He looks down, not meeting my eyes, and then grabs
my hand. “I don’t know how to do this.”
I laugh. “I mean, neither do I. We’ll figure it out.” From
his backpack, he pulls out another blanket. “You came
prepared.”
When he meets my eyes this time, he’s dead serious. “I’m
very prepared. Because I wasn’t joking, I wasn’t expecting
anything. But like hell was I going to get you out here and
not have everything we needed.”
That’s true. “That would have been disappointing.”
He screws the cap on the thermos and puts it back in the
basket, and then puts the basket out of the way near his
backpack. And then he scoots closer. I’m so nervous, but I’m
ready. I don’t have any hesitation as he leans in to kiss me.
This kiss starts the way that they always do, soft and
sweet and slow. But already it feels di erent, because we
both know that we don’t have to stop. I lean back on the
blanket, and he follows, kissing me harder. There it is, that
heat that appears out of nothing, suddenly consuming me
and making me kiss him harder, wrap my arms around his
shoulders and pull him closer.
“If you need to stop,” he says, pulling back, “tell me to
stop.”
“I will.” I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my
head, placing it beside me so that I’m in my bra. This isn’t
anything that he hasn’t seen before. I’ve been in my bikini
with him, and our roaming hands have made sure that he’s
touched every inch of me through my clothing. But this will
be new.
 I take o my bra quickly, and settle back down on the
blanket, blushing. I have the urge to cover myself, but I
don’t. This is Eric. I want this. I want him to see me. He’s
looking down at me with awe. He swallows again. “Can I
touch you?”
Reaching for his hand, I bring it to my skin, directly on
my breast, and I close my eyes because it feels like so much
and not nearly enough. Eric is gentle, but eager. My nipples
harden under his fingers, and I want to feel more than that.
“I—” I stop, not knowing how to ask the question I’m about
to ask.
His head whips back. “Is that okay.”
I laugh, breaking the tension. “Yes. I just—” I swallow. “I
don’t know how to ask.”
“Ask me anything, Persephone.” He never uses my full
name, and the way he says it now hits home. This is
di erent. “I want to know what you feel and how to make
you feel good. And I want you to explore me if that’s what
you want. Nothing is o the table right now.”
I blow out a breath. He’s right. We know so much about
each other. This is just one more thing to know. We have a
chance to learn about this together. There can’t be any
mistakes since neither of us have a clue about what we’re
doing. I take a breath before I meet his eyes. “I want your
mouth on me. On them.”
Eric smiles a slow smile. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I can do that.” He moves his hands across my skin
again, and my nipples are harder than ever now, tingling
when he touches them. And when he leans down and touches
one nipple with his tongue, I gasp in a breath. It’s everything
I thought that it would feel like and so much more. The
sensations from his mouth sink through my skin and lower
down, rolling into a need that I can’t explain and can’t
shake.
And that was before he flicked his tongue, and I’m
arching into him. “Fuck,” I say, though it’s more breath
than an actual word. Eric moves to my other nipple, teasing
it in the exactly same way, and I realize that I’m wet.
Between my legs I’m soaking as if I were touching myself,
and we’ve barely gotten to the good part.
I pull Eric’s face back up to mine and kiss the hell out of
him. I think that I might be falling in love with him. Is that
crazy? A little bit. Is it true? Also yes. Finding the hem of his
shirt I pull it up and over because I want to feel his skin on
mine. Eric’s body is beautiful—what I’ve seen of it and what
I’ve touched of it.
He helps me get rid of the shirt, and skin to skin like this I
can’t stop smiling. “Good?”
“Amazing.”
He kisses me hard before pulling back a bit. Fingers tuck
into the waistband of my jeans and flick open the button. I
lift my hips, letting him pull down my jeans all the way so
I’m left in nothing but my panties, which are so small they
might as well be nothing. Naked. I’m going to be naked with
Eric.
He stops after removing my pants, staring down at me in
a way I’ve never seen. Hungry and awed. I’m the one who
pushes my panties down my thighs, and he helps me get
them all the way o .
“Seph,” he says softly. His fingers drift down my hips and
low across my stomach. Desire curls under my skin where
his hand rests, and I catch his wrist, moving his fingers
between my legs, and he grins when he feels the wetness and
heat.
“Touch me.”
 He does. Exploring slowly. Dragging his thumb over my
clit and exploring my entrance. I gasp when the tip of his
finger slips inside, because touching yourself and being
touched by someone else couldn’t be more di erent.
Eric watches me carefully, and he notices when he
touches my clit how I move with him, and keeps going. He
experiments, moving his fingers in di erent ways until I
moan when his thumb moves in a circle. “Tell me what you
feel,” he says.
“More. Harder.”
He does, and I start to shake. I’m so turned on that I
might actually come. It takes me way longer alone, but this is
Eric touching me, and that fact has me ready to let go. “I’m
close,” I tell him. “Please don’t stop.”
“Not on your life,” he says, keeping his fingers moving
exactly the way they are. It’s like a spark arcing between two
connection points. One moment I’m deep in pleasure and the
next that pleasure is roaring. A bright orgasm that hits me
fast and makes me gasp. “Ohhhhh,” it’s the only sound I
know how to make, and I’m even wetter now than I was
when he started.
I look up at him, and he’s staring down at me. While I’m
watching he lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them. He
groans and closes his eyes like he’s just eaten a good desert,
and I shudder with renewed need. Watching him do that—
taste me—is more powerful than I ever could have imagined.
“You taste fucking good,” he says. I swear his voice has
dropped lower, and now I’m blushing. “And I loved watching
that.”
“I want to see you,” I say.
Eric understands what I mean, because he stands up,
quickly stripping o his jeans, and then his boxers, and he’s
naked in front of me. And he’s gorgeous. The same lean
physique that I’ve seen when we’ve been swimming flows
down his legs into muscular things, and him. He’s hard and
long and this is very, very real.
“Can I touch you?” I reach out for him, and his breath
catches when I touch his heated skin. It’s a strange sensation
for something to be so hard and so soft at once. It jumps
when I run my fingers down the side, and Eric’s eyes are
dark, completely focused on me.
He has a condom—because he was prepared—and I watch
in fascination as he rolls it on. It makes him look larger. He
doesn’t seem small to me, not that I have any experience.
Lying down together, Eric kisses me again, slowly moving
us so that he’s between my legs, and he’s pressing against
me, guiding himself to my entrance. “I don’t want to hurt
you,” he says.
“Go slow.”
He fits himself where he needs to be, and that first press
of him makes me close my eyes. It’s so strange and so good.
Already I feel full, but I know that this is just the beginning.
Eric does move slowly, easing deeper with his hips a fraction
at a time.
There is some pain, sharp and brief, and I gasp. But I grab
Eric’s arms and tell him to keep going. It feels good and
uncomfortable and new. I don’t want him to stop. And he
doesn’t, until he’s deep inside me. Deeper than I thought
he’d be able to go.
“God, Persephone,” he says when he’s all the way inside
me, leaning down so our faces are close. “You feel amazing.”
“So do you.”
Suddenly I’m fighting tears, and I blink them away. I
never thought I would be the girl that cries during sex. But
it’s not the sex that’s doing it. It’s us. The closeness we have.
I can scarcely breathe. As long as I live, I don’t know that I’ll
ever feel this again. We’ve bared our souls to each other, and
I know that I’ll never be the same.
 “Are you okay?”
I nod. My body is easing. Getting used to the feeling of
him. It’s an instinct when I squeeze down on him, and he
moans. “Do that again.” I do, and he curses. “That feels…
fuck.”
Eric moves his hips, and it’s my turn to moan. It’s time.
We both feel it. He starts to move, slowly. “Okay?”
“Yes,” I say. “Please.”
A little harder, and there’s a slight edge of pain that’s
overridden by the pleasure I’m feeling. I’ve already come so
my body is ready to do it again. A breeze blows mist onto us
from the waterfall and I shiver.
It feels good. Di erent than I had imagined.
Eric braces his arms beside me, moving inside me, eyes
closed. He’s moving with slow precision, steadily building.
Reaching out, I place my hands on either side of his face. He
opens his eyes with a start. “You’re holding back.”
“I won’t last if I go any faster.”
I smile, because he’s being sweet. But I want him to feel
what I felt. That sweet pleasure and release because of
another person. “I don’t care,” I say. “I want you to feel
good too.”
He stops holding back, thrusting with erratic power, and I
hold on to him, letting him take. It still feels amazing,
having him this deep. The echoes of pleasure are ringing
around in my body and I let myself sink into the sensation of
his movement and delicious release.
Eric groans, driving into me one final time, and I feel him
move inside me as he comes. He nearly collapses on top of
me, and he’s breathing hard. Lips find my cheek, pressing.
“Are you okay.”
“I’m great,” I whisper.
“I don’t want to move,” he says quietly.
 I shake my head. “Don’t.” There’s something about this
—resting with him on me, still inside me. It’s like a moment
that was meant to be.
I’m tumbling down into feelings that are far deeper than I
should. And I don’t care. Let me fall. Hard, fast, and forever,
if that’s what it takes.
Eric pulls back his face so I can see him, and I see the
same thoughts running through his eyes. “Seph…”
“I know,” I say. “Just don’t move. Stay here. For a little
while longer.”
“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” he says, and I don’t
think that he’s talking about the way we’re lying together.
He manages to pull the second blanket over us, and we rest,
tangled together. Lips and limbs and everything else.
12
 ERIC
SIX YEARS AGO

“I want you to come swimming with me,” I say to Seph,

flopping down beside her on the grass. It’s a rare moment
when she’s not writing. She’s relaxing looking up at the sky.
With the sunglasses that she has on you might think that
she’s asleep, but I know better.
A small smile crosses her face. “Okay. Any particular
reason?”
“Other than swimming? You’ll see.”
She glances at me and raises an eyebrow, but I give
nothing away. Ever since the other night, the only thing
that’s been on my mind is her. Touching her. Feeling her.
Being inside her again. I’m like a man possessed. But even
more than that, I feel like a man. Having Seph with me
makes me feel like I’ve never felt before, and I like it.
We did manage to have sex one more time, but neither of
us have been able to sneak away the way we’ve wanted to in
the past few days. But that night…
I’ll never forget that night as long as I live. Watching Seph
come apart underneath me like that, what I did that with my
fingers…it blows me away and I want more.
I’ve never felt anything like the sweet, pure heaven that
was sex with her. And it’s only going to get better. I know
that. If not because everyone says that your first time isn’t
the best, then because I know both of us want to learn. And
there’s more of her that I want to learn right now.
Plus, I really like seeing her blush.
“You’re already in your suit, aren’t you?” It’s not a
question.
She giggles. “Yes. You want to swim every day. I doubted
that it would change today.” Sitting up, she peels o her
shirt revealing her bikini top, and I’m not sure which is
sexier—Seph in the tiny green bikini or Seph completely
naked. Both make me want to take her hand and run into the
woods until we find a place to be alone.
I take o my shirt and toss it on her blanket. I’m already
in my trunks and I need to get into the water to hide the fact
that I’m about to be hard as the rock we had sex on.
I’m halfway into the water by the time Seph stands and
takes o her shorts. She tosses her sunglasses on the blanket
and saunters across the shore, well aware that I’m watching
her.
“Get in here,” I say.
She smirks. “I’m on my way.”
Stopping in the shallows, I swear that she’s going to drive
me crazy.
“It’s cold, give me a second.”
There are other people in the lake, but no one super close
to us. “I could warm you up.”
Seph laughs. “I’m sure you could.”
“That’s actually the plan.”
“What?” She stares at me. “How are you planning to do
that here?”
“Get your ass in the water and I’ll show you,” I say with a
smirk.
She makes a face, but she’s half smiling too so her face is
just all scrunched up. Slowly she inches closer to me until
she’s hip deep right in front of me. “It’s not that cold.”
She looks away. “I know.”
I want to reach out and touch her, but I’m aware that
there are a lot of eyes on us. It wouldn’t really be a bad thing
if people knew we were together. But dating and sex isn’t the
point of this camp—my parents made that abundantly clear
—so being public with touching would only make people
watch us more closely. We both like our freedom.
“Are you okay?”
She sighs and bites her lip. “The water makes me
nervous. Since it’s not…clear. You know? It makes me think
about all the things that could be about to grab my foot.”
I smile, but then I think about the times that she’s been in
the water with me. But that’s just it. She’s only been in the
water with me. When we played chicken and a dozen times
since. She’s never said no to going in the water, but within
reaching distance of me. I never really thought about it and I
obviously never minded. But it never occurred to me that she
might be nervous.
“I actually felt the same when I first came to camp after
my parents bought the place,” I tell her and grab her hand
under the water. “But I’ll tell you a secret about the lake that
might help.”
“Oh?”
“There’s nothing in the lake,” I tell her. “No fish. Only
the natural plants, and the birds that land on it.”
Her whole body sags in relief. “That does make it better.”
“As a bonus,” I say, “where we’re going the water is just
a little clearer.”
“Where are we going?”
“First to the island.”
Her eyes go wide, but she nods. We swim together,
matching stroke for stroke. It’s not a short swim, but not too
di cult. There’s not a whole lot of people out here right
now, which works well for my plan. We rest on the shore for
a minute before she rolls over. “Okay, we’re here.”
“Come on.”
There’s a small dock on the back of the island. Before this
was a campground there were fish in the lake. And the
previous owner liked to fish from the center of the lake. It’s a
little shallower than the dock on the other shore, and the
water is a touch clearer. But I’m using it for the fact that it’s
fairly hidden from view.
I wade into the water again and pull her under the dock
with me. Sun streams through the water around us,
illuminating us and causing a gorgeous glow on our legs.
Now that we’re not in a line of sight, I touch her, wrapping
my arm around her waist and pressing her against one of the
pilings. She laughs softly. “Did you bring me all the way out
here to make out?”
I smirk. “Maybe. Close your eyes.” I actually have another
plan, but I’m not telling her what it is. Not yet. She closes
her eyes, and I sink quietly below the water. Since this is
fresh lake water it’s easy to open my eyes. Which makes it
even easier to find that space between her legs, move aside
her bathing suit aside and seal my mouth over her. She
jumps, but doesn’t pull away.
I’ve wanted to do this for days. Because I’ve never done it.
And because I want to learn how to make her feel good. And
because I desperately want to know how she tastes. Now I
have my answer. And my body is roaring in response. Hell
yes.
Seph tastes deep and sweet, and addictive. Holy shit. This
isn’t what I imagined—I don’t even know what I imagined—
but it’s better. Even underwater I feel her go slick under my
tongue, and I lick her slowly. Exploring from her entrance up
to the top. I’ve gotten more familiar with her, but feeling her
under my mouth is so hot.
 I’m hard, and I reach down into my trunks to grab myself,
teasing. Surfacing to breathe, Seph is looking at me like I’m
crazy and like she wants to devour me all at once. “What on
earth are you doing?”
“I thought that was kind of obvious.”
Seph licks her bottom lip, an unconscious reaction. “What
if someone sees?”
Standing up more fully, I show her briefly how hard I am.
“At the moment, I don’t really care if anyone sees.” I lean
closer. “And you taste really fucking good.”
“Really?” She blushes. “I thought…everyone says that
guys don’t like doing that.”
“Maybe that’s true for some guys,” I say. “But it’s all I’ve
been able to think about. I like it.” Grabbing her hand, I pull
her deeper under the dock where the water is shallow and we
can be in the shadows. “And I’d like to do it without holding
my breath so I can hear you.”
“If you’re sure.”
By way of answer I help her lay down on the sand and
press her legs apart. Fuck, she tastes even better out of the
water. Guys who don’t like doing this are crazy. I can think
of some reasons why they would say they didn’t, and they’re
all utter bullshit. This is so fucking hot. Especially those little
breathy moans that she’s making, trying to keep quiet so
that no one in the surrounding water hears us.
I love listening to her. Especially when the way she moves
and the little sounds she makes draw me a map for what she
likes. Her hips arch into me when I lick her clit—the magic
button that people say is hard to find. It’s only hard to find if
you’re blind or you don’t care. And when I lick lower, she
shakes and gasps. Much like the way she does when I’m
actually inside her.
When I seal my mouth over her and create suction, Seph
claps her hands over her mouth to keep herself quiet, and
when I add my tongue to that equation, she does all of those
things. So I keep doing that.
Sucking and licking until she’s gasping and her hands are
in my hair. “Don’t stop,” she whispers. “Exactly that.” I do
it, keeping the pattern of my tongue circling the way I’ve
been doing it, and her breath goes faster.
I taste it when she comes. Seph gets wetter, her flavor
sharper and more abundant and I lap it up from her
entrance, covering her with my tongue and enjoying the
feeling of her shaking. Quivering with aftershocks. I wonder
if I could just not stop and make her come again. It’s an
addicting feeling this. Powerful and perfect.
“Eric,” she gasps, pulling me up from her legs and
towards her face. “I can’t.”
“I could make you come again.”
She grins even though she’s panting. “I know you could.
But if you do, I’m going to scream. I won’t be able to keep
quiet.”
“That’s tempting,” I tell her.
“Noooooo,” she groans but she’s laughing. “Later.”
I grin. “So you liked it?” The look she gives me makes me
break out into laughter.
“Yes, I did. Feel free to do that any time.” I sink down her
body and she giggles. “Not now. I’m so sensitive that
everyone on the lake will hear me.”
“I might like that.”
She blushes bright red. “I wouldn’t.”
“Which is why my mouth is not on you again right this
second. I love the way you taste. Better even than when it
was on my fingers. From the source.”
“When you say it like that it’s not sexy,” she laughs,
scrunching up her nose. I would never do anything that she
didn’t want me to, but I still can’t ignore the fact that I want
everyone to know how good I made her feel. That my
girlfriend loves the way I fuck her, even if it’s just with my
tongue. I want to shout it from the goddamn rooftops. Or in
this case, all the way across the lake.
I notice the way we’re lined up that I’m pressing against
her, no way that she can’t feel it. I move my hips, and Seph’s
eyes flare. “What about this? Now I can keep your mouth
occupied.”
She moans when I kiss her, hands landing on my
shoulders. But she doesn’t push me away. Instead her fingers
dig into my skin and she kisses me back.
This is something I made fun of. Too young. Not enough.
Not sexy. But the way it feels to press against her heat
separated by almost nothing…really fucking hot. I rock
against her. Harder. Faster. I’m lost in all of it.
I don’t try to last. Lightning races up my spine and
pleasure blasts through me so quickly that I go blind. And I
keep grinding into her, lengthening the feeling and feeling
her shake. The little cry in my mouth and her chest arching
into me—she came again. Pride and satisfaction rise up in
me. Perfect.
This is perfect.
“I never would have done anything like this last year, you
know. I’m not a very daring person.”
“What changed.”
Seph bites her lip, swollen from our kissing. “You.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You make me want to do everything.”
The space around us spins towards something more
serious. “This doesn’t have to end, Seph.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
She laughs harshly. “We don’t live anywhere near each
other. You want to be with someone that you’ll never get to
see?”
 I shake my head. “It’s a couple of hours and I have a
driver’s license. Plus, phones exist.” Dread pools in my
stomach. “Unless that’s not what you want.”
“I didn’t say that,” she says quickly. “It just makes me
nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s camp. Everything feels so real while you’re
here, and then like a dream for the rest of the year. Even
though I—” She cuts o and swallows. “I don’t want you to
forget about me.”
“There’s no chance of that. None.”
She smiles, but it’s a little sad. “Good. But let’s talk about
this a little closer to the end. We’ve still got a month to go.”
“True.” In the distance the bell that signals dinner rings.
“Race you back?”
Seph grins, the smile brilliant. “Bet your ass.”
13
 ERIC
PRESENT

The last few days have been interesting to say the least.
Things have been busy, and the most that I’ve been able to
do with Seph as far as intimate things go has been a stolen
kiss here and there. The beast inside me that craves to take
her over and over again is barely contained on a leash. And
that leash is my hand every time I have a private moment.
Also the brutal workouts that I put myself through every
morning.
I’m pushing myself as far as I can go with the equipment
that I have, including going for runs before dawn that leave
me panting. But I need an outlet, and I know that every time
I’m working out I’m contributing to the way she looks at me
like she wants to wash me with her tongue. I will happily let
her.
I’ve had vivid fantasies of Seph on her knees worshipping
my cock with those gorgeous lips. And just as many about
making her moan again with my tongue. My mind is a sex-
drenched paradise, and I don’t know if I can go much longer
without taking her again.
But in the absence of sex, we’ve been reconnecting in
other ways. Spending some free time together. Sitting near
enough to speak at meals. Learning what we both have done
in the couple of years that we haven’t spoken. While at the
same time avoiding the subject that neither of us wants to
talk about.
But I’m thinking that we might be there. Perhaps tonight
after the bonfire we’ll be able to talk about it. We’ve talked
enough about small things that I feel okay about finally
asking her what happened. I don’t want to make the same
mistakes.
If we’re going to give this a proper second chance, I want
it to be a real second chance. They say that you never forget
your first love, and Seph was that for me. Wholly and
completely.
Lunch has just finished, and Seph gives me a scorching
look as I walk out of the dining hall. The fact that we keep
getting pulled apart by responsibility and things coming up
is frustrating, but it’s also building the tension. Maybe
there’s something else we can do after we talk. If Seph will
want to. I’m not sure how the conversation is going to go.
But something needs to happen. Because it’s gotten to the
point where I go semi-hard just looking at her, and fisting
my cock in the shower isn’t enough. Or when I fall into bed
at night and I feel like I can still smell her on my sheets. Or
when I wake up and I’m hard after dreaming about her.
Something’s gotta give or I’m pretty sure that I’m going
to go mad.
Next on my list of tasks is the end of week camp
announcements. There’s a little shack on the edge of the
camp that connects to the ancient PA system. It’s creaky and
squeaky and everything you would expect from a camp
communication system. The tiny building is run down and
looks like a drive-through security building or a toll booth.
Windows on four sides and paneling on the bottom half. Just
enough to house the soundboard and shelter it from the
elements.
 One more thing on the long list of things that really need
to be repaired. One more thing that the camp can’t a ord to
do anything about it. I step inside and pick up the receiver—
which makes me feel like an old school safari guide—and flip
it on.
There’s a little bit of feedback before I start to talk, and
then I start. “Hey Red Rock, I hope you’ve enjoyed your first
week at camp. Tomorrow our sta will be making runs into
town for supplies so if you have mail to go out or special
requests—within reason—today is the day for those things.”
I startle when I hear the door open behind me, and I turn
to find Seph stepping into the booth with me. I smile at her
and she grins. I’m still paused, seeing if she needs me, but
she gestures for me to continue.
“And of course, many of our repeat campers know that
tonight is the first bonfire.”
Seph sinks down onto her knees in front of me, hands
going to my belt, and my stomach drops with lust. It’s like
an image jumped out of one of my fantasies and came to life.
I should not have started speaking into the mic because holy
shit. She doesn’t hesitate, pulling my cock out of my pants
and wrapping her lips around it. Just like on Monday, I go
straight to fucking heaven. And I have to keep talking,
because I’m in the middle of the broadcast.
What the fuck is she doing?
“The bonfire is not mandatory, but we encourage
everyone to come.” Fuck, I don’t want to think about the
word ‘come’ right now. Not when Seph is sinking down my
shaft like it’s the only thing that she ever wants to taste.
“It’s a long-standing camp tradition, there will be stories
and s’mores and it’s generally a good time. Of course, if you
ever have any questions or need anything, my door is open.
Thanks.”
 I slam the broadcast o and drop the receiver, and gape
down at Seph, who’s grinning. Which is an impressive feat
given the fact that her mouth is full of me. “Seph, what the
fuck?”
She strokes my cock as she pulls back to speak. “I was
tired of waiting, and you were alone. Besides, nearly being
caught is kind of our specialty, isn’t it?”
That’s not a wrong statement. Especially given the first
time that she ever gave me a blow job that summer we came
so close to being discovered that my heart rate didn’t settle
for an hour. And I still remember every second of that.
Something tells me that I’m going to remember every
second of this too.
“Besides,” she says, “I told you. I want this. I want all of
you. I want to taste you again too.”
“Jesus.”
Seph doesn’t wait before taking me in her mouth again,
and she drives her mouth down onto me, as far as she can
take me. My cock is hitting the back of her mouth and her
lips are stretched around me. It’s hot as fuck, and my knees
are weak. I lean back against the wall in the small space for
support, and she follows.
If anyone comes to look for me, they’re about to get an
eyeful. Because this little shack is all windows, and even
though Seph is below them, one look down and everything is
on display.
Sucking me hard, Seph pulls her head back and drives
forward again, setting up a smooth rhythm with her suction.
God, it’s so fucking hot that I can’t breathe.
Her tongue teases the underside of my cock, and I groan
loudly. “You’re so fucking good at this.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, and my cock jerks in her mouth.
I want to take a picture of her like that. Speared and stu ed
on my shaft. “Can I take a picture of you? Just like that.”
 She nods, and I grab my phone from my pocket, snapping
a picture of her, eyes closed, mouth full of cock. If it weren’t
an entirely stupid idea, I would have that photo as my lock
screen. But I’m not sharing that picture with anyone. That’s
just for me. For later, when I’m reliving watching her take
my cock deep and sucking. And drinking me dry and loving
every fucking second. I’m never going to look at her lips the
same again, having seen them stretched like that.
Seph moves, taking me deeper, and with one clever move
I’m suddenly in her throat. “Oh fuck.” The head of my cock
is being squeezed by her and she swallows, making me blind
and deaf and dumb entirely. And still she keeps going,
sinking down until her lips are near the base of my shaft and
I’m in utter awe at the amount of me that she’s taken.
I grab her hair, desperate to hold on to something. She
leans into my hand ever so slightly, and then pulls back,
releasing me entirely. “Seph, holy fuck.”
She’s panting. Chest heaving, and lips shining. “Don’t
hold back,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“You already know. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
Whatever blood I have left in my body floods my dick, and
I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life. So hard that it’s
almost painful. And Seph doesn’t give me any chance to
breathe, swallowing me down again, impossibly all the way
to the hilt. My hand is still resting in her hair, and I weave
my fingers through it, gripping harder.
Don’t hold back.
God, I think I might be in love with her again. Maybe I
never stopped being in love with her. And maybe now is a
weird time for that realization. But as Seph herself said all
those years ago, time moves di erently at camp.
I let that part of myself that I push down come clawing
out. That feral part of me that wants to pin her down and
fuck her till she’s screaming my name for the world to hear.
The part that wants to control and drive my cock into her
mouth as hard as I can until I go over the edge. The part that
she’s asked me to set loose.
I don’t hold back.
Gripping harder, I thrust my hips forward. I’m already so
deep that there’s not that far to go. Instead her throat hugs
my cock tight, and I groan. I add my other hand, and push
into her throat again. And again. Harder.
I’m fucking her throat, and it feels so brutally good that I
never want it to end. Seph taps my leg, and I release her,
watching her pant for breath. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes are glazed with lust and pleasure, and she gives
me a sensual smile. “I’m more than fine.” She takes my cock
again in one smooth motion, sealing her lips around the base
of it. Her nose is pressed against my stomach and I cannot
believe that she’s doing this. My cock is not small, and even
though I’ve never been one of those men to brag about size, I
know I’m big.
Releasing one of my hands from her hair, I curl it under
her throat so I can feel myself buried there. It’s full and
straining, and I’m so close. But I am holding back in one
way. I don’t want to come yet.
I keep my hand on her throat, push in and pull back. Push
in and pull back. The pleasure rising through me isn’t going
to let me stop or rest until I finish. It’s too much. Too close.
Releasing her, I allow her one more breath, watching her
pant. The wetness from my cock dripping down her lips. But
that’s the last breath. She’ll take me till I’m finished now.
And she better drink every drop.
She’s not ready when I push between her lips again and
all the way down to the hilt. Her eyes lock on mine, clear and
drowning with lust. The perfect image of desire and
temptation. To take exactly what I need with no restraint.
 Fisting my hand in her hair, I let myself go. I fuck her
throat hard and fast, pleasure roaring up through my body
like a train until I can’t hold back anymore. It’s like fire.
Burning and cleansing and I yell. It’s loud in the shack but I
don’t regret it for one second.
I come in waves, pouring it down her throat while I hold
myself deep. So much tension this week, and it’s all come to
this. One perfect orgasm, and I curse out loud while inside
I’m thanking the fucking universe.
Pulling back, Seph hauls in a breath looking up at me and
smiles before swallowing everything that is left. I’m still
leaning against the wall. Spent and panting and completely
dazed. “Fuck.”
She laughs. “It needed to happen, Eric. I wasn’t about to
spend the entire bonfire staring at you over the flames
wanting to jump you in front of all the campers.”
“If you think that this isn’t going to make me want to do
that more…” My voice is low and rough. “You’re wrong.”
She smirks. “Guess you’ll just have to su er.”
Reaching out, I pull her to me and reverse our positions.
“If I’m going to su er, you’re going to su er with me.”
Her breath goes short as I press my body against hers.
Shit. And the look in her gaze is pure fire. “Do your worst.”
“Is that a dare?”
Seph smirks. “That’s a good camp game, right?”
I like Seph like this. Bold and brash and unapologetic. It’s
dangerous. “I don’t have time to do my worst, but I can do
enough.” I lift my fingers to her mouth. “Suck them.”
She meets my eyes while she does, thoroughly stroking
my fingers with her tongue, and when they’re wet, I slip my
hand down her shorts, finding her pussy already soaking
wet. She told me not to hold back, and I don’t. I drive my
fingers into her finding that rough spot inside her that I
know will make her squirm in pleasure while dragging my
thumb across her clit. She took my cock perfectly, and I’m
going to reward her. To a point. Just enough to make her
want more of me. And that same cock.
Seph’s pussy is hot and tight, and she’s so turned on that
it only takes seconds to wipe the cocky look o her face and
replace it with desperate need. She clings to my arm like she
might pull away, but I keep going. Watching her breasts rise
and fall with her gasping and the way she bites her lip. The
way she leans her head back against the window, riding my
hand. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes.”
And that’s when I pull back. Just as she’s on the edge. “Oh
fuck,” she says, looking at me and suddenly realizing exactly
how I intend to make her su er. That I’m going to leave her
hanging and in agony for the hours until we can be alone
again. Because I can. Because I want to. Because I love
knowing she’s going to be thinking about me and exactly
what I can do to her.
“You told me to do my worst,” I say with a smirk.
“I did say that.” Seph closes her eyes, catching her
breath. “Shit.”
“Guess we’ll both be su ering,” I say.
She sighs. “Guess so.”
This friction between us, the edge that’s pushing us
further. I like it and I don’t. We’re lashing out, daring each
another to do our worst, and it’s not because we’re horny.
But because there are things that we’re not saying to each
other.
I catch Seph’s arm as she’s brushing by, and I see it in her
eyes too. We’re dancing around everything. “This isn’t
over,” I promise her. Both the sex and everything more.
She looks past me. “No, it’s not.”
14
 PERSEPHONE
SIX YEARS AGO

I’m getting sleepy. The bonfire always does that to me.

We’ve been sitting here for hours with music and laughter
and s’mores, and it’s getting late now. Normal camp curfew
doesn’t count on bonfire nights, and everything is more
relaxed.
It’s that reason that I’m currently sitting between Eric’s
legs, drowsily staring into the flames. I lean my head to one
side on his knee and close my eyes, leaning into him and
enjoying the way he strokes my hair and neck.
We’ve gotten a lot more careless with showing people
that we’re together. But it’s a pleasant surprise that no one
seems to really care. Eric’s friends have been really sweet
and welcoming, and there’s even been a few times when he’s
referred to me as his girlfriend. I like that more than I want
to admit.
The counselors don’t seem particularly concerned either.
We haven’t gone as far as to start making out in front of
them—or his parents—but we hold hands now. And I love
the simplicity of that.
I love a lot of things about this and about him. I almost let
it slip a few weeks ago under the dock. I’m in love with Eric
Elmore. It’s an impossibly large feeling, and I don’t know
what to do with it. I’ve never been in love before.
But what happens now? None of the issues of taking this
beyond the summer have disappeared. We live two hours
apart. We’ll never be able to see each other. And as much as
I’d like to believe we could make that work, it doesn’t seem
likely.
Across the fire, I see Eric’s parents. His mom makes eye
contact with me and smiles after looking between Eric and
me. At least there’s that. She doesn’t wholly hate me for her
dating son, even though he hasn’t o cially introduced to
her to me as his mother. He holds that information pretty
tightly to his chest.
“Sleepy?” he asks, leaning close to my ear.
“Yeah.”
“Can I walk you back to your cabin?”
I can’t keep the smile o my face. “Yeah.”
Eric helps me up and leads me away from the fire into the
darkness. There are still enough people around the fire that
us walking away doesn’t draw a lot of attention. But that
cozy, sleepy, feeling doesn’t leave me as I walk.
Eric has his arm slung around my shoulder, and he pulls
me in so I can lean my head on his shoulder. I’m not sure
why I’m so tired, but I could nearly fall asleep standing up.
Almost to my cabin, we cross the spot where Eric tackled me.
“I like that spot,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Even though I almost broke your nose?”
I smile even though he can’t see it. “Almost would be the
key phrase there.”
“I like that spot too. But this spot works,” he says,
leaning me up against the wall of the cabin by the door.
“You’re playing with fire.”
 “Yes, I am. I just left a bonfire after all.”
He kisses me gently, and I let him. “Your mom smiled at
us.”
“I think she likes you.”
“How could she know? I think we’ve only spoken a couple
of times.”
Eric chuckles softly. “She’s a good judge of character. And
I think she’s figured it out.”
“She has definitely figured it out.”
He laughs again. “Before we leave, we’ll talk to them
together.”
“About what?”
“About anything you want.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and just hold him. This
feels so nice. Just simple touches and connection. “I wish we
could sleep together,” I say, my voice mu ed by his shirt.
“We’ve slept together.”
I shake my head. “You know what I mean. Just to sleep. I
like being close to you.”
Eric looks at me. “I could find a way.”
“A way that doesn’t involve sleeping on the ground
outside?”
He chuckles, running his hands down my ribs. “Maybe
not. But maybe. By the way, I’ve been working on
something.”
“On what?”
“A song.”
My heart kicks up into a faster rhythm. “A new one?”
He nods. “I wrote it after the night at the waterfall. It’s
for you.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Do I get to hear it?”
“If you want.” Eric seems a little breathless, and I realize
that he’s nervous.
 “If?” I pull him into a kiss. “Of course I want to hear it.
No one’s ever written me a song before.”
He shrugs. “I don’t think that it’s very good.”
“And I’m sure that it’s brilliant.”
I see the shadow of his smile in the dark. “Thank you.”
“So, when do I get to hear this magical melody?”
“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”
I think. “There was a crafting class, but trust me when I
say that I would much rather be with you.”
“Then meet me at the waterfall at four. I’ll play it for
you.”
“I can’t wait,” I say. “I really can’t.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“And don’t beat yourself down,” I say, poking him in the
chest.
“Fair enough,” he says. “I deserved that.”
But then he’s kissing me again and nothing matters in the
world but the soft feel of his lips. “I should go,” he says.
“The others might be coming soon.”
“Okay.”
One final kiss, and he leaves. I miss him already. I love
you, I think into the darkness, listening to the soft sounds of
his retreating footsteps.
At Red Rock you’re not supposed to use your cell phone.
The service is spotty anyway, but we keep them for
emergencies. But I can’t resist this time. I dig my cellphone
out of my suitcase and turn it on.
Leena is still in Europe so there’s no way that she’s going
to answer, but I have to tell someone about this feeling so I
don’t go crazy.
So, I type. I met a guy. At camp. And I think that I’m falling for
him hard. I’m not sure what to do about it.
To my shock, Leena types back right away.

OMG!!! WHAT? Who is he? Do I know him? TELL ME

EVERYTHING.

I stifle the laugh that comes out of me, so I don’t wake the
few people who are already sleeping in the cabin. No, you
don’t know him.

What’s his name? Maybe I do.

I blush in the darkness. No names yet. It makes it too real.

Okay but seriously Persephone. I’m going to need you to tell me

absolutely everything else right now.

I know she’s serious when she calls me by my full name. And

the whole reason for texting her in the first place was to tell
her. So I tell her everything.
Almost everything.
15
 PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

Bonfires were always my favorite part of camp. At least the

parts that weren’t hanging out with Leena and Eric. There’s
always a beautiful camaraderie with plenty of chocolate and
marshmallows to go around.
As I help prepare for the bonfire—unwrapping a truly
absurd amount of chocolate bars—my mind drifts to a
specific bonfire that I spent with Eric.
And now we’re here again.
I followed him to the broadcast shack on instinct. Needing
to feel him and tease him and prod him. But I’ not sure that
was the real reason I did it. I want to fuck him and the
tension between us is stretched tighter than a trip wire. And
everything that happened in that shack was so unbelievably
hot that I’m going to remember it for a long time. No doubt
resurfacing when I’m alone and can act more e ectively on
that memory.
But I got a text message today from Leena. Completely
innocent, but it was asking how I was faring in our old
stomping grounds. And I’ve felt guilty as hell all day.
I know that I’m not technically doing anything wrong.
Leena and Eric haven’t been together in over a year, and the
last time that they dated wasn’t for very long. But it seemed
to really hurt Leena. That’s the only reason I can think for
the complete purge of him from every aspect of her real and
online life. Me sleeping with them would feel like a betrayal,
I’m sure.
And yet, the only thing that has enough power to make
me forget about betraying my best friend is fucking him
again. And so that’s what I did.
But I still have nervous energy coursing through my
veins. I’m unsettled and restless. I hate it. So I’m pushing
everything I have into unwrapping chocolate, and eating
more of it than I probably should.
I look over at Mabel, who’s organizing the marshmallows
and graham crackers. “I’m assuming we don’t have any
adult beverages in the campground, do we?”
She chuckles. “No, dear.”
“Shit,” I whisper under my breath.
“What did he do?”
I go still for a second before starting to unwrap and break
more bars. “Who?”
“Eric.”
“He didn’t do anything.”
Mabel smiles in that knowing way that she has—that
she’s always had. “If you say so.”
“Why would you think that?”
She rolls her eyes now. “The rest of us aren’t stupid,
Persephone. And I saw you two when you were together the
last time. You’ve been attacking those chocolate bars like a
woodpecker in heat, so I know you’ve got your bug up about
something. All your campers sing your praises, and so do the
other counselors. But I see the way you and Eric look at each
other. He did something. You don’t have to tell me about it if
you don’t want to, but it’s a simple process of elimination.”
I gape at her. There’s a reason that Mabel is still here.
She’s the witch, fairy godmother, and loving grandmother of
Red Rock Summer Camp all rolled into one. “He didn’t do
anything,” I whisper. “I did something. Or I let it happen.”
“I see you took your cryptic pill today,” she says.
“It’s complicated, Mabel.” I drop the chocolate and sit on
a stool across from her.
She smiles a little half smile like the fucking Mona Lisa.
“In my experience dear, nothing is actually that complicated.
People say it’s complicated when it involves something that
they don’t want to face. Either about themselves or about
someone else. So, which is it for you?”
Fuck, I hate that she’s right. But in this case, I don’t want
to face things about me, Eric, or Leena. “Is it okay that it’s
both?”
“Yes. As long as you know the real reason.”
I sigh. “Okay but is it wrong if I don’t want to deal with
it?”
“Not necessarily. Nobody likes discomfort. But is it going
to be better in the long run if you get it over with?”
There’s no telling. Because it could go either way. “I
honestly don’t know.”
“Then is it better in the long run to know or to ignore it
and just attack chocolate?”
I make a face at her. “I hate you and your logic.”
Mabel grins. “Me and my logic have survived worse. Why
don’t you go and see if they need any help with the fire?
We’re almost done yet and we’re about to start.”
“Okay.” I hop o the stool and head to the door, but she
calls after me before I reach it.
“Seph?” I turn and look. “For what it’s worth? Not
knowing will always be an open wound.”
I press my lips together, flexing and clenching my hands.
I was afraid of that. “Thanks, Mabel.”
“Any time.”
The bonfire is a hit. For sure. All the kids are enjoying
themselves, and everyone is being a good sport about some
of the silly games that we’ve decided to play—even the
troublemakers.
You can have s’mores any time you want to, but there’s
something about making them at an actual campfire with
friends that creates something truly special. They taste
di erent. Like magic. My hands itch for a pen to write down
the words flowing in my head, but I force it away. I gave up
that habit a long time ago. The only reason it’s surfacing at
all is because I’m here.
The bonfire is by no means small, although the first one
is always the smallest of the summer, because the base of
this fire serves as the base o all the rest of them. Building
and building until the last night of camp where it’s a blue so
big the counsellors have water and fire extinguishers stashed
within easy reach.
That first summer with Eric, the final bonfire was
eventful. I wonder if this one will be too.
“You know,” one of the male counselors says. “It’s a pity
we don’t have anyone to play music. I thought Joey would be
back this year with his guitar.”
There’s a chorus of agreement from both the sta and the
campers because it’s true. Having music here right now
would be perfect. And there’s one person that I know still has
a guitar. I spotted it in his cabin after we had sex.
Glancing across the fire I make eye contact with Eric and
raise my eyebrows. “We do have someone who can play…” I
say, and all eyes turn to him now.
He laughs like it’s a good joke. “That was a long time ago
Persephone.”
 “I don’t know,” I smile. “I think everyone would love to
hear you play.”
He’s about to defer again, but the kids jump in. They want
him to. It’s entirely possible that more than half of them
want him to play so that they can make fun of him later, but
I know that won’t happen. Because Eric is good. There’s a
reason that he’s pursuing music.
But he hasn’t talked about that at all to me. I know he
lives in New York, and I know he has an agent who’s trying
to make him a star. Leena told me about those things. But he
hasn’t. Not so much mentioned the words New York or music.
And I think tonight I need to know why.
If I’m going to face things the way Mabel suggested that I
should, I need to know why he’s here and not there. What
went wrong? Why isn’t he pursuing his dream?
Finally, Eric relents. “Okay, okay. I have to go get the
guitar from my cabin and I’ll be right back.” He smiles at me
and shakes his head like he can’t believe that I did this. But I
can’t believe that he thinks I wouldn’t. I know how talented
he is. You don’t just lose talent like that.
There are cheers from the campers as he stands and walks
o into the dark to get his music, and I roast myself another
marshmallow.
I feel the way I did when I was seventeen. Like I’m in this
perfect bubble that I don’t want to burst. Is it really better to
know? At the expense of what could be something beautiful?
If I face everything I need to face, what happens if it goes
wrong? That will be a long and awkward summer working
alongside Eric and not being able to touch him or kiss him
or—
Fuck.
The thought stops me in my tracks. I’m falling for him all
over again. And not in the way I’ve been holding a candle for
him for years. This is real. Oh god.
 I love the sensation of falling. I always have. And it’s one
of the reasons I’ve always remembered that summer. But
falling means that you’ll likely get hurt. I don’t know if I can
take another heartbreak. But if it is going to be heartbreak,
then I agree with Mabel. Sooner is better. Because then you
can move on if you need to.
Eric walks out of the darkness with his guitar, and he’s
never looked so beautiful, or so like a rockstar. The light
from the fire glows along his frame, glinting o the
instrument. The dark jeans he has on show his powerfully
built legs, and the shirt he has pushed up to the elbows gives
me a glimpse of those perfect, toned forearms.
I have no idea what makes that part of the body hot on
men, but it is. Holy shit.
I’m the person that he looks at when he steps into the
circle of light, and that small smile makes my stomach do a
flip. His blue eyes are almost turquoise in the fire’s light.
Like the color of the water the day he took me under the dock
that summer. Oh my god, I’m in so much trouble.
Where’s the chocolate? Chocolate is good for panicking,
right?
Eric settles back down in his seat, and everyone gets
quiet. “What should I play?”
“Smoke on the water,” one of the adults says, and
everybody laughs.
One of the kids suggests a song that I know has been one
the radio recently, and Eric goes quiet. “Yeah,” he finally
says, though his voice is rough. “I can play that.”
Clearing his throat, he starts to strum the guitar. I’m
having déjà vu in this moment. Especially when he looks at
me and starts to sing. His voice is haunting, like it was made
for this song’s lyrics which are about love and finding where
you belong.
 On the radio it’s still a ballad, but it has a soothing,
peaceful tone. This is bittersweet and mournful in the best
way. It doesn’t change the mood of the people surrounding
the campfire, but it sharpens it. We’re all hanging on Eric’s
every note, because he’s a goddamn brilliant musician.
If any of those people in New York he’s working with in
New York can’t see that, they’re not very good at their jobs.
The song ends, and everyone cheers. No one is going to be
making any snide comments about Eric’s guitar playing
tomorrow. No way in hell. Immediately there’s more song
suggestions thrown out from every side, and he laughs.
“Okay give me a minute. Somebody starts writing down a
list. If I know it, we’ll play it.”
He takes a swig out of the water bottle sitting by his feet
and grins as the teens scramble for a piece of paper to give
him. “Seph, you got a piece of paper?”
I understand why he’s asking. When we were last here, I
never was without paper or that little notebook. I filled it to
the brim with thoughts about came and thoughts about him.
But no more. So I shake my head.
Eric looks confused and troubled for a second before an
actual person yells that they’ve got it and chaos ensues as
everyone is yelling song titles. It takes a few minutes, but
they get it together. At this rate, we’ll be here all night
singing.
And honestly, as long as I get to watch him, I wouldn’t
care.
16
 ERIC
SIX YEARS AGO

I’m not freaking out. Nope. Not at all.

At least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself in order to
get my nerves to calm down. I’ll never be able to actually
play the guitar if I’m so jumpy that my hands are spazzing
out.
But I’m so afraid that I’m going to mess up while I’m
playing for Seph. It’s crazy, because I don’t have stage fright.
Playing in front of people has never bothered me. But this is
Seph. And not only that, it’s the song that I wrote for her.
This is what I want to do with my life. I love making
music because it makes people happy and smile. And I’ve
worked really hard on it. But playing for Seph feels a little
like melting in the sun. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad, but I
told her I would.
I’m already sitting on our rock by the waterfall. And I
don’t give a shit if this path ever opens again and everyone
comes and hangs out and spends time here. This will always
be our rock. Here. Together.
Seph comes out of the trees and she’s already smiling.
Practically bouncing on her feet. My stomach drops through
my feet. I’ll never doubt anyone again when they say that
they’re nervous to go on stage. I swear that I never
understood it before now.
“Hi,” she says.
I clear my throat. “Hey.”
My guitar is in my lap and I don’t move to touch her or
kiss her because if I do that, I might lose my nerve entirely.
Or get so lost in her that I just will forget what we’re
supposed to be doing here.
“I’m excited,” she says, and I manage to smile.
I clear my throat again. “It’s just the beginning. It’s not
perfect or anything. So if I—”
“You don’t have to make excuses, Eric. I want to hear you
play. I’m not here as a favor.”
The tension in my chest releases a little bit, but I’m still
nervous. I hesitate for a little longer, and Seph gives me a
look. It’s teasing and playful but it’s also telling me to get on
with it so she can listen.
So I start to play. Thank fuck that I practiced, because my
fingers already know what to do and I can rely on them. I got
my fair share of teasing from my friends about the lyrics that
I’m about to sing, but the song grew on them, and they were
all supportive of me when I told them that I was finally going
to play it for her. Which is good.
It was impossible to sleep after I left her that night in the
waterfall. I had never been so awake. And it was all because
of her. The lyrics for this came pouring out of me like they
were already written, and I was just noting them down. The
melody came not long after. It’s the easiest time that I’ve
ever had writing a song. And my first ever love song.
I start to sing, and my heart is in my throat. The lyrics are
about her. And about us. Being vulnerable together and
experiencing everything for the first time together. How our
connection feels so deep that I don’t think that time and
distance could ever truly sever it. About how I love her, and
us together.
Halfway through the song, I dare to look up at her. Seph’s
lips are parted and her eyes are shining. She looks wrapped
up in the music, hanging on every word and note. She looks
so fucking beautiful, I’m going to remember the way she
looks right now forever.
Eyes so green they match the surrounding woods, hair lit
up like a torch by the sun. That burning, vibrant red. Gaze
locked on mine, and it says that she loves me, even if neither
of us have said the words. It’s what I’m trying to say now.
I love you. I don’t know what is going to happen, but I
love you. We’re perfect.
Wrapping up the song, I let the last note linger in the air. I
did okay. Not a mind-blowing performance, but at least I
didn’t forget the words in the middle. That’s what counts.
But that’s not the way that Seph reacts.
She’s silent for a second and then she’s clapping wildly.
“Oh my god, Eric, that was amazing!” I barely have time to
put my guitar aside before she’s in my lap and kissing me,
and I’m kissing her back. “I can’t believe that you wrote that
for me. No one’s ever done anything like that for me. Ever.”
Her reaction is like pure adrenaline to the system. I want
to make people feel things. If I hadn’t already decided that
this is what I wanted to do, this would probably have
convinced me. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her
tight and let her straddle my lap.
For the first time I don’t have the urge to turn this into
something sexual. It’s pure, and I just want to know that she
loved it. I want to hear it from her. “You liked it?”
“I more than liked it, Eric. That was beautiful and perfect
and I’m going to need you to record that for me so I can
listen to it all the time.”
I’m grinning from ear to ear now. “I’m glad.”
 “You’re going to be famous,” she whispers.
“I highly doubt that.”
“Seriously. Eric Elmore is going to be one of those names
that people know. Every song on the radio will be yours, and
you’ll perform for sold-out stadiums.”
I take a leap. “If that happens, will you be there with
me?”
She smiles shyly. “It’s a possibility.”
I kiss her, showing her just how much I want that. Right
now in this moment, I wouldn’t mind if the only person that
I ever got to perform for was her.
“And what about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“Your writing.” I point to the book that she left sitting on
the rock when she tackled me. “You don’t talk about what
you want to do with it.”
Seph shrugs. “I don’t know that I’ll do anything with it.”
I press my fingers into her a little harder. “I know you
well enough now to know when you’re lying, Seph.”
“Ugh.” She looks away. “It’s just hard. Being a writer
isn’t an easy way to live, and being published is even harder.
To get that far and do what I want…It doesn’t seem possible.
I’m not good enough.”
“Bullshit,” I say.
“Eric—”
“No,” I say gently, cutting her o . “You don’t get to sit
here and cheer me on and then be down on yourself. Your
writing is brilliant, Seph. And everyone should read it. I’m
not even a big reader and I always want to know what you
have to say. Speaking of, I haven’t even read anything of
yours in a couple of weeks.”
Her face immediately turns to a shade of red that I’m
familiar with. “That’s okay,” Seph says too fast. “You don’t
have to do that.”
 I move her from my lap and dive for the book, laughing.
“There’s no ‘have to.’ I want to,”
“No, Eric, don’t.” The terror in her tone makes me stop
short.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing.”
I give her a look that tells her that I’m onto her. “You’ve
never minded me reading before. But you do now. Why?”
She looks down and mumbles something, so I move back
to her and make her look at me. “I missed that.”
“It’s about you,” she sighs and looks thoroughly
embarrassed. “I’ve been writing about you and I don’t really
want you to read it, okay?”
Pride and satisfaction bubble up in my chest. “You wrote
about me?”
Seph covers her face with my hands. “Yes. You’re all I can
think about, of course I wrote about you.”
“Why are you embarrassed? I wrote about you too.”
“I don’t know,” she shakes her head. “I just feels…like a
lot.”
I pull her hands away from her face. “Well, if you ever feel
like you’re okay with me reading it, I would love to. But I
would never force you. I nearly fell apart before playing you
the song, so it’s not like I’m a stranger to nerves or
anything.”
“You didn’t seem nervous.”
“I was. And I never get nervous.”
She bites her lip. I hope that she never loses the habit
because I love it. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” I pull some Starbursts out of my bag and o er
them to her, just like I did on the first day of camp. This is
the first time that I’ve been able to get more. “You can chew
while you think.” Her eyes go wide and I laugh. “I’m
kidding.”
 She unwraps the candy and eats it. I take one too. And we
sit in silence for a few minutes. Finally, I have to ask. “Did
you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“That you might be with me.”
She looks down. “We don’t have to talk about the future
right now.”
“We do have to talk about it sometime.”
“Do we?”
She looks so miserable that I want to drop it, but I can’t.
Because I want to know what she’s thinking. “Talk to me,
Seph.”
“I’m being stupid, I’m sorry.” She swipes at her eyes and
tries to turn away, but I don’t let her.
“You’re not being stupid. But I can’t help if I don’t know
what you’re thinking.”
“I’m just scared,” she says. “This is so perfect, and I’m
afraid that the real world will ruin it. That we’ll try to make
it work and get so frustrated by logistics that everything will
fall apart and it will ruin all of our memories. Or that we’ll go
back to our ordinary lives and realize that the other person
isn’t really what we imagined.”
“Does that mean that we shouldn’t try?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “There are moments that I
think that it’s too perfect, and so we should leave it here.
Where it’s safe. And then I think about that and it hurts too
much to breathe. Then I think about losing you to some
other reason and that hurts too. You scare the hell out of me,
Eric.”
Leaning forward, I press my forehead against hers. “You
scare me too.”
I was going to tell her that there’s every possibility that
the troubles she’s envisioning might not be there. But it’s
not set in stone, and if I gave her that hope and then took it
away, I think it would crush her even more than her current
fears.
“So what do we do?” she asks.
“I’m not sure. But I know that nothing has to happen
right now. We’re still here in the bubble and like hell am I
going to let this get between us, no matter what time we
have left.”
“Okay.” She relaxes against me, and I rub my hand down
her back.
“And Seph, I refuse to treat us like a countdown either.
Nothing is going to change for us. Not while we have right
now.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything, and I hold her until
the sadness passes. For both of us. I can’t say that her fears
aren’t valid. When we’re back in the unpredictable chaos of
the world, so many things can happen. But all I know is that
I want her.
I don’t care if people say that teenagers can’t fall in love
for real. I don’t care that we’re young. All I care about is the
fact that I’m in love with Persephone. And unlike the
mythological Hades, I want to be with her all year round.
No matter what.
17
 PERSEPHONE
SIX YEARS AGO

The little town an hour outside of camp where Eric lives is

adorable. He smiled and charmed his way into letting us tag
along with the sta to pick up supplies for the last week of
camp.
It’s a nice little break, and riding in one of the cars with
Mabel is sweet. She likes old fifties music and doesn’t care
that we’re snuggling in the back seat of the car the way the
counselors in the other car might. She actually smiles when
she sees us in the mirror, and I like to think that she fancies
herself responsible for us. Or at least aware of exactly when
we started.
Now I’m puttering around the general store, and I grab
some Starbursts for Eric and me to share on the way back.
They have those bags of individual colors, which is perfect. I
get him a bag of red ones and a bag of pink ones for me. We
may steal some of each other’s, but those will keep us happy.
I see Eric on the other side of the store, and he smiles at
me. I wish there wasn’t an hour ride back to the camp
because I have the urge to kiss that boy and more, and it’ll be
hard to wait.
Glancing at the counselors that are still shopping, we’ve
got a while before they gather everything that the camp is
going to need, and I have an idea. A little bit sexy and a little
bit of payback.
Paying for the candy, I stash the bag with Mabel and walk
outside, raising my eyebrow at Eric as I go. He follows. It’s a
small store and in back is just a few trees and a fence, but
it’ll be good enough.
As soon as he comes around the corner, I grab him by the
shirt and kiss him hard. He’s laughing. “What are you
doing?”
“Remember that time when you dragged me out to the
lake and made me come when we could easily be caught?”
Eric grins. “I do remember that, but I don’t think
anyone’s going to be too mad if they catch us kissing.”
“Then let’s do something that would make them mad.”
I sink to my knees and Eric goes still in shock, then tries
to pull me back up to my feet again. “You can’t do that
here.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” He cuts himself o , realizing that the same
argument that he was about to use was what I said when we
were under the dock.
“Let me,” I say. “I’ve never done it before, and I may not
be good at it, but I want to try.”
He doesn’t say no. Instead, Eric closes his eyes and
unbuckles his belt. “You don’t have to do this.”
I watch him reveal himself, and there’s no doubt that I
want to do it. “People say that guys don’t like going down.
And people say that girls don’t like going down. I say we just
try to let people do want they want to do, and I want to try
this.”
Reaching out, I touch him. He’s hardening by the second,
and he looks di erent up close. I have no idea what I am
doing, but I taste him. I’ve heard that it’s bad, and that
giving head is the worst. So many of my friends that have
done this before me seem to hate it.
But I hear the little gasp and moan from Eric above me,
and the fact that I’m turning him on turns me on. He tastes
like him. It’s not unexpected and it’s not bad at all. I kind of
like the his flavor, and for the first time I understand why he
says he likes mine.
I take him deeper, like I’ve heard they like. There’s been
enough magazine articles about blow jobs passed around at
sleepovers that I know at least the basics. Tongue, suction,
the same rhythm as sex.
I can do that. I suck him like a lollipop, and he curses. I
must be doing something right then. He gets even harder in
my mouth, and that’s a weird and amazing sensation. And
he’s breathing hard.
Changing it up, I use my tongue on him like I would a
popsicle. Eric’s hips jerk forward, and he groans. “Jesus,
Seph. I’m going to finish. I can’t last.”
I keep going, adding both tongue and suction to him, just
like he did to me before I fell apart, and he explodes in my
mouth. Salty heat shoots in my mouth in burst after burst.
It’s unexpected even though I knew it was coming. So much
cum that it fills my mouth.
It’s not hard to swallow it because it’s coming so quickly.
And when I look up at him, his eyes are on mine. Still wide
with awe. Eric jerks in my mouth, the last of his orgasm
pouring out.
He doesn’t move. Still as a statue, and I let him go. “Are
you okay.”
Eric blinks. “Am I okay? Holy shit, Seph.”
From the front of the store I hear Mabel’s voice. “Eric.
Persephone. Time to go!”
I grin at him as I stand up and he scrambles to put
himself back in his pants. “Just in time. They might have
come looking.”
Eric doesn’t blush nearly as often as I do, but he’s
blushing now. And I laugh as I take his hand as we walk back
to the front of the store. “By the way,” I say, leaning up to
press a kiss to his cheek, “I bought us Starbursts for the way
back.”
“I think I might love you.”
I freeze for a second, and then smile. He’s not really
saying that. It’s not real. It’s just because of the Starbursts
and he’s drunk in his post orgasm state. That’s all it is.
Mabel smiles when she sees us, and to her never-ending
credit, she doesn’t ask us where we’ve been. She hands me
the Starbursts as we slip into the back of her car and start on
the drive back to the camp.
18
 PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

We sing songs for hours, and I think that the kids would
have sung for hours more if Eric hadn’t finally said his voice
was shot. Things emptied out pretty quickly after that. They
were tired, even if they didn’t want to admit it.
I don’t move as people leave because I want to be alone
with Eric. The su ering wasn’t as bad as I thought it would
be while other people were present, but as more and more
people leave, my body is becoming more aware of him.
Finally, it’s just him, me, and Mabel, who knows how to
bank the fire properly so we can sleep without worrying it
was flare up and burn down the camp. Eric and I say nothing.
When she’s finished, she smiles at the two of us.
Especially at me. “Have a good night, you two.”
“Thanks, Mabel.”
As soon as she’s out of earshot and we’re alone, Eric
meets my eyes over the embers, and he begins to strum his
guitar again. Oh, no.
I’d know the opening of that song anywhere. I listened to
it on repeat for at least a month when he gave me the CD.
Back when there were things like CDs. It’s the song that he
wrote for me and only me after we took each other’s
virginities. I never shared it with anyone—not even Leena.
And given everything that happened, I’m glad that I didn’t.
Sometimes I still listen to it, if I’m feeling particularly
down. Because this song will always hold a special place in
my heart. The words are sweet and vulnerable, and the
melody the kind that makes your chest ache. I close my eyes
and listen.
We were so young, but this takes me back, and it makes
me wonder if maybe things could be okay after all. Maybe we
can find a way to pick everything back up and redo it.
When the song ends, Eric doesn’t speak. He places his
guitar down on one of the log benches and comes around the
firepit to me, and leans down to kiss me. It’s sweet and
gentle with a promise of more. I’m not interested in our
mutual teasing and su ering right now. All I want is him.
And I put all of that into how I kiss him back.
When he pulls me to my feet and takes my hand, I know
where we’re going after the first step that he takes.
The waterfall hasn’t changed. Do they ever change? I’ve
been avoiding coming here since I’ve been back. Too many
charged memories for me to face. But stepping out of the
tree line with Eric feels good., and when he kisses me again,
it’s full circle. I know why we’re here. This could either be
the perfect closure for us or a new beginning. We won’t know
which way yet, but we both need this moment.
Eric peels me out of my shirt slowly. Gently. Taking care
to touch me wherever he can. It feels like being seen. The
complete opposite of what happened at the beginning of the
week when we were frantic and desperate and ignored
almost everything but the end result.
When I pull o his shirt and add it to the pile of clothes
with mine, I trace his lines. He’s beautiful, and for the
moment, at least, he’s mine. My bra joins the pile of clothes
and then both of our pants, and Eric kneels in front of me.
Reverently brushing his hands over my hips as he removes
my panties.
He kisses my clit. So softly that it’s almost chaste, but it
still steals the air from my lungs. Brushes of his tongue
warm me up, suddenly bringing back all that pent-up sexual
frustration from earlier, and I moan into the air.
This is primal. Sex under a summer sky with nothing but
the stars to watch us. Eric lays me down on the rock, the cool
surface a sudden contrast to the fire of his body on mine. His
underwear disappears and joins the last of our clothes. And
we’re nothing but naked together, kissing slowly.
Languorous and unhurried.
Eric moves his mouth to my neck and then my shoulder,
dragging his lips and tongue to draw firmly constellations
that match the ones looking down on us from above. He
kisses my breasts and nipples, letting them harden under his
tongue, and I remember that night when the newness of his
touch was the only thing in the world.
He keeps drawing patterns with that mischievous mouth
of his, sinking down my skin until he’s once again teasing
me with his tongue. Something that he’s always loved to do,
and the groan that he makes when he pushes his tongue
inside my pussy doesn’t make me doubt it again, even for a
second.
When he surfaces I’m on the edge of pleasure. Writhing
on the rock and happy to take whatever scratches I get as
reminders of this moment. And I’ll remember the way he’s
poised over me. Lithe and graceful, with eyes burning and
cock hard, ready to seal us together in one way or another.
Eric freezes, and I realize why. Neither of us were
prepared for this, and he doesn’t have a condom. I reach out
and touch his cheek, guiding his gaze to mine. I don’t care.
Even if it’s only once, I want to feel him for him. He only
hesitates for a moment before fitting himself against me and
thrusting in, crashing his mouth down on mine at the same
time.
It’s everything.
We continue our slow dance. Every time he drives into me
it’s his whole cock. Pulling back to the brink and then sliding
deep. Delicious heat and friction and fullness. Our tongues
collide with each other, curling and pushing and invading.
It’s a slow battle, but neither of us is trying to win.
Pushing his cock deep, Eric changes the rhythm. He locks
our hips together so we can’t move apart. Every motion
grinds down on my clit as he speeds up, moving his hips to
tease that spot so far inside that it’s hard to reach.
He has no problem reaching it.
I wrap my legs around his hips and relax, surrendering to
the bright star of orgasm that’s flooding in from every
direction. We move toward it together. There’s no holding
back or trying to last longer. And it’s beautiful.
Pleasure spirals up and out, washing over me in a bright
wave. In the same moment, I feel Eric fall into it with me,
spilling heat deep inside. We shudder together, each other’s
pleasure triggering echoes in each other back and forth and
again.
I gasp into his mouth, cling to him until everything
passes and we’re left the way we were on that first night
together. Just resting. Basking in each other. Ever since then
it’s been one of my favorite parts of sex—his comforting
weight.
Maybe this can work. The peace I feel gives me hope that
maybe we can be together after all. And I’m glad that we did
this, because no matter what happens I will not let this
memory be contaminated. This one will always be perfect in
my mind.
But it’s time to face the things that we’ve been avoiding.
 “Why did you come back here, Eric?” My words are loud
in the silence, breaking the magic of our silence. But it’s
okay. It lets us breathe in a di erent way.
“What do you mean?”
I sigh, running my fingers through his hair. “I mean that
you shouldn’t be here. I remember what we talked about
when we were here the last time. You’re crazy, stupid
talented. And I know you’re in New York and have an agent.”
Eric startles and pulls further back to look at me. “How do
you know that?”
I blush, biting my lip. “Leena told me. Couple of years
ago.”
He sighs heavily and gets up. “I suppose it’s time we talk
about that elephant in the room.”
I draw my hand down the skin of his back as he reaches
for his underwear. “I wish we didn’t have to.”
He gets dressed quickly, and I reach for my clothes too.
Eric doesn’t seem angry, more like he doesn’t want to have
this conversation naked. I can’t say I blame him. It’s drawing
a line between what just happened and the conversation that
we have to have.
“I have questions too, you know,” he says. “Like why you
pretended that what we had never happened? I thought we
had agreed if we still felt the way after that summer, we
would give it a shot.”
He drops his head in his hands. “I just want to know what
I did. What changed in that month?”
Shock shatters through me. “What happened? What do
you mean what happened?”
“Why did you cut me o entirely?”
“I didn’t,” I gasp. “When you came to school you were
already with her, and she’s my best friend. You dated her for
years. You picked her, Eric. What was I supposed to do?”
 Pain blooms in my heart as I speak those words, because
it brings back all the pain. Seeing him with her ripped my
heart open, right after the shock of seeing him at all. We had
been within days of reaching out to each other, and then
there he was. With Leena.
Eric looks about as shocked as I do. “I didn’t pick her,
Seph. You picked her. You didn’t say anything.”
“How was I supposed to do that? She showed up and was
head over heels for you. What choice did I have?”
He shakes his head. “You could have told her who I was.
You could have told her that I was taken.”
“And you could have told her no.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, the absence of our voices
loud in the woods. The waterfall and the wind in the trees
only serve to emphasize the fact that neither of us is
speaking.
“Maybe it would have been di erent, if we had been
together. If you’d asked me to be your girlfriend.”
“Seph, you can’t put that on me. I tried. I was the one who
wanted to stay together. I begged. I told you that I would
make the drives to see you. That I would call. I would have
done anything for you. You were scared and you wanted to
see if we still felt the same way after time apart. I didn’t
want that.”
A tear slips out of my eye. “I know that I fucked up too. I
know I did. But I wanted you, Eric. I wanted you to tell me
that you loved me and that nothing else mattered but the two
of us. You didn’t do any of that. Not even before we left. You
disappeared without a goodbye, and the next time I saw you,
you were with her.”
Eric covers his face with his hands. “There’s so much that
I can’t change. That I won’t be able to take back. I’m sure
that you feel the same. It’s in the past. Is there any way that
we can find a way past it? Cause I want that Seph. I want you.
I want what we’ve never been able to have.”
Everything feels like it’s crashing down around me. It
doesn’t matter what Mabel says. This is complicated, even
after facing it. There’s no way through these thorns without
getting snagged and torn. “This is the past, Eric. Look where
we are. What are we doing? We’re reliving it.”
“And that’s bad? We have a second chance.”
I’m really crying now. It feels like my chest is cracking
open because how am I supposed to do this? How am I meant
to go back to my phone and that unanswered text message
and tell my best friend that I’ve been fucking her ex, even if I
loved him first. “It’s too much,” I say.
“It’s not. We can draw a line under everything.”
I shake my head. “I thought I could, but I would have to
choose between you and her. And I can’t do that.”
“Leena—” Eric cuts himself o , holding back whatever
was going to say. “Persephone please. Please don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, tears pouring down my face. “I can’t
do this.”
I’m a coward, and Mabel would be ashamed of me, but
this hurts too much. I knew when he asked me why I was
being cold that it was for a good reason. That it would end up
in pain. I was too stupid and hopeful for this to actually work
out. And so I leave. I run away.
19
 ERIC
SIX YEARS AGO

It’s the last day of camp, and my heart is heavy. I don’t want
this to be the end of everything that Seph and I have, and I
don’t want the summer to be over. I’m excited for the
possibility of some of things to come this next year, but this
has been the best time of my life.
I’m eating breakfast with my parents, as is our tradition
on the last day of camp. “So,” my father says, “we thought
that you might introduce Persephone to us.”
I swallow the bite of pancake that’s in my mouth. “How
much do you know?”
My mother chuckles. “You two aren’t as subtle as you
think you are. But we like her. She seems sweet. We figured
there was a reason.”
I sigh. “It’s just hard. I want more than camp, and she’s
nervous that the real world will ruin us. I thought that
meeting my parents as my parents might be a little much in
the middle of that.”
“Fair enough,” my father says, taking a sip of his co ee.
“What are you going to do to convince her?”
I smile, because he already figured out that I was going to
try. “I have a couple of ideas.”
 “And we have something that might help,” Mom says,
holding up a set of keys.
Keys to the family RV.
“What are those for?”
She passes the keys across the table to me. “Your father
and I went to get the camper yesterday so that we could use
it to haul things tomorrow. If you want to use it tonight, your
father and I are okay with that.”
I gape at my parents. Are they seriously saying that
they’re fine with me sneaking my girlfriend into the camper
and having sex? “Really?”
My dad gives me a look. “We’re not stupid, Eric. You two
have been spending time together since the beginning. If you
guys haven’t slept together, I’ll be a horse’s ass.”
“Aaron,” my mother drops her face into one hand.
“Jesus.” They’re both laughing though. “But yes, Eric. Your
father and I both know what it’s like to be your age, and as
long as you’re being careful, you can use it tonight.”
I’m not meeting either of their eyes because I don’t really
feel comfortable talking to my parents about my sex life, but
still. “That’s really nice of you.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” my dad says, raising an eyebrow. “I
have a reputation to maintain as a hardass.”
I roll my eyes. Everyone knows my dad enforces the rules,
but no would ever say he’s a hardass. Finishing my food, I
grab the keys. Now I have more plans, on top of the things
that I was already doing.
“Have fun,” they call after me.

I find Seph where I knew I would: writing by the lake. I’ve

done everything I can, and now I have to make my play.
Dinner has passed, and the sun is setting. We haven’t seen
each other much today. Partially because I’ve been busy
getting ready for tonight. Partially because tomorrow is
going to hurt.
“Hi beautiful.”
She blushes before she even looks up, and as long as I can
make her blush, I think that I’ll be happy. “Hi.”
“I missed you today.”
“Me too,” she says, closing the book and turning to me
on the bench. This picnic table is one that she’s frequented
with her writing, and it’s become the place that I check first
when I’m looking for her. “You didn’t seem like you were
anywhere.”
I smile. “That’s because I was getting ready.”
“For what?”
“To give you your gift.”
Her eyes sparkle. “You got me a gift?”
“Well, kind of. Actually, my parents kind of did.”
Seph’s eyebrows raise. “What?”
I laugh and tell her about how they cornered me at
breakfast, and about what they o ered. “You said that you
wanted to sleep together.”
“I did say that,” she leans into kiss me hard, and I wrap
my arms around her. To hell with pretending that we’re not
together. Not when my parents literally got us a room and
there are only 12 hours left of camp anyway.
I have another gift for her, but that’s going to come later.
“Think you can sneak out the stu you need from your
cabin? I mean, we have permission but we probably don’t
want to draw that kind of attention.”
She smirks. “Yeah. My bunkmates figured out what was
happening when I was sneaking out every night. It’ll be
fine.”
“Okay,” I say. “We can go whenever.”
 Seph laughs. “The sooner the better. We should grab
snacks.”
“Done,” I say.
“Really?”
“Where do you think I’ve been all day? I’m prepared.”
She smiles. “I have to see this now.”
Twenty minutes later she hops out of the window of her
cabin and into my arms with a bag slung over her shoulder,
and we’re walking to the RV, which is parked near my
parents’ cabin, but not so close that we won’t have privacy.
I open the door to it and bow. “Your carriage awaits.”
She’s grinning when she walks past me. It’s just an RV, and
to be honest, there’s not that much that can be done to hide
the fact. But I’ve done what I can. I stole blankets from as
many places as I could find them, and more lanterns like the
one I used at the waterfall.
The blankets are tucked here and there, making the inside
of the RV look like a tent, and the bed as made as nicely as I
could find, surrounded by the lanterns and flowers that I
found arranged on one of the pillows. Along with a bag of
Starbursts that I was saving for a goodbye gift.
Seph turns back to me. “You did all this for us?”
“Well, me and my parents, but I’ll take the credit.”
She laughs as she grabs my shirt and pulls me close. “I so
do not want to think about your parents right now.”
“Me either. I can think of something else I’d much rather
do.”
Seph drops her bag to the floor, and we reach for each
other at the same time.
20
 PERSEPHONE
SIX YEARS AGO

I’m looking up at the ceiling of this camper which right now

feels more like an Arabian escape with all the blankets.
Everything that happened after my bag hit the floor
happened fast. I’m trying to catch my breath while I stare
upwards, and Eric is beside me doing the same.
That was…it was amazing. He could have just brought me
here and done nothing and I still would have appreciated the
gesture. But he went to all this trouble to make it special.
And I love that.
Eric turns on his side toward me, brash in his nudity. It’s
nice that we don’t have to hide. And the fact that we’re
actually in a bed together. I have a blanket draped across me,
but he doesn’t seem to care.
I have to admit that it’s a nice view.
He leans across me to where he’s stashed the snacks and
grins when he comes back. “Starburst?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” I say. “Have you ever done that
thing where you unwrap it inside your mouth?”
“What?” He gives me a look.
“Girls at school used to do it all the time,” I laugh. “They
always said that it was supposed to tell whether you were a
good kisser because you could use your tongue to unwrap it. I
was always too scared to try because I had never been kissed
and I didn’t want them to make fun of me if I couldn’t do it.”
Eric looks intrigued. “Well, we’ve had enough practice at
kissing to give it a go, I think.”
I sit up. “Sure.”
We both take a candy and pop them into our mouths fully
wrapped. Immediately I realize that this might be harder
than I thought. Starburst wrappers are stuck down. I twist it
and turn it in my mouth, and giggle because Eric is doing
exactly the same thing and it looks hilarious.
I have to admit that the amount of making out that I’ve
done with Eric does seem to have helped this endeavor. My
tongue is a lot more flexible that in used to be.
There. I find a tiny corner of the wrapper that’s undone,
and I spear my tongue under it. I’m not sure if you’re
allowed to use your teeth or not. In those same groups of
girls there were arguments about that too. But I decide to try
it without.
Across from the little corner I freed I find the opposite
one, and I work it loose. After that, it’s easy. Just a little flap
that unrolls around the candy, and I pull the wrapper
between my lips victorious. Eric’s eyes bug out in shock, and
the contortions of his mouth grow more hectic as he tries to
complete it. It takes him a little longer, but he does get it.
Rolling his eyes as he chews his hard-won candy. “Jesus,
that’s harder than I thought. Had to use my teeth to get the
wrapper unstuck.”
“Some people might say that’s cheating. I didn’t use my
teeth.”
He tackles me gently, giving me a kiss that tastes like
cherry. “I guess you’re just a better kisser than me.”
“Damn straight.” I show him just how good I am for a few
minutes. “Eric, I had a thought.”
“Dangerous things, thoughts.”
 “I know, but…it might help things.”
He rolls onto his side so we’re lying next to each other,
our faces closer. “I always want to know what you’re
thinking, Persephone.”
I ignore the tingling in my skin and the heat in my
cheeks. “I think we should take one month after camp.
Thirty days. Without each other. To see if this is real. And if
we’re both still here, then I want it all. But if we’re not, then
it will be okay.”
His face falls a little. “Are you sure?”
I laugh, even though I don’t find this remotely funny.
“No. But it’s the only way I can think of that makes sense.”
“Besides just taking the leap? And being together?” he
asks.
I close my eyes. “I want that. I do. But every time close my
eyes and imagine what it’s going to be like to watch you
leave, I’m terrified. And I don’t know how to go from this—
seeing you every day—to nothing at all.”
He leans in and presses his lips to my neck softly, and
then more firmly, leading to what I’m sure will be much
more of the same for the night. And I want it all. “Two
weeks,” he says.
“Three.”
He looks up at me. “Until school starts.”
“Yes.”
His eyes are entirely serious. “And if three weeks go by,
and I show up on your doorstep telling you that I feel exactly
the same way that I do now, what happens?”
“Then I’ll do whatever you want,” I say. “We’ll give it a
go, even if it’s hard.”
“I will,” he says. “I know that there’s nothing that I can
say right now that will change your mind, so I won’t try. But
I’m going to prove to you that this is real, Seph. I’ll do what I
have to.”
 My heart and stomach settle. I’m not sure why I’m so
convinced that I need this time, but it’s deep in my gut. And
I’m so happy that he agreed that my whole body relaxes.
“Three weeks,” I whisper.
“And not a day longer. If you think that I won’t think
about you every day, you’re crazy.”
I shake my head, because even after all this, I don’t quite
believe it. I’ve known too many people who meet the love of
their life at camp and as soon as school starts, they’re
tangled with someone else pushed up against the lockers and
that’s the new love of their life.
We’re seventeen. What do we know about love? No matter
what my heart says. Eric kisses me, and doesn’t let me go.
And for the rest of the time that we have, I know I’ll be able
to enjoy it. In an actual bed.
I’m smiling as Eric rolls on top of me.

It’s dim in the camper when I open my eyes, entirely alone.

Next to me, there is a CD in a case with a note.
You asked for a recording. This was the best I could do here.
Three weeks.

-Eric

Terror floods my chest, and I put on my clothes and burst

out the doors of the camper. The whole camp is the usual
frenzy of the last day. Campers running around for last
minute swims and packing. I sling my bag over my shoulder
and head toward the main camp. I don’t see Eric.
 He has to be here, right? The camper is still here, and it
belongs to his family. There, I see his dad across the
grounds. He has to be here. Mr. Elmore sees me and waves a
hand, and I wave back.
Okay. Okay. He loves the lake. He’s probably gone for one
last swim. I’ll go pack my stu quickly so I’m not rushing for
the bus and then I’ll find him. Last night was perfect and
beautiful. And even though we’re taking time, that didn’t
mean that I don’t want to say goodbye.
And suddenly three weeks seems like an eternity. Maybe I
made a mistake?
I change my clothes and toss my stu in my suitcase,
packing faster than I’ve ever packed in my life. My heart is
pounding. I need to see him one more time. I take care to
make sure that the CD he left me is in my shoulder bag so I
can listen to it on the bus.
Dragging my suitcase across the camp grounds is always
my least favorite part of leaving camp, but right now I do it
in half the time, leaving it near the other collection of
suitcases. Mabel is there tracking them, and she takes my
name down and what color my suitcase is. “The bus should
be back in an hour, dear. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t. Mabel, I’m looking for Eric? You know, to say
goodbye.”
Mabel freezes. “I’m sorry, Persephone. Eric got on the
bus this morning. It was an easy enough run for his mother
to drop him at home, and so he went.” She sees my face and
pulls me into a quick hug. “Oh, I’m sorry dear. I thought that
he would have told you that.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “I’m fine.”
I can’t say more than that, because I’m already walking
away. But I barely turn my back before my face collapses into
tears, and I have to get away from here. I need to be alone,
and quickly. I don’t want anyone to see me cry, and I’m
running.
People shout at me not to run as I fly past, but I don’t
stop. And I find myself panting and out of breath at the
waterfall. He left. He didn’t say goodbye. And I did this. I told
him three weeks. But he did this too. He could have kissed
me one last time. Just in case the worst happens.
Tears are pouring down my face, and I’m glad that the
waterfall is here to mask the sound. I pull my CD player out
of my bag and fumble for the disc he left me. Just like I
thought it would be, it’s the song he wrote for me. Not the
best quality, but it’s enough to listen to. It’s all I have of him
right now.
I close my eyes, turn up the volume, and cry.
21
 PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

How could I let myself do this? I’m idiot. The tears are
blinding me enough that it takes me longer than it normally
would to make it down the path. I try to move quickly,
because I’m half-way expecting footsteps to come pounding
down the dirt behind me.
But Eric doesn’t come after me. Just like before. He didn’t
fight for me. He left early and didn’t say goodbye. Just like I
said, we’re re-living this over again. Like we’re stuck a loop
in one of those bad sci-fi movies. But this is real life and it’s
far more painful than I thought.
God, how could I be so stupid?
Finally, I make it back to my cabin, and I manage to get
control of myself enough to sneak in the door quietly. I don’t
want the girls to hear me crying. Some of them may have put
two and two together about me and Eric and I’m not going to
make the rest of their summer as awkward as mine is about
to be. Plus, everyone loves Eric, and that’s not fair to him.
I know teenage girls. I’ve been one. They’ll hold a grudge
on my behalf. For my own sake, I don’t need this to be
messier than necessary.
I hit my knee on my dresser in the dark, still not quite
used to the layout of my private room, and I curse. But it
seems a little karmic for my stupidity.
It doesn’t matter how long ago that Leena and Eric broke
up. They were still together for a long time. The break-up
happened just after college. They went to separate colleges,
and sometimes it seemed like they weren’t together at all.
Until it all blew up, and she erased him from the face of her
earth.
I never told her that Eric and I were together. That he was
the guy from camp that I fell head over heels in love with.
She just assumed that it was a random guy and that we broke
up when the summer was over. She never asked about him
when I didn’t bring him up. And I didn’t care, because that
would have been harder.
I can’t remember a world where I haven’t been friends
with Leena. She’s always been there for me, and me for her.
Senior year, when she and Eric were first together, we were
just as inseparable as we always had been. It’s been harder
since then, but we’re still close.
She’s o doing her thing working for a fabulous design
agency. She still travels like she did when we were younger,
and she’s always promising that she’ll use her connections
now to start me on my publishing journey. But that hasn’t
happened yet. There are a lot of reasons for it. It’s no one’s
fault.
I don’t even bother to fully change my clothes, just strip
to my underwear and climb under the covers. I’m still crying.
It’s like a reflex at this point, and I want to feel the pain
that’s cracking in my chest. I need to wallow in this misery.
Drown in it. So that I can get past it.
Speaking of Leena, I grab my phone o the nightstand,
and there are more texts from her from earlier. I left my
phone here during the bonfire because I didn’t want to be
disturbed. But there they are.
Bonfire night! Are you excited?
Hello? Woman have you died in the woods? Do I need to come
get you?

I smile a little at that. She would come get me if I needed her

to. And even though I can’t tell her about Eric and me, I can
count on her to at least make me feel a little better. And I
want to be able to talk about the fact that he’s here without
constantly worrying about stepping on her toes.

You still awake?

A laughing emoji comes through. Girl, it’s Friday night of

course I’m still awake.

It’s midnight. Which is late at camp, but in Leena’s

glamorous world the night is just beginning. She texts again.

How you holding up out there?

I’m okay. It’s a crazy memory train.

I was thinking about that today, she writes. Kind of wish that I
was out there too. The waterfall and the s’mores. Getting away
from it all. It would be a nice break.
Yeah. Everywhere I turn is complete déjà vu. I tell her. But I don’t
think that you would want to be here right now.

Frowning face and crying face. Why? I can still rough it.

Eric is here.

Eric who?

Eric Elmore, I say.

There’s such a long pause in her texting that I think that

she’s completely passed out. Or maybe she actually was in
bed and fell asleep. But then suddenly the texts start coming
hard and fast.

WHAT?!
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
What the fuck is that bastard doing at Red Rock? That
motherfucker better have a damn good reason.
Fucking moron.
Sucks for you that you have to spend the summer near
someone who brings the average IQ in the room down to zero.
Even through the pain, her vitriol is shocking. She’s never
really wanted to talk about Eric or why they broke up, even
though it was almost two year ago now. The fact that she
still feels that strongly…what the fuck happened?

Jesus Leena. A little harsh much? It’s been a long time.

No time is too long for an asshole.

…I guess not. But it’s been almost two years, right? Wouldn’t you
want him to be happy now? You’ve moved on.

Leena isn’t with anyone, but she’s the social butterfly. She’s
had plenty of boyfriends, and I know that she’s happy with
the way her life is. She doesn’t want to be pinned down—or
so she tells me.

Why? she asks. Is he dating someone?

I’m not sure, I say. I’m not getting into that. Maybe.

He is, isn’t he. It’s not a question. Who is it? One of those fucking
slutty teenagers? What a creep.
I roll my eyes in the dark, and I add the emoji to the text for
emphasis. No, of course not! I think it’s just someone our age.

Whatever. Of course he can do whatever he wants, the cocksucker.

But I know he’ll never get over me. He never gets over me. Every
time he walks away he comes crawling back like the pathetic
worm that he is.

I didn’t know that it had happened multiple times. But wow.

As furious as I am with the whole situation, that’s honestly
not how I expected things to go. What do I say to that? I
know Eric. I know him. And he knows me.
He’s not any of those things that she called him.
Whatever happened between them had to be bad, if she’s
still that pissed about it. I want to know, and yet I don’t want
to know.
I’m curious, but I can’t take any more of him being
ground into the dust by Leena’s words. I’m too sad for that.
It’s already too hard.
I don’t respond to her message, and put the phone back
on the nightstand, screen down so I can’t see the light.
There’s the sound of vibrations on the wood as she keeps
texting, but I ignore it. I turn away from it, and let myself cry
until I fall into sleep.
22
 ERIC
PRESENT

This day is shit. Last night was shit. Everything is shit.

It’s the hottest day of the year so far, and even with fans
pointing at me it’s nearly unbearable. I’m answering emails
in my cabin and enjoying the relative peace.
Some of the sta have gone into town for the weekly
supply and mail run, and I’m glad it’s the weekend. Because
I feel awful. I didn’t move for a long time after Seph left the
waterfall, and I could barely sleep.
Seph is mine. The statement is still so true that I don’t
doubt it. She’s mine and I am hers. It’s the only way any of
this makes sense.
I refuse to believe that there’s a way that we can’t get past
this. There has to be a way. I need to convince her that it’s
always been her, because it has. Leena never made me feel
the way Seph did. Does. And I was with her half the time out
of obligation. The few times we hooked up over the past
couple years were stupid mistakes that I made, desperate
and sometimes drunk. I regret them.
But Seph is so convinced that it’s a barrier. How do you
tell someone that the person who is their best friend in the
world isn’t the person that they think that they are?
 The fan next to me dies, and I look over. Did the plug fall
out? No, it’s still plugged in. I look at my laptop, and the
little battery charger symbol isn’t working. Shit.
Fuck. Shit.
Please don’t tell me that what just happened just
happened.
I stride out onto the porch of my cabin, examining the
dark clouds in the sky. The air is thick and humid—we’re
probably going to have a thunderstorm this afternoon. But
my stomach curls with dread when I already see a few
counselors heading my way.
“Generator?” I call.
“Yeah.”
I sigh. This is the last thing that I need right now. “Do we
know what the problem is?”
“Looks like it’s just the plug into the building. The
generator itself is working, but the power isn’t going
anywhere.”
Not good. The generator powers the entire camp.
Including the kitchen. I need to get that fixed, but I’ll have to
wait. Because the only vehicle that’s left at camp right now is
the bus, and I haven’t had a chance to get a new tire. I can’t
drive all the way to town on a donut. Not on the kind of roads
there are around here. And I can’t call the sta to pick this
up. It’s a di erent town which has the hardware store.
The universe really loves me today.
“I’ll try to get it fixed before dinner,” I say. “Do we have
enough stu for a cold lunch?” It’s about the time when
lunch starts being served.
The counselor nods. “We’ll make it work.”
“Okay.”
Hands on my hips, I lean my head back to the sky. God,
the last thing I want to do right now is this. I want to go back
inside and sleep o the pain that’s underlying everything.
The desperation to change how last night ended. Especially
after the mind-blowing, perfect sex that told me I’m more in
love with Seph than ever.
“My car is here,” A voice says from behind me. “I can
drive you.”
I turn to find the very object of my thoughts standing
there. And it is no consolation to me that she looks no better
than I do. Dark circles and pu y eyes. Her night and morning
have been just as bad as mine. I want to haul her against my
body and make both of our pain go away. My instincts are
screaming that the way to make this better is to touch her.
Hold her. And I fucking can’t.
“I can wait,” I say.
She sighs. “We’re adults, Eric. This sucks, but we need
power. I can spend a couple of hours in a car with you, even
after everything.”
I manage a small smile at that. “All right. I appreciate it.
Let me grab my wallet.”
“I’ll go get my keys.”
I want to pull her back as she walks away. Circle her in my
arms and kiss her. I love you. It’s always been you. Always.
We meet in the parking lot, and we slip into her little blue
sedan. I didn’t know she had a car here. Most of the
counselors don’t. It’s easier to just use the camp vehicles and
leave their cars for their families to use over the summer.
But I’m glad that this one is here, whatever the reason.
It’s silent at first. Neither of us know what to say right
now. And it grates on my nerves. The atmosphere doesn’t
seem particularly tense, but it’s not comfortable either.
Finally, I reach forward and press the button for the stereo.
Music suddenly blares from the speakers. Loud and brassy
and bright. It’s summer pop. A more recent artist. In fact, the
artist that I played the other night for the bonfire.
 I loved playing that song. But this doesn’t really seem like
Seph’s type of music. I glance over at her and smile.
“Really?” I’m imagining her driving and singing at the top
of her lungs, widows down and hair swirling, and I love that
image.
“Don’t judge me for my music choices,” she says. But the
words aren’t sharp. “I know you love her too.”
“She’s a good musician. And very kind.”
Seph suddenly looks over at me, before jerking her eyes
back to the road. “How do you know that?”
“I met her.”
I watch Seph’s eyes fly into her hair. “On the music
circuit I guess?”
“You could say that,” I smirk. “That song that I played.
The first one at the bonfire.”
“Yeah.” Seph reaches for the radio and clicks through the
songs on the album until the beginning of it supposed to
play. “What about it?”
“I wrote it.”
“What?” Her voice fills the car. “Are you serious?”
I laugh. “Completely.”
“Eric, everybody knows this song. It’s one of the best
ones out there right now.”
“That’s kind of you to say.”
She shakes her head. “It should be yours. Why isn’t it
yours?”
I shrug. “Because in music you have to pay a lot of dues,
and record labels don’t always take chances on brand new
artists, even if your songs are good.”
“It should be you.”
“I’m still hoping that it will be,” I say quietly.
We return to silence, the ballad filling the air between us.
But the atmosphere in the car is more relaxed than it was.
“Let me know if you need to crack some heads,” she says.
“I’m more than willing to come to New York and kick some
ass.”
I laugh loudly at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“They’ve never come face to face with true Georgia
stubbornness,” she says as we pull into the parking lot of the
hardware store.
“I don’t know,” I say. “New Yorkers are kind of known
for their immovable personalities.”
Seph steps out of the car. “Try me.”
“I believe you,” I say, grinning.
Why can’t it always be like this? This kind of thing
between us is sweet and easy, and it’s always been this way.
We’ve never had trouble talking.
Thankfully the part I need isn’t hard to find in the store.
Generators are commonplace out here. It only takes a few
minutes, and that’s good. Things are hot enough as it is, I
don’t want the kitchen sta to be out of power for too long.
Heading back out to the car, I glance at the sky. The
clouds are darkening, and I bet that the rain is coming soon.
This little hardware store is on the outskirts of the little
town, and other than the clerk inside the store, there are no
other cars, and no other people in sight. Sometimes it’s
shocking to remember how truly isolated we are out here.
Seph is leaning against the car, looking at me, and she
has a bright little package in her hands. I stop in my tracks.
Starbursts. She remembers the Starbursts. “Where did you
get those?”
She points to a vending machine on the outside of the
building. “Thought it might be a little peace o ering.”
My soul sags in relief. “I’ll take it.”
She hands me a red one, and she takes a pink one, and we
chew them together, and I don’t look away from her eyes.
The space between us feels tight, and we reach for each other
at the same time. Our mouths crash together, tasting of fruit
and sugar, and I devour her. She devours me too. It’s
desperate and angry and sad and a thousand things at once.
It’s so good to touch her, but at the same time…
“Seph, what does this mean?”
Her voice shakes. “I don’t know.”
“We can do this.” I make the promise to her.
There are tears in her eyes again. “We really can’t, Eric.”
“I know you love her,” I say, taking Seph’s face in my
hands. “But I don’t. Leena and I have been over a long time.
She doesn’t have to come between us anymore.”
She licks her lips. “I—I’d like to know what happened
between the two of you. I don’t think I have the full story.”
I nod. “I’ll tell you everything.”
Thunder cracks across the sky. “Later?” she asks.
“Later,” I agree.
Ideally, I would like to get the generator up and running
again before the rain falls. I can do it, but it will be trickier
when it’s wet. And this is a summer rain in Georgia. Which
means it’s likely to be a downpour.
We both jump in the car and Seph starts to drive. She’s
lived here all her life. She understands what a thunderstorm
like this means.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, expecting it to be one
of the counselors checking in about our progress, but it’s
not. My body goes cold. I don’t know if the woman is
psychic, or if the universe really just does have a death wish
for me today, but my body goes cold. The text on my phone
is from Leena.
I haven’t heard from her since the day I put a true, final
end to our relationship a year and a half ago. I made it clear
that we were done. No more random hookups when we were
bored and in the same town. No more ‘giving it another try,’
which I never really wanted. Nothing.
What could she possibly want?
 I doubt that Seph told her about us, given how torn up
about it she is in the first place, but she could have
mentioned that I was here. I steel myself and open the
message.

I hear you’re fooling around with somebody else. That’s a big

mistake you’re making.

I roll my eyes. The last time I checked, a break-up is a break-up,

Leena. I thought I made it clear that we were finished with each
other.

Oh sweetie, she says. You’ll never be done with me. I’ll always be
the best you’ve ever had, and I know that you’ll be back.

Attached to the text message is a picture. Leena, in lingerie.

She’s posed lewdly, looking at the camera like she wants to
fuck it. Leena is a beautiful woman, but the picture does
nothing for me. The only person I want is the one sitting
next to me.
The one who looks over and sees the picture of her best
friend in lingerie on my phone right after I kissed her.
Thunder cracks overhead and the sky opens up, pouring rain
down on top of us.
Seph swerves the car in shock, and then pulls over. She
gets out of the car into the pouring rain, and I dump my
phone on the seat and follow her. My clothes are soaked
through instantly. Her face when she turns to me doesn’t
seem angry, it’s devastated. “You really have some balls,
texting her in front of me.”
“I didn’t ask for that photo. I haven’t heard from Leena in
forever. Did you tell her that I was here?”
“I did, but only so I could mention you by name without
walking on eggshells. I didn’t tell her anything else. And this
is why it won’t work, Eric. This will keep happening. Little
reminders. Death by a thousand cuts.”
And just like that, I can’t keep quiet anymore. “Fucking
hell, Persephone. I don’t know how I can say it any more
clearly. I want you. I don’t want Leena. I don’t want anyone
else. I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you.
“Never in my life have I wanted anyone but you. You were
the one who pushed me away. And it was devastating.”
“What are you talking about?” she yells over the rain.
“You. Picked. Her.”
I storm through the water and grab her, pulling her close
and kissing her hard enough that I know that she’ll never
forget it.
“I’m going to tell you what happened,” I say. “And I need
you to listen. Not all of it is going to be easy to listen to, but
you have to hear it, Seph. Because it’s the only thing that’s
going to get us through this. And I want us to get through
this. Because I am so fucking in love with you and I’m not
letting you go again.”
I kiss her again to quiet any protest she has, and then I
begin to speak.
23
 ERIC
SIX YEARS AGO

It’s been twenty days since I left Seph sleeping in that

camper, and I’ve thought of nothing but her. Her phone
number is tucked into my wallet so I can use it tomorrow,
but walking into my new high school, I’m hoping that I
won’t have to use it.
This is Seph’s school. It has an amazing music program,
and when camp ended, I wasn’t sure if I had made it into the
program. I didn’t want to disappoint her or give her false
hope. But I’m here now, and I can’t wait to find her. I want
to see her face when I tell her that I’m going to be here every
day, and yes, I still want to be with her. Yes, I’m still in love
with her. That I’ve been in love with her the entire time and
this is the time to really tell her.
But right now, I’m nearly late for my first class. I’m
looking at the map that the o ce gave me while
simultaneously at the students I pass for the girl who’s face
haunts my dreams. This is a much bigger school than the
one I’m coming from, and it’s probably going to take me a
bit with the navigation.
“You look lost,” a voice says. A pretty blonde approaches
me. “New?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “First day.”
 She bats her eyes and gives me a smile. It would definitely
work on me, if it was something I was looking for. “Where
are you headed? I can point you in the right direction.”
“AP Bio,” I say. “Mr. Sanders.”
Her face lights up. “That’s where I’m going! Come with
me. The science hallway is terrible to find.” She loops her
arm through mine and practically marches me down the
hallways until we reach the correct room. I’m happy she at
least knew where she was going, but I don’t see Seph on the
way, and she doesn’t seem to be in the class either.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
She pulls back and smiles again, not being subtle about
putting her cleavage on display as she does so. “You can call
me Elle.”
“Nice to meet you.”
She pulls me further into the classroom and guides me to
a table, sitting on the stool next to mine. “What brings you
to Anderson High?”
“Music program,” I say. “It’s better than my other high
school.”
“A musician,” she coos. “That’s fantastic. You’ll have to
play for me some time.”
I send her a tight smile. My eyes keep flicking to the door,
hoping that Seph is going to walk through it. My hands are
itching to pull the number out of my wallet and send her a
text that I’m here. But I really want to see her face for the
first time.
A burly man walks through the door and surveys us
coolly. “I hope you like who you’re sitting with,” he says.
“That’s your lab partner.”
Elle smiles wide, and I feel like I walked into a trap.
Because it hadn’t occurred to me. I was so busy thinking
about Seph and directions that I forgot about partners. I sigh.
It’s fine. Once I find Seph, Elle will see that I’m happily
taken, and she’ll stop with the flirting.
Thankfully, since today is the first day of school and the
classes are short, I manage to break away from Elle and find
my next class on my own, and then my next. Still no sign of
Seph.
My next period is lunch, and I’m desperate for her to be
there. As I’m about to enter the lunchroom, Elle slides up to
me and slips her arm through mine again. “I’ve been looking
for you! Let me show you around. I love introducing new
students to people.”
I swallow. “I’m really okay.”
“Don’t be silly. No one needs to be alone on their first
day.”
I take a breath. She’s being nice, and I don’t need to make
any enemies on my first day here. So I nod, and let her take
me into the cafeteria. “By the way,” she says as we work
through the line, “I would love it if we could go out
sometime. I can show you the town. We would have fun.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Great!”
I follow her to a table, and before we get there, I see her.
Red hair, pale skin, book in front of her and one hand
moving with a pen while she writes. My heart kicks up into a
gear that’s so fast that I might pass out. Elle moves forward.
“Seph!”
She looks up, and then sees me and goes pale.
Elle sits down across from her. “Is this going to be our
new table? I like it. It’s very central, but still far enough away
to be cool.” She turns and looks at me, patting the chair
beside her. “Come on, don’t be shy. Seph,” she giggles, “this
is my new boyfriend, Eric.”
What? I stare at Seph, and then I stare at Elle. I sit down
because I think that my knees are about to give out. This
isn’t exactly the reunion that I imagined.
Seph is staring at me like she’s seen a ghost, and I can’t
take my eyes o her. “When exactly did that happen,
Leena?”
Oh shit. Not Elle. L. L for Leena. Oh my god, what just
happened? She’ll say something, though. She’ll tell her that
it’s pretty impossible for me to be Leena’s boyfriend when
I’m already taken.
“Just now,” Leena says, and winks. “You know you have
to get the new ones early.”
Seph looks at me and then smiles, extending her hand
across the table. “Hi. I’m Persephone.”
I take her hand. “Eric.”
Seph looks at her friend and smiles. “You guys look really
cute together.”
“I know, right?” Leena leans close and snaps a selfie of
the two of us together. I think I must look like a mannequin,
because I’m still so shocked that I can’t even move.
The lunch goes by in a blur, but all I can do is stare at
Seph. Her lips. Her hands. Her hair. Her eyes which won’t
meet mine. Finally, she glances at me. “I have to get to class.
Nice to meet you.”
“I should go too,” I say quickly.
Leena grabs my shirt and plants a big kiss on my cheek.
“See you later, baby!”
I don’t even respond as I grab my tray and chase after
Seph. I need to talk to her. I need to find out what the hell is
going on. She’s ahead of me, dumping her tray, and heading
for the door. I dump my tray too and race in her footsteps,
nearly crashing into people. “Seph!” I call when I burst
through the door. “Seph.”
I think I see a glimpse of her hair, but she’s already gone.
She knows the school better than I do, and I don’t know
where her class is. I’ll never find her.
 It feels like I’ve been strung upside-down by my ankles
and shaken. What just happened? Why didn’t she tell Leena
who I am?
Unless…
I feel sick. Unless when she wanted to take time apart, she
wasn’t planning for us to get back together. Maybe that’s the
reason she looked so pale when she saw me.
If she didn’t want to be with me, why wouldn’t she just
say that before we left camp? Why would she put us both
through this? She knew that I would come for her.
I don’t understand it. I feel dizzy. I need to talk to her. I
need to fix this. If I can.
Please.
24
 PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

Eric’s eyes burn with intensity, and his fingers dig into my
arms. He’s desperate to make me hear, and I need to listen. I
have to hear it, no matter what it is. He said he was in love
with me, and my soul suddenly felt light and happy, and
more tears flooded my eyes. I’ve always wanted to hear him
say that. And if there’s any chance that it can be real, then
I’ll take it.
“When we were together, I knew that I might be
transferring to Anderson. But I wasn’t sure, and you were so
nervous about us being apart that I didn’t want to get your
hopes up. And when I got in, I couldn’t wait to see the look
on your face when I found you. I thought you would be so…so
happy that I was there. And that we would be able to see each
other every day just like we had at camp.”
He takes a breath. “Leena found me lost on the way to one
of my classes. She was in it too and made sure that I was her
lab partner. It was clear that she was flirting, but I wasn’t
interested. When I asked her name, she told me to call her
‘L’. I thought it was the name and not the letter. Seph, if I
had known who Leena was, I would have asked her where the
fuck you were. I would have skipped that class to come and
find you and kiss the hell out of you, just like I had been
fantasizing about for weeks.”
The rain starts to lessen as he speaks, and he quiets his
voice because he doesn’t have to project over the sound of
the downpour.
“Leena asked me if I wanted to go on a date with her
going through the cafeteria line. I said that I would think
about it, mostly so that she wouldn’t keep asking. And then
she introduced me as her boyfriend, and I kept waiting for
you to say something. To intervene and clarify. I was so
shocked that I couldn’t speak. Fuck, if I could go back to that
day and do it over again, I would have gotten myself together
and made it precisely, exactly clear that I was not with her.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” His voice is anguished. “I didn’t. But I went after
you. You disappeared and I couldn’t find you to ask what was
going on. And when I saw you after that, you pretended that
you didn’t know me. And when I had seen you in the
cafeteria you looked so pale that I wondered if you had
wanted to break up and didn’t want to tell me. I didn’t know
what to do. You wouldn’t talk to me. You cheered Leena on
with me. It seemed like you were pushing her toward me, so
I gave in.
“I shouldn’t have. But I did. I wasn’t happy. There was
part of me that was always waiting for you to remember
what we had and say something. It felt a little like being in a
dream.”
He takes a breath and holds me closer. I let him. He feels
good in the cold after being wet, even if the Georgia air is
still hot.
“I’m not claiming to be blameless. I never should have
used Leena the way I did. I kept seeing her mostly so that I
could keep seeing you. You went everywhere together, and I
could always count on that. Until…” he hesitates. “This is the
part that you’re not going to want to hear.”
“I still need to hear it,” I say. I had no idea that this is
what he went through. What he thought about me. I can’t
even blame him, because he’s right. I didn’t stand up for
him. Or for us.
“I used Leena to see you, until she wouldn’t let me
anymore. She became more and more possessive. Constantly
demanding things and that I spend time with her and only
her. She got suspicious when I wasn’t with her and was
constantly checking on me. Even when I was only rehearsing.
And I was good at deflecting her. Good enough that I didn’t
bother to break up with her.
“She was my only connection to you, and I knew—deep in
my gut—that if I broke up with her, she would make my life
a living hell. And I couldn’t break up with her to date
someone else, because I didn’t want anyone else. I only
wanted you.”
“But you stayed together for years.”
He shakes his head. “When we all left for school it was in
name only for most of the time. We barely spoke because
neither of us had the time, and she was…occupied.”
“You mean—” I cut myself o . I can’t even say that I’m
that surprised.
“She was cheating? Yes, and frequently. We were only
together a few times through college. Once was a drunken
mistake. Once I was so desperate for a touch and reminder of
anything that had to do with you that I settled for her. And
the last time, I was done.
“She came to visit unexpectedly and blew up at me for not
having the time to drop everything to be with her. To plan
romantic dinners for her and take her out on the town. To
‘fuck her like she deserved.’ And I knew that she hadn’t been
remotely faithful to me. I didn’t care that she wasn’t either,
but I was done being at her beck and call, and I told her so. I
told her that we were finished, and that there would be
nothing more between us. Ever.”
He goes quiet for a moment. “That was when she had
everyone block me. I figured it out when you cut me out of all
the social media. And I wondered if I had made a mistake.
Because I had set myself free, but there was nothing left of
you. Even though by that time I had given up all hope of
seeing you again. But I…I never really moved on. I’ve just
been waiting, because it was always you.”
My tears had dried, but they resurface again now.
“Really? You mean that?”
Eric kisses me hard. An imprinting kiss that sears my
heart. Brands it as his. “Yes, Persephone. I should have told
you a long time ago. I should have told you before I left
camp. I never should have left without saying goodbye. But
I’m saying it now. I love you. I adore you. I don’t want
anyone else but you.”
I’m really crying now, and he kisses me again as a new
wave of rain starts to come down. Taking my hand, he pulls
me back to the car, and he opens the back door. We tumble in
together, barely getting the door closed before he’s on top of
me. Lips and hands and rearranging clothing. And then he’s
pushing into me and I brace my hands on the already
fogging windows. “I love you too,” I manage to say as he
stills inside me, holding the moment still. “I never wanted
you to be with her, I just…I didn’t know what to do when she
came up and said that. Because she had found me before
lunch and told me that she was in love with the new boy. She
gushed about how gorgeous and sweet he was. And later
when she appeared with you, it was too late. I had already
cheered her on and told her to go for it. I felt like I had to tell
her yes. Because when I told her about you and us at camp,
she had cheered me on. And then I saw how much you liked
her—how much I thought you liked her—and I was willing
to stay quiet as long as you both were happy.”
My eyes blur with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, Eric.”
This kiss is soft, and he starts to move. Healing us both
with the pleasure that he brings. “You don’t have to
apologize, Seph. We both made mistakes. And we both are
here now. Let’s not make those mistakes again, okay?”
“Never,” I promise. “Honesty only from here on.”
He tangles a hand in my hair as he drives deep, pushing
in harder and faster, excising all of the pain that we’ve both
felt through this and replacing it with pleasure. With love. I
love him so fucking much that I can’t contain it. So much
that the whole sky would not be enough space for it.
Our climax hits together, a pure white blazing star. A nova
that seals us together in a bond that cannot be broken. Not
anymore. No matter what happens, we will weather it
together.
“I love you,” I say as we’re shaking together. “I love you.
I love you.”
He laughs softly. “And I you.”
“I feel like I’ve been waiting so long to say it, that now I
need to say it more.”
For a moment Eric’s eyes shine, and I think that he’s as
moved as I am. “You can tell me whenever you want,” he
says. “I’m going to be saying it too.”
“There is no space for anything else in me but love.”
He gazes down at me. “Tell me you’re still writing, Seph,
because sentences like that need to be in the world.”
I sigh. We just promised honesty. “I try, but I struggle.
I’ve always wanted to write about the world I see, but I can’t
a ord to do the traveling I want to do. I’m still hopeful
though.”
“I’m glad. If you had stopped writing because of me, I
would never forgive myself.”
 I shake my head. “No. It’s just…hard to find the time.”
“I will help you find the time,” Eric whispers against my
lips. “And maybe the travel. Come back to New York with me
at the end of the summer. Be with me.”
My heart leaps, and I’m nodding before I even register
that I am. “Yes! Yes of course, yes. But you never told me why
you’re not there now.”
Eric closes his eyes. “My dad is sick.”
“What?” I gasp.
He nods. “Cancer. He didn’t want anyone to know. The
prognosis is good, but the treatment kept him from doing
his normal camp thing, and my mom is taking care of him.
So they asked me to take it on.”
“Oh my god, Eric I’m so sorry.”
He smiles thinly. “It’s okay. He’s in good spirits and the
treatment seems to be working. But I couldn’t say no to that.
And as terrible as the reason is, I am very, very glad that it
brought me here.”
“Me too.”
He glances out the windows. “We should get back for the
generator,” he says, pulling out of me and helping me fix my
clothes and fixing his own. “But there’s one more thing that
I want to ask you.”
“Sure.”
“I will take care of the arrangements, but I want you to
move into my cabin.” He cups my face and puts his forehead
against mine. “I don’t think I can survive another night
when you’re not in my bed.”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “I think that we’ve both waited
long enough for that.”
The kiss he gives me for that is almost enough to make
me pull him back down and tell him to fuck me again. But
he’s right, we need to fix the generator, and a couple
counselors are waiting in the parking lot when we get back.
“You two okay? We were about to send out a search party.”
Eric laughs. “Rain slowed us down, but we got what we
needed. Should be up and running soon enough.”
I lock the car and follow along to help him. I feel settled
and happy, but there’s one more thing that I’m going to
have to face, and I have no idea how to do it. What the hell
am I going to do about Leena, now that I know everything?
25
 PERSEPHONE
PRESENT

When I wake up and stretch in my brand-new bed in the

director’s cabin—our bed—and am alone, there’s a sense of
déjà vu. But this time I know why I’m alone. Because Eric is
already up and about, doing the rounds for the camp. I’m
taking the day o from counselor duties, and Mabel was
more than happy take over my responsibilities for the day.
I’m not exactly sure what Eric said to her, but she was
beaming.
When I turn over, my hand brushes something hard, and I
sit up, finding a gift on Eric’s side of the bed. Which brings
another wave of memories. I’m sure that the significance is
not lost on him either. It’s a notebook. Not like the ones I
had before. This one is much nicer. It’s leather, blue gilded
with gold and thick, creamy paper that makes me want to
write everything and keep it perfect all at once.
When I see him, I am going to pounce on that man. Last
night, we had so much sex that I thought I would be set for
the next few days. One look at this present tells me that I’m
wrong.
I toss on comfortable clothes and grab a pen, because I
have a plan, and I want to get a move on it. I’m going back to
the waterfall. I don’t want to leave a bad taste in my
memories there, and so I make my way down that trail and
perch on the rock, new book in hand.
And for the first time in forever, the words flow smoothly.
I write about love, and about the waterfall and the
strangeness of returning to a place after a long time. And the
beauty of hope in the darkness. Of dreams and everything
more.
I write until my hand starts to cramp and my stomach
grumbles in hunger. It’s time for lunch anyway. Maybe Eric
will be there. We haven’t talked about whether we’ll be
making our relationship public to the rest of the camp, but
we need to talk about it. Now that he’s mine—really and
truly mine—I don’t want to be stopped from holding hands
or kissing him. Though I don’t plan on dragging him out to
fuck under the dock again.
Making my way back to the mess hall, I hear a long sound
of a car pulling into the parking lot. Nearly skidding. That’s
weird. We aren’t expecting any deliveries or visitors today. I
step around a few trees into the parking lot and find a sleek
black Mercedes parked haphazardly in front of the trail. And
a blonde woman gets out of the car.
My stomach drops through the ground. It’s Leena.
“Seph! Hey! Man, this is a fucking trip, isn’t it? It looks
exactly the way I remember it.” Her smile is huge, and I
remember how that smile used to make me feel warm and
safe. But now, knowing what I know, I have to wonder how
much of our friendship was just Leena using me as a witness
to her life.
Things started to fall into place when Eric told me
everything. The lack of concern or checking in about my life.
The way she brushed o my problems to focus on hers. The
fact that she always promised to help me with publishing but
never seemed to follow through. I had always justified it
somehow. She had bigger problems, bigger concerns, she
was busy. But I think that this is just who she is.
And now that I’ve seen it, it’s all that’s visible.
That same smile now makes me cringe.
“Leena,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. “What are
you doing here?”
She grins maniacally. “I was texting Eric and he didn’t
answer, so I decided to stop by. I want to see the tramp he’s
fucking and show him how much better it could be. I think
he needs a little reminder of what he’s missing.”
She brushes past me down the path, and I follow. I’m not
letting her out of my sight. Just then Eric comes around the
corner of the mess hall and sees me. He starts to wave and
then sees Leena, and I’ve never seen him look like that.
Suddenly pale, like devastation and shock and horror. I never
want to see that look on his face again.
I put myself between her and him. “Now that you’re here,
do you want to see our old cabin? I think our names are still
carved where we left them.”
The look on her face speaks of bugs that need to be
crushed. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“What do you mean that you just wanted to stop by? I
thought that you were in Miami?”
She doesn’t answer me, practically shoving me out of her
way to stomp toward Eric. “Hi, asshole.”
He’s still frozen, but he manages to speak. “Leena.”
“Listen,” she says, “this is what happens when you
ignore somebody like me. I’m the best thing that ever fucking
happened to you, and I don’t care what you say, you’ll never
be done with me. When I call, you answer. When I dare to
send you a sexy photograph, you say ‘Thank you, Leena, for
sharing your beauty with me.’”
As she speaks, I have no idea how I called this person my
best friend. There’s nothing but poison in her words and in
her tone, and there are people gathering now. Leena isn’t
quiet, and the campers gathered for lunch are spilling out of
the mess hall, drawn by the noise.
“You are a worthless, spineless, piece of shit who doesn’t
know how to treat a woman. Show me the person you’ve
been fucking around with so I can revel in how low you’ve
sunk. I dare you.”
I look at the faces of the campers, and I find them to be
troubled and confused. Everybody here loves Eric, and the
fact that he’s being yelled at like this isn’t good for them to
see or hear. Especially when it’s not remotely true. After the
bonfire he’s their hero. That image is evaporating by the
second.
The look on his face, he’s not defending himself. He’s
used to not defending himself against her because this is
what he always thought that she would do. This is Eric’s
worst nightmare.
“Come on,” Leena says. “Show me what you’ve done with
yourself now that you’re a failed musician heading up a
camp for children, no doubt fucking the bottom of the trash
pile as a substitute for a real woman.”
“That is enough.” The words fly out of me so hard that
they echo o the trees. Every eye in the camp turns to me,
and Leena is the last to turn.
“Excuse me?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She takes a step toward me and stands her ground. “What
did you say?”
“You have no right to come here and hurl insults and lies
at people. Especially at people who have nothing to do with
you anymore. Eric is brilliant, kind, and talented. He is good
to his friends and makes unfathomable sacrifices for his
family with no thought about himself.
 “You can’t throw stones in glass houses, Leena. You
treated Eric like shit for years. While cheating on him. I can’t
even list all the things that you’ve done that fall under the
category of being a ‘worthless, spineless, piece of shit.’ So
don’t come here spouting lies to people who know the
truth.”
She looks livid, like she’s about to blow up again, so I
keep going. “You were a shitty girlfriend. And even the bad
things I saw—which I’m sure was only a fraction—I
supported the two of you because I thought that Eric was
happy. But I know the truth now. You’re not only a shitty
girlfriend, you’re a shitty person for coming all the way here
and trying to ruin his reputation.”
Leena rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ. Why are you defending
him? Are you in love with him or something?”
Straightening my spine, I stare at her straight on. “As a
matter of fact, I am. And I have it on good authority that he
loves me too.”
There’s sudden applause, and I realize that the campers
are cheering the fact that Eric and I are together, and Eric
looks more normal now. He’s looking at me with awe and
love and gratitude.
Leena is as red as a tomato, and then someone in the
crowd says. “Go home!” And just like kids do, others pick up
the call. Until it’s an overwhelming chant. “Go! Home! Go!
Home!”
Her face is white with rage, hands curled into fists. She
stomps toward me and her car, and the whole camp cheers.
She stops next to me, and if looks could kill, then I’d already
be dead. A cruel smile before she speaks. “If you want him,
you can have him. He’s my leftovers, and you’re just a
pathetic scavenger.”
“You know that summer before you met, and the boy I fell
madly in love with? That was Eric. I was his first everything.
And his relationship with you was one giant
misunderstanding and bad teenage communication, so if you
want to talk about scavenging, look in a mirror.”
Leena goes pale and sti like a corpse, before storming to
the car and slamming the door so hard that I’m shocked she
doesn’t break the windows. She peels out—as much as you
can peel out of a dirt parking lot—to the roaring cheers of
everyone in the camp, teens and counsellors alike.
I watch her until she’s out of sight, and when I turn
around, Eric is right there. He sweeps me into a kiss, dipping
me back in a show of romance that’s meant as a thank you
and to publicly confirm everything that I just said. There are
equal amounts of cheering and gagging noises from our
audience, and it makes us break apart laughing.
“You’re something else, Seph,” he whispers. “Thank
you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I owed you.”
Eric frowns. “For what?”
“For saving my life in the lake.”
He laughs so loudly it echoes, and not caring who is
watching, he kisses me again.
 EPILOGUE
ERIC

Three Months Later

“Eric, get in here!” Seph calls from the living room. Her
voice is so frantic that I sprint from our bedroom in our new
New York apartment and skid to a stop.
“What? What happened?”
She jumps into my arms and I barely catch her. “Listen!”
I suddenly focus on the threads of music floating through
the room. “Holy shit.”
It’s our song. While we were finishing up at camp, Seph
encouraged me to send the song that I wrote for her all those
years ago to my agent. I wanted it to be only for her, but she
claimed that it was too good to keep all to herself.
My agent agreed. And once I was finally able to be honest
about my leave of absence, he was more than understanding.
But the last month has been a whirlwind. As soon as we
finished at Red Rock, Seph moved with me to New York. We
found an apartment that’s a better size for the two of us, and
my agent booked recording sessions for the song. He’s even
o ered to help Seph look for a literary agent when she’s
ready.
That will be soon. She’s been writing almost non-stop
since we arrived, filling pages and pages and pages with
fiction. She’s going to be brilliant.
I’ve had more gigs than I can handle, and Seph has been
at every single one, listening and singing along with my
songs. It’s exactly how I dreamed it would be all those years
ago when I asked if she would be with me. Because no matter
how big the crowd, I get the biggest thrill out of performing
for her.
Things have slowed down a little, and I’ve just started to
show her the city. My city. Not the touristy parts. The little
places that I love. But I’ll admit that it’s a little hard to leave
the apartment when she’s here. Because there’s a lot of sex.
We have a lot to make up for, and I don’t think that I’ll
ever get tired of sinking into her. Every time it’s a miracle
that I do not take for granted.
The song sounds so good on the radio, and the response
has been really positive. But this song will never not remind
me of the reason that I wrote it. I carry Seph over to the
couch and lay her down, pulling up the long, loose dress that
she has on.
She laughs, but it’s breathless. “What are you doing? Your
song is on the radio.”
“It’s our song,” I growl. “And it’s about me taking your
virginity. I think this is entirely appropriate for hearing it for
the first time.”
I don’t give her a chance to protest, licking her through
the dainty lace thong that she’s wearing. Such a sexy little
piece of fabric, and such an annoying barrier when I’m
trying to get to my favorite flavor in the world. The only
reason I don’t rip them o her is because I’ve destroyed too
many pairs of her panties already. I’m tempted to do it
anyway, just to hear the moan she makes when I do.
Shoving them down, I ravage her clit with my tongue,
diving straight into the patterns that I know that she likes
best. There are a few, and I choose the one that’s fast and
swirling and never fails to make her come. Loudly. Today is
no exception.
“Fuck, you’re too good at that,” she says, panting and
arching underneath me.
“I don’t think that there is such a thing.”
Slipping a finger, and then two, inside her pussy, I fuck
her with the beat of the song, curling my fingers up and
back, thrusting directly across her G-spot. She’s going to
come before the end of the song. I guarantee it.
“Oooooh.” Her voice is one long exclamation, and I don’t
let up or give her a moment to breathe. Straight up and over
the cli . I love that moment when she falls into climax. Her
pussy gushes wetness and clenches my fingers, and I savor
the taste of her. It’s always been the best fucking taste in the
world.
Her cries echo o the walls of our small apartment, and I
wonder for about the hundredth time since we’ve moved in if
our neighbors hate us yet. We’re not quiet, and I don’t ever
intend to be. I like it when Seph is loud. It lets me know that
I’ve done a good job fucking my woman. My woman.
And she is my woman. The glittering ring on her hand
tells me that. I proposed the day that we moved into this
apartment, and she said yes. Then we fucked on every
surface that we could find before we even unpacked any
boxes. We’ve waited long enough to be together—no need to
wait another six years to make it o cial. As far as we’re
concerned, it already is.
While she’s still limp and shuddering, I switch out
positions so I’m on the couch and she’s straddling me. It’s
easy to slip inside her, and I curse loudly, because she feels
so fucking good. She knows how to grip me, squeezing down
on me just the way I like as I drive up into her.
The dress she’s wearing has a deep neckline that teases
me with just a glimpse of her breasts, tightening and
releasing as they bounce. God, I could stare at her forever.
The song is over now on the radio, but I don’t stop. This is
the best celebration that there is. But Seph suddenly slows
me, and settles down onto me so that she’s taken my whole
cock to the hilt. “Oh fuck,” she whispers.
We don’t use this position often. I need to make sure we
do it more. She’s trembling, and I like the way she’s arched
back. Impaled by me. She likes it when I don’t hold back.
When I take charge and pull us both along into pleasure.
Slowly, Seph rolls her hips, and this time it’s my turn to
groan. I’m so deep that the way she moves—that friction
and motion is mind-blowing. It brings up pleasure from a
deep place. One I don’t often find.
Settling my hands on her hips, I help her. I pull her down
onto me with every smooth motion she makes, and we build
together to the inevitable climax. She needs to go first.
I reach out with one hand and slip my fingers into her
mouth. She knows what it means, wetting them with her
tongue. The unspoken command hangs between us, adding
to our arousal. I like teasing her with fingers she’s sucked,
and she does too.
She’s crying out now, so close that I can feel her thighs
shaking against mine, and when I slip my hand under her
dress to tease her clit, she goes over. A climax that makes her
scream, riding my cock hard, taking everything that she
needs and more. Squeezing, thrusting, grinding, before
going limp, face pressed into my neck.
She takes every thrust I’m still making, moaning in
pleasure as I release myself. So close, and then I’m there.
One final push, and pleasure lasers through my gut. Acute
and shocking, and enough to make me cry out too.
Our neighbors really are going to fucking hate us. Or wish
they were us.
We don’t move for a long time after that. My arms are
around her body, and she keeps squeezing my cock while it’s
still inside her.
“I was going to ask you if you wanted to go for an
exploring session later, but I think a nap might be better.”
She laughs against my skin. “Or a nap and then some
exploring.”
“That could work,” I admit.
“Or,” she says, “a nap, then a shower, and then some
exploring.”
I whisper the words in her ear. “I think the shower might
have to wait until after we come back from exploring.”
“Why?”
I weave my fingers into her hair and pull her face where I
can look into those gorgeous green eyes. “Because if I have
access to your wet, soapy body, we’ll never leave the
apartment.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Fuck yes I am, and you love it.”
Seph looks at me. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” My heart swells with the words. Now
that we can finally say them.
“Forever?” she asks.
“Forever.”

Years ago, she promised him her hand in marriage.

Now, he’s ready to collect.
FORBIDDEN BRIDE is a HOT age gap romance that you will
love. Read the blurb below!

Want to be the first to learn when a new title is

released? Follow me on Amazon!

Forbidden Bride blurb

Years ago she promised me her hand in marriage. Now I'm

here to collect.
When I close my eyes, there's only one face I see.
Nicola-- the girl I was forbidden from having.
She's the daughter of my best friend. When she was nearly
18, she confessed she had a crush on me. I knew better than
to pretend I wanted her, so I ignored her heartfelt
confession.
With tears in her eyes, she promised she'd save herself for
me.
Only me.
Afraid of wrecking my friendship with her father, I left town.
But after years of a brooding bachelor life, of trying to find
someone or something to fill the hole in my heart, I'm done
pretending I don't want Nicola.
The problem?
Her father is now her boss, and she isn't about to risk her
career for a life with me.
That's too bad... because I'm determined to put a ring on her
finger.
A promise is a promise.

Read Forbidden Bride here!

Copyright © 2019 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no
part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any
form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is
completely coincidental.

Sign up HERE!
 1

PETER
PRESENT

The girl is looking at me. I call her a girl and not a woman
because that’s what she is. Probably recently graduated from
college and moved to Los Angeles for fame and fortune. I
sigh, and try to focus back on the script in front of me. But
once you can feel someone staring at you, it becomes harder
and harder to ignore it. Looks like I’m going to have to find a
new co ee shop. Again. One of the double-sided perks of
fame, I guess.
This used to be one of my favorite spots in Los Angeles.
It’s small and quiet enough that it’s easy to sit and
memorize lines. The sta , if they recognize me—and I by no
means expect them to—doesn’t comment or treat me
di erently. And up until a couple of weeks ago, none of the
patrons did either. But that was before the announcement.
The new show I signed on to—my new show as I allow it to
be called in my mind—Undercover, propelled me from
vaguely recognizable and the “Oh, you’re that one guy from
that one show,” to “Oh my god you’re Peter Holleman!”
basically overnight. Honestly, I’ll take it.
We haven’t shot anything yet, so the promo posters are
simply images of me, but the marketing department is good
at what they do, and the advertisements struck a chord. I can
only hope that the show strikes a bigger one.
I really love the script for this show. It’s smart and witty
and has more than enough material for me to work with. I
play Alex, a jaded New York detective who’s sent deep
undercover to dismantle part of the Mob. The plan is to get
close to the mark through his daughter Genova, but Alex gets
too close, and by the end of season one, he’s going to be in
way too deep. And he’s going to be completely in love with
Genova.
Shooting starts today, and I’m excited, but I’m still
struggling with some of my lines. Which is why I’m here,
being distracted by the looks the busty redhead is obviously
throwing my way. I glance down at my phone. There are a
couple of texts from my agent, Michael, reminding me when
I need to be at the studio. I struggle not to roll my eyes. As if
I would forget my call time on the first day filming the
biggest show of my career.
Female laughter distracts me again, and I glance toward
the table where the redhead is sitting with her friends, and
stifle a sigh. She’s standing now, and I recognize the body
language. She’s getting ready to make her approach. A lot of
these girls have the same kind of deal. Basically groupies,
they’re not interested in anything but being able to say they
slept with you. Maybe they’ll get their fifteen minutes of
fame from some of the tabloids. She’s going to be
disappointed.
At this stage of my career, I have everything to lose. So I
don’t sleep with groupies. That’s not to say that I lead a
celibate life—I’m not going to torture myself—but I’m not
going to jump into the back of a car with girls who approach
me in co ee shops.
I take a deep breath and a sip of co ee as she approaches,
pretending that I don’t see her. I’ll do my best to let her
down easy.
She clears her throat. “Excuse me?”
I look up and give her a mild smile. “Yes?”
“You’re Peter Holleman, aren’t you? From Tales of
Briony?”
“I am.” I had a small part on Tales of Briony, but the
character became a fan favorite. Probably because I was
shirtless in the majority of scenes. She smiles, and holy shit
she looks like Amber. I feel like the breath has been knocked
out of me, but I keep the smile on my face. “Can I help you?”
Clearing her throat again, she inches closer. “I just
wanted to come over and tell you that I’m a huge fan of
yours.”
“Well thank you,” I say. “That’s very nice to hear.”
Behind her, I see one of the sta watching the interaction,
and I appreciate that they know. But I give a subtle wave with
my hand. I’ve got it.
“I was also wondering,” she says, a sudden blush
painting her cheeks, “I’ve heard that you’re single?”
“Correct.” There’s no point in lying about that. The only
thing that happens if I lie is she goes to a tabloid saying I
now have a girlfriend, and there’s a whole run of speculation
about it. It’s a delicate time right now. I’m not famous
enough to be followed by a bunch of paparazzi yet, but I’m
just famous enough that things can easily be made up about
me because I’m not a household name.
She takes a brazen step forward and leans down to my
level, her breasts nearly pouring out of her shirt in a way
that is one hundred percent intentional. “My apartment is
only a couple of blocks from here. I can be your Cassidy
tonight.”
The light catches her hair and turns it burgundy, and I’m
back with Amber on our hilltop, and I have to blink away the
image. “I appreciate the o er,” I say, “but no thank you.”
 “Come on,” she says, voice low and silky. “I can make
you feel so good. Better than you’ve ever felt before,” she
whispers in my ear.
I take an even breath before speaking, and I’m careful not
to move an inch. I don’t want anything to be misconstrued.
“What’s your name?”
“Cynthia.”
“Cynthia,” I clear my throat. “Once again, I appreciate
your o er. But ‘no thank you’ wasn’t an invitation for you to
try to convince me, nor was it an invitation to touch me.
Please back up.”
She blinks, like she doesn’t understand. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
I grit my teeth. I’m definitely going to have to find a
di erent co ee shop. But I still don’t move. I can’t touch her.
I know how fast these things spin out of control, and there’s
no way I’m going to let this spin into a story with a headline
that reads ‘Peter Holleman assaults female fan asking for
autograph.’
Cynthia lowers her eyes like she’s embarrassed and sorry,
but when she looks at me again they’re full of determined
fire. “I bet I can convince you.” I catch her wrist as soon as I
see her hand moving downwards, probably reaching for my
cock. Jesus, she can’t take a hint.
Suddenly, the manager is next to us. “Ma’am, I’m going
to have to ask you to leave.”
Cynthia’s eyes snap away from me, and she’s suddenly
livid. “Excuse you?”
The manager smiles sweetly. “We have a zero-tolerance
policy for harassment here, and even though Mr. Holleman
has been more than polite in asking you to leave him alone,
you’ve only escalated. Please gather your things and follow
me.”
She sco s. “Follow you where?”
 The manager gives her a cool look. “To my o ce. I’ll be
taking your picture. You won’t be welcome in this
establishment again.”
“What?” Suddenly her eyes fill with tears, and she turns
to me. “I didn’t mean it, please don’t let them do this.”
I sigh, and close my eyes. “I don’t work here. It’s not my
decision,” I say.
The manager gently leads her back to her table where a
couple other employees are looking on, making sure the
whole group gets their things and heads back to the o ce.
Cynthia is still crying. Part of me is sympathetic. She’s young
and not really used to consequences. The other part of me
wants to take a shower. Not exactly what I was expecting
from my morning co ee.
The manager, who’s name I read as Daisy, approaches me
again.
“I apologize. We like to create a safe environment, and I
hope that you’ll still consider this a place that you can visit.
We’re proud to host celebrities here and will always protect
your privacy.”
I think that’s the first time someone has called me a
celebrity to my face. That’s…odd. “Thank you, Daisy.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Holleman.” She walks away from
me and toward the o ce with determination in her step.
I throw back the rest of my co ee and tuck my script into
my bag. I’ll look over the lines when I get to the studio.
While I’m walking to my car, I text Michael and give him a
heads up about the incident, telling him I’ll fill him in once I
arrive. My publicist, Wendy, should be put on alert so if there
were cameras or if Cynthia and her friends go to the press,
there are no serious repercussions.
I pull onto the road and into tra c. Now that I’m out, the
memories of Amber that Cynthia brought up surface. I’ve got
time to kill, and apparently I’m a masochist, so I let myself
get sucked into the memories, as painful as they might be.
 2

PETER
11TH GRADE

I find the shaded corner like I always do, leaning against the
wall with rock music blaring in my ears. I have to wait. Well,
I don’t have to, but I want to. I’m not going to let all of these
rich kids with their rich parents and their rich cars see that I
have to walk home. Better to let them think I’m doing
something after school. Half of these kids wouldn’t look at
me if they knew the truth. The other half would look at me
with pity and only be friends with me because I’m the
charity case.
I’m not about that. The only way I’ll remotely fit in here
is by staying under the radar. Not that I’ll ever really fit in
here. Massachusetts is too cold. And I’m not exactly a fan of
winter. Winter down in Virginia is cold, but mostly rain and
sleet. Not a whole lot of snow. Here we’re practically buried
in it, and it’s only October. Although people have told me
that it’s not typical, I’m not sure that I believe them. I
wonder what my mom would say. She grew up here.
Then again, I’m not sure that I could really trust whatever
she would say. I haven’t been able to so far. She’s the entire
reason I’m here. Watching a couple of the kids from my class
climb into a Mercedes, I grit my teeth.
 My mom said she was going out for groceries six months
ago and just never came back. I was okay, I had a job, and I
was able to eat, but the rent caught up with me. Then the
landlord found out, and Child Protection Services, and now
I’m living in Salem, Massachusetts with my mom’s sister
and hating every second of it.
She’s nice, Aunt Lily, and deep down I know it’s stupid to
be angry at her, but I am. I’m angry she made me leave.
Because there’s still a chance that mom could come back,
and what is she going to think if she shows up and I’m not
there?
A couple of guys from the basketball team walk by and
give me a nod. I got pulled into school here too late to join
any sports, but I’ve already been approached by more than
one of the teams for next year. Maybe. If I’m still here. But I
know the main reason they’re friendly to me right now is
because they want me on their team. It’s been a long time
since I’ve had any friends who wanted to be friends just
because of me. But that’s okay. I don’t need friends. I can
survive.
A hand slaps into my chest, sticking a piece of paper to it,
and I jump. There’s a girl standing to my right, and she must
be part ninja, or I must be really out of it because I didn’t see
her coming up to me at all. Her mouth is moving, but I can’t
hear her over the music. I’ve seen her before around school
but we’ve never spoken.
She’s beautiful. Long red hair that makes me want to run
my fingers through it, and I know I’ve looked lower when
she’s not bundled up against the cold. She’s got the kind of
body that every guy my age wants to touch, and I force my
eyes upward as I realize they’re wandering.
I take out one headphone so I can hear her. Her hand is
still pushed against my chest, and I take the paper she’s
pushing at me.
 “You shouldn’t ignore people,” she says.
I blink. “I wasn’t. I didn’t see you.”
“Good,” she smiles. “Did you hear me asking you to come
to Drama Club?”
I laugh, even though I’m distracted by her smile. “No.
And thanks, but I’m not interested.”
“You got someplace else to be?” she asks, raising an
eyebrow. “Or are you going to wait here till the whole school
is empty and then walk away again.”
My mouth draws open for a second before I manage to
control my face. “You’ve been watching me?”
She grins. “In a stalker way? No. In a way that I’m
generally pretty observant? Yeah.”
I stare at her because I don’t know what to say. Up until
this moment at this school, I’ve always felt completely
invisible. It never occurred to me that anyone would notice
the fact that I wait to leave, let alone confront me about it.
She’s still smiling. “Am I wrong?”
I shake my head. “No, but I don’t think I’m a drama kind
of guy.”
“Maybe not,” she says, “but what have you got to lose by
trying? We need more guys, especially guys like you.”
I look down at the paper she’s shoved at me. It’s a
permission form for an audition. “Guys like me?”
“Yeah,” she says, looking me straight in the eye. “Good
looking guys who might be able to pull o playing a
romantic lead.”
Who the hell is this girl? There’s no way I’m the kind of
guy that she just described. Wait, did she just say good
looking?
“I’m Amber, by the way,” she says, holding out her hand.
I shake it. “Peter.” I’m not quite sure what to do here. The
way Amber is looking at me, like she’s completely sure that
I’m going to give in and follow her is di erent than most
girls I’ve met here. If I say no she’ll be disappointed, but
she’ll live. But I also get the sense that if I say no, I won’t be
hearing from Amber ever again. I’m not sure that I want that
to happen.
The show listed on the paper is Pride and Prejudice. “I
didn’t realize this was a play,” I say.
“Yeah. It’s not bad,” Amber says. “I like the script.”
I stare down at the paper, figuring out my next move.
Amber crosses her arms over her chest. “How long are
you going to make me stand in the cold before you admit
that you’ve already decided to come with me?”
That makes me smile. “How do you know that I’ve
decided?”
“Like I said, I’m observant. You’ve done pretty much
everything to not be involved here at school, and I’ve seen
you push away people who’ve tried to recruit you before. But
you’re still talking to me.”
I shake my head. “Why do you notice things like that?”
“It’s just the way I am,” she says. “And I think you’re
cute. But really, I’ve been the new kid at school, and I know
it sucks. I try to keep tabs on the new kids, just to make sure
that they’re doing okay. If they’re not, then I do something.”
My brain is stuck on the fact that she thinks I’m cute.
“You think I’m cute?”
A blush colors her cheeks and it’s brighter because we’re
both surrounded by snow. “I do. Something you should know
about me, I’m very blunt. So yes, I think you’re cute, but I
also think you’re not doing so well here. I think Drama could
be good for you. We don’t bite, I promise.”
“What would you do if I still said no, after all that?”
Amber tilts her head to the side, and I follow the way her
hair falls with my eyes, watch the snowflakes that get caught
in the strands. “I’d accept it, but I’d be disappointed.”
 That settles it, then. “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing
you,” I say with a grin. “Lead the way. I’ll give it a shot at
least.”
Her face lights up with smile that shines out of her eyes.
“Perfect.”
I follow her through the snow and back into the school,
pulling out my phone to text my aunt that I’ll be home later
than normal, and why.
We pass the science hallway and make our way toward the
auditorium. I follow Amber through the back doors, and find
a group of people relaxing in chairs. It’s more people than I
expected, though honestly they look the way I imagined.
As we enter, everyone turns around to look, and I freeze.
Amber doesn’t. The teacher raises an eyebrow. “I was
wondering where you were.”
“I had my eye on someone,” Amber says, grinning back at
me. “This is Peter.”
I give a small wave, and the teacher steps forward to
shake my hand. “I’m Mr. Davidson. I teach music and
drama, but I haven’t had you yet?”
“Transfer student,” I say.
“Ah, well you’re just in time. Today is audition day! Let’s
get started, gang.” He makes a grand, un-ironic gesture that
would probably be embarrassing coming from anyone else,
but it works for him.
People grab their stu and start migrating to the front of
the auditorium, and I glance over at Amber, wondering what
in the hell I just got myself into.
 3

PETER
PRESENT

I walk into the studio, still shaking o the encounter at the

co ee shop. Not exactly the way I was hoping to start my
day. I sign in, and make my way through to the set. I love the
sets, everyone there has a specific job that they’re doing and
running around trying to do it in record time.
I should head over to wardrobe and make-up, but first I
want to say hello to the director. Clay Markham is a
Hollywood legend, and the fact that he was directing was
what interested me in the project originally. Even before I
read the script and saw how good it was.
A few of the crew nod to me as I pass. Another thing about
sets, there aren’t—generally—any people who are star
struck here. Occasionally I’ve worked with extras that had a
bit of shine in their eyes, but on the whole, I’ve been lucky to
work with people who have been very professional.
I take a minute to look at the set. If I hadn’t just walked in
from a bright and sunny L.A. day, I would swear that we were
three thousand miles away in New York City. The production
department nailed the gritty atmosphere of a NYC Police
Precinct, and it’s fantastic. Actors can and should be able to
act in any environment, but to be placed in a setting like this
makes it so much easier.
 I’m blinded by the lights, and I step out of them and head
back toward the cameras only to be stopped in my tracks.
Clay Markham isn’t sitting in the director’s chair. Instead
it’s a woman, long red hair pinned up into a bun, and she’s
smiling at a PA, completely oblivious to the fact that the
floor has just dropped from under my feet. Amber Dwyer. My
Amber. The Amber I never thought I would see again, is
sitting in the director’s chair. She hasn’t noticed me, but
that’s okay. I can take this moment just to look at her.
She looks amazing. Still gorgeous, still perfect, even if I
don’t know what she’s doing here.
“Peter!” A voice calls from behind her, and she looks up
directly at me. She smiles at me, a small, professional smile,
and waves before continuing her conversation with the PA.
She doesn’t recognize me. I try to ignore the stab of pain that
accompanies that realization as my agent Michael strides up
to me, barely glancing up from his phone. “Glad to see
you’re on time. You look great. You look ready.”
“When have I ever been late? Michael, that’s not Clay
Markham.”
“No, it’s not.” He’s still staring at his phone, and he
shrugs. “Di erent project came his way, something he
wanted more. So he brought in a replacement. Apparently
he’s worked with her before, thinks she’s great. Name is
Amber Dwyer.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mumble under my breath, but he
doesn’t hear me, charging on.
“What’s the deal with this co ee shop girl? The last thing
we need is bad press right now.”
“It shouldn’t be a big deal,” I tell him, briefly recounting
the incident. “I didn’t make a move to touch her, and the
management of the co ee shop intervened before I felt like I
needed to. She’s been banned from the premises.”
 He nods. “Perfect. I’ll tell Wendy, I’m sure she can put a
decent spin on it.”
“I didn’t see any photographers.”
Michael sighs, ever disappointed with my lack of
Hollywood knowledge. I’ll get there, but I honestly haven’t
been doing this that long. “There don’t need to be
photographers anymore. I’m sure her friends took plenty of
pictures. But Wendy will get out in front of it. Now, let’s
introduce you to the new director so we can get you to
wardrobe.”
I can’t remember the last time I was nervous, but there
are butterflies in my stomach as Michael brings me over to
Amber’s chair. “Amber Dwyer,” Michael says. “This is Peter
Holleman.”
She reaches out a hand to shake mine, and I take it firmly.
I think she’s about to say something, but I beat her to it.
“I’ve heard of you,” I say with a smile. “I’m a huge fan of
your work.”
I can feel Michael look at me out of the corner of my eye.
He’s surprised and confused by my comment, but I’m
watching Amber. I watch her eyes flicker over my features,
and I see the exact second that it clicks. “Oh my god, Peter,”
she says.
“Hi.”
She stands and we both go for a hug at the same time. It’s
a little awkward, we bump arms, and the embrace is way too
short, but it’s there. It seems like a miracle. I was just
thinking about her, and here she is, like I conjured her out of
my memory and into being.
Michael clears his throat. “It seems like I’m missing
something.”
Amber laughs, stepping away and keeping a more than
professional distance between us. “Peter and I went to high
school together,” she says, looking at me “It’s been…”
 “Ten years,” I say out loud. Adding in my head, six
months, and thirteen days. I know the moment I last saw her. I
memorized it, because until now, I thought it was the last
moment that I’d ever have.
“That’s a long time,” she says, with a smile that doesn’t
seem to hate me. There’s a chance that she’s not still mad
about everything that happened. That would be good,
because we’re stuck together now whether we want to be or
not. And I want to be. Though I wouldn’t blame her if she
were still angry.
“It is,” Michael interjects. “But—”
“But,” Amber says, “unfortunately, the schedule we’re on
doesn’t have time for catching up built in. But I would love to
at some point.”
I’ve seen the way she’s holding herself before. It’s been
ten years, but I feel like I still know her. I memorized all her
tells. She’s holding back right now. “Absolutely,” I say. “And
if you have any thoughts on my character, I’d love to hear
them.”
“When you get back from wardrobe, we’ll talk about it.”
“Sounds good.” I know I’m probably reading into the fact
that she wants to talk to me, that I’m imagining the way
she’s looking at me like she wants to discuss the past
without somebody like Michael overhearing. “Nice to see you
again.”
“You too.”
Michael puts his hand on my shoulder and guides me
away. “You know the new director and you didn’t tell me?”
“You seemed more interested in the groupie who was
trying to fuck me.”
“Next time you have information like that, maybe
interrupt me to tell me? I looked like an idiot.”
I roll my eyes. “You looked fine. It took her a minute to
even recognize me, you’re fine.”
 Michael stops me in the hallway, and what seems like a
rare moment of clarity he’s looking straight at me. “You two
have history?”
There’s no way I’m going to delve into the details of my
past with Amber with Michael of all people, so I just nod and
say, “Enough.”
“Peter,” he says. “This is huge. This show could make or
break you. Swear to me. Swear to me that this isn’t going to
make you mess it up.”
Everything in my body tenses, and I shove down the
sudden, fierce anger that springs up into my chest. “I know
how big it is. I’m not an idiot, Michael. Having Amber direct
me is pretty far down the list of things that would mess this
up.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I just
needed to make sure you’re thinking with your head and not
your dick.”
“Are you serious right now?” I turn away and walk a few
steps before turning back to him. “First, my sex life, outside
of groupies assaulting me, is none of your business. Second,
the fact that you automatically assume I’m thinking about
sleeping with the brand new female director is beyond out of
line.”
Michael raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re overreacting a
bit.”
“I’m really not. Amber and I have history, and how that
history plays out in private is our business. How we will
conduct ourselves on set and with regard to the show will be
entirely professional. I’m sure she would agree. And if I hear
you insinuate otherwise again, I’ll be pissed.”
Michael has been my agent long enough that he knows
when I’m serious about something. So he drops his hands
and nods. “Okay.” His tone tells me he gets it and that he’ll
drop it. “I’ve got to get back to the o ce. You’re okay with
everything?”
“Should be fine. I’ll text if I need something."
He claps me on the shoulder. “Knock ‘em dead.” And then
he’s retreating the way we came, cell phone in his hand,
already moving on as if I didn’t just tear into him thirty
seconds ago. That’s what makes him a great agent. Almost
nothing fazes him.
I finish the walk to wardrobe, and I zone out while final
adjustments are made for today’s costume. And then I’m in
make-up, and I should be going over my lines, but I can’t
stop thinking about Amber.
For the last ten years, I’ve never forgotten her. Every girl I
ever dated was compared to her, consciously or not. And
there was always something missing for me. I never wanted
to admit that it was because they weren’t Amber, even if I
knew. Because thinking about her was painful, and I thought
she was gone. I looked, but I never found her. Turns out we
were in the same city, like fate doing me a favor.
I know that Michael has a point, that this is the biggest
moment of my career and I shouldn’t mess it up. But I refuse
to believe that Amber could mess up anything in my life. And
now that she’s back in my life, there’s no way I’m wasting
the chance I’ve been given to win her back.
 4

PETER
11TH GRADE

You have got to be kidding me.

I'm standing in the hallway outside the auditorium,
looking at a bulletin board that I think might have just
changed my life. The cast list for Pride and Prejudice was
posted earlier today, and I've been completely avoiding
looking at it until now. Half of me both expected and hoped
that my name wouldn't be on the list, and half of me hoped
that it would be.
The kids in Drama Club were really nice to me on audition
day, and Amber is a force of nature. She ran me through the
gauntlet of auditioning like it was second nature. I got up on
the stage and was shaking like a leaf, but she read lines with
me, and it wasn't so bad. I was sti , awkward, and awful, to
be sure, but I imagined it to be way worse. Just the fact that I
got a call back the next day was good enough for me. I didn’t
think that performance was any better. But it was fun to talk
to some people who don't seem like they have the posh
attitude of the rest of the school. And to escape thoughts
about my mother for a little while. Honestly, that's all I
expected.
But now I'm standing in the hallway, and my name is on
that piece of paper. Not only is it on the piece of paper, it's
next to the role of Mr. Darcy.
That's impossible. I didn’t think my audition had gone
that well.
Then I see something else. The line above mine . Another
name. Amber Dwyer. Her name is next to the role of
Elizabeth.
It feels like my stomach drops a foot. I've only known her
for a week, and I already have a crush. She's not like anyone
I've ever met. She honestly doesn't care what people think
about her, is unafraid to express her opinions, and doesn't
hold back about the things that she loves. The fact that she's
going to play Elizabeth makes complete sense. She’s a
fantastic actress, and really transforms into her character.
But the fact that she's going to play Elizabeth with me is
what makes the floor drop out from underneath me. We're
going to have to pretend to fall in love, and I have a
sensation deep in my gut that tells me it’s going to be way
too easy.
I hear a small sound behind me, and turn to find her
standing there. She's looking at the floor, hands clasped
together, fidgeting. "I haven't seen it yet," she says. "I'm too
nervous."
"Why?"
She looks up at me, very intentionally not looking at the
list behind me. "Because I love Pride and Prejudice, and I
worked really hard for my audition. I mean, just being a part
of the production will be great, but this is something I really
wanted."
“I'm really sorry that you had to audition with me, then,"
I say.
"Don't be silly," she says. "You were great."
I shake my head. “I’m not so sure, but thank you.” We
stand together in silence for a couple of minutes, and I watch
as Amber seems to be working up the courage to look at the
list. "You should look," I say.
"I feel sick," she says.
"Do you want me to tell you? Or give you a hint of some
kind?"
“No," she shakes her head. "No, I can do it." Taking a
deep breath, she steps around me and looks at the list. I
watch her go completely still as she sees it. There's a tiny
gasp, and she looks at me suddenly. "Am I hallucinating?"
"If you are hallucinating," I say, "then I definitely am,
because you deserve that part way more than I do."
Amber ducks her head, but I see the shimmer of tears in
her eyes before she does.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah,” she says. "I'm perfect.”
Those butterflies I felt for the first time walking into the
auditorium appear again. "I think you're going to be really
great," I say. "I really do."
She looks up at me, eyes shining. “I think you’ re going to
be really great too.”
I laugh. "I'm not sure what he was thinking. It's not like
my audition was very good, and really not good enough for a
part that big."
"Well, if it helps," she says, "Mr. Darcy is supposed to be
a bit awkward. He's uncomfortable in almost all the social
situations in the story."
"So you're calling me awkward?" I say, but I'm smiling.
"Don't worry," Amber says, picking up the pen hanging
next to the cast list and initialing by her name. "You're a
Drama Club kid now. We'll train it right out of you."
She hands the pen to me, and I take it. I spend one last
second questioning whether this is a good idea, before
initialing the letters PH next to my printed name. "What we
do now?"
 "Show up to rehearsal," she says. "Get used to it.
Rehearsal is basically going to be your life now."
I roll my eyes. "I'm going to be one of those people?"
"You're going to be one of those people," she confirms.
"Okay. But seriously, let me apologize in advance for how
bad I'm going to make you look."
Amber starts walking down the hallway and she looks
over her shoulder at me. "You think I would've dragged my
ass out into the snow to get you if I thought you'd make me
look bad? Not a chance."
And then she's gone.
I look at the cast list again, scanning down the list of
names. What on earth did I just get myself into?
 5

PETER
PRESENT

“Cut!”
I looked up as Amber shouts the word across the set. It's
the very first scene we filmed, and so far, everything is great.
Everyone feels comfortable, everybody knows their lines,
and Amber has a vision that makes it easy to act. The same
way that she helped me in high school, her notes about
character and motivation are spot on. It's only been a couple
of hours, but I can already tell that this is going to be
awesome.
"Okay everyone, let's get set for sequence three. Actors,
be back in an hour and we’ll rehearse the scene."
It’s amazing to me how the vibe of this set is so di erent
from my last show. Right from the start, this cast and crew
seem to be in synch. I guess that’s what you get with a kick-
ass director like Amber. Speaking of Amber, I see her go
toward the craft services table, refilling her co ee. I
approach her slowly. I don't want to startle her, but I want to
know how she's actually feeling about us reuniting,
especially now that Michael isn’t around to be the third
wheel.
"Amber," I say.
"Peter."
 “So, how are you?"
She finishes pouring her co ee into her cup and turns to
me. "I've been well, and clearly so have you. Looks like we
both managed pretty well over the years."
There’s still little to no expression on her face, and I
study her, trying to figure out what she's thinking. "I was
surprised to see you here, but I can't say that I'm not glad."
She smiles, but it's thin. It doesn't reach her eyes, and I
know that it's not real. I've seen enough real Amber Dwyer
smiles to be able to tell the di erence. "That's really nice to
hear," she says. "I think we’ll be able to do some good work
together. If you have any other questions about your
character, feel free to let me know.”
“I will,” I say. “I think there’s a lot to dig into, and I’m
excited to film the more emotional scenes. I don’t want Alex
to just be another cookie-cutter cop. The script is amazing.”
“That’s great,” she says. Her eyes are looking behind me,
observing the things that are happening on the set. The hand
that's not holding the co ee cup is tapping on the table, and
I notice her shifting her weight from foot to foot , like she
wants to move. She's trying to get away from me, to
extricate herself from the situation.
Cold runs down my spine. She seemed warm enough
when she was talking with Michael and me, but now that
we’re alone, it's all gone. If that's the case, then she clearly
hasn't forgiven me for everything that happened. I was
hoping that it had been long enough that she would've
forgotten, or let it go. I don't want that to be the thing that
ruins our relationship for a second time. "Amber," I say. "I
—" She isn't looking at me, and that's not a good sign. Even
when we fought, there was never a time when Amber
wouldn't look at me. If I want to have any kind of shot with
her, I can't push. Not now.
 Amber is the strongest person I know, and no amount of
convincing will make her change her mind when she's mad
about something. I can only show her that I'm sorry, and
that I still want her. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm really
happy to see you again."
She looks at me now, but it's not a friendly look. She's
glaring at me with all the power that she has. "And I just
want to tell you this, and I want it to be crystal clear. I know I
wasn't the original director, but I'm here to do my job. And
only that. I intend to do good work because this is just as big
an opportunity for me as it is for you. I'm not here to rebuild
things that are broken, or to do anything that's going to risk
my career. Especially because of you."
I manage to control my expression so that my jaw doesn't
drop on the floor. "Because of me?" I grin. "I didn’t realize I
could still a ect you like that, after so many years.”
A blush stains her cheeks, not unlike the one she had the
day we first met. I don't miss the way her eyes flickered on
my mouth and back. “You're not a ecting me," she says
hotly.
That only makes me smile more. "I never stopped
thinking about you, Amber."
Her flush is deep now. "Well you should have."
“Why? If you're this bothered by seeing me again, then
clearly you didn't stop thinking about me either.”
Amber reaches for a scone that's on a plate near the back
of the table, but they’re piled precariously, and she knocks
them onto the floor. Sighing in frustration, she walks around
the table. "Why would I be thinking about you? I have no
reason to think about you. I think everything was pretty
e ectively wrapped up ten years ago.”
I move around the table with her, and when she bends
down to pick up the scone, I move with her so the table hides
us both. I catch her wrist before she can reach the pastry,
keeping her close, and allowing us one small private
moment. "What are you doing?" she asks, tugging her wrist,
but I don't let go.
"Amber, I'm sorry about what happened. I never meant to
hurt you that way, and I regret it. I wasn't lying when I said I
never stopped thinking about you, and I want you back. No
matter what it takes, even if you hate me, I plan to show you
that I'm not who you think I am.
"We are going to make an amazing TV show together, and
when we're on set I will be nothing but professional. But
when we're not working, I'm going to do everything in my
power to make you fall in love with me again."
Amber stares at me for a second, a shocked expression on
her face. Her eyes flickered to my lips again, and I wonder
what she's thinking about. Which of our kisses is she
remembering? She shakes her head, like she's coming out of
a memory, and pulls her hand forcefully out of mine. "I was
never in love with you," she says.
I reach out, and stroke my fingers across the back of her
hand. She shivers at my touch, and it's impossible to keep
the smile o my face. "We both know that's not true."
I stand, and as I do, one of the makeup assistants catches
my eye and waves me over for touch ups. But I can't help
looking back at Amber, who's still on the floor behind the
table, scone utterly forgotten, staring at me.
 6

PETER
11TH GRADE

Amber’s house is really nice. It’s not rich, but it’s

comfortable and lived in. My aunt’s house doesn’t feel like
this. Even though she’s an amazing person, the house kind
of feels like a museum. Like nothing should be touched and
everything should always look perfect. Country club finery.
I’ve never really been comfortable in that kind of
environment, but I wasn’t comfortable in the apartment I
shared with my mom either, which was so old and falling
apart that you could see the pipes in the walls in some places
and cockroaches were my constant roommates.
The Dwyer house is a happy medium. It’s bright and
warm, and I don’t see any rooms that look like they’re
reserved for the queen in case she pays an unexpected visit.
It’s been a few weeks since we were both cast in the play,
and we’ve been in rehearsals almost every day working on
the play. We train with Mr. Davidson on how to walk, stand,
and sit like the characters would. It’s not natural and I swear
my back hurts more now than when I used to play sports. It
doesn’t seem like my spine is really meant to be that
straight, but everyone swears that it’s not going to kill me,
even though they’re complaining too.
 The people from Drama Club say hi to me in the halls. I
didn’t notice how many of them were in my classes before.
Now it almost seems like I have friends. As strange as it
sounds, I hadn’t really noticed how lonely I was until
suddenly there were people around me. People who were
actually talking to me, laughing with me.
And at the center of that group is Amber. I can’t seem to
keep it together around her. I’ve never been a nervous
person but I feel like I’m constantly tongue-tied and
awkward when she’s around. Plus, I always manage to forget
my lines.
When she asked me to come over and rehearse with her, I
said yes so fast, I didn’t even think about asking my aunt.
She said yes, of course, after teasing me for a good five
minutes about finding a girl. I think I was still blushing
when I showed up here, but she’s not wrong. I think I had a
crush on her the minute she walked up to me in the snow,
and now it feels like so much more than that.
“So,” she says, flopping into a giant beanbag in the
corner of her room, “how are your lines coming?”
I shrug o my backpack and sit down on the floor. “Okay?
I’m not really good at this whole memorization thing.”
“Never had to memorize this much before?”
“Never.” I look at the way she’s relaxed and comfortable,
loose t-shirt sagging o her shoulder and leggings that
make me have to look away or my body’s going to give me
away. “You?”
“I’m pretty used to it,” she says, “but still, it’s a lot of
lines. I think doing this is going to help. I’ve run some of my
other scenes with people, but not ours yet.”
Ours. “Yeah.”
Amber rolls out of the bag and grabs her script, and flops
down onto the floor in front of me. “Which scene first?”
“We could go in order.”
 She grins, and I look down at my own script, afraid of
giving it away. “Perfect.”
And so we start.
We sit across from each other, and I try not to look at my
script as much as possible because I enjoy looking at her. It
occurs to me as she and I read other cast members’ lines,
that she only invited me tonight, when she could have had a
few other actors over, too. My blood sizzles with the idea
that she wanted to be alone.
After reading through a particularly long scene, Amber
throws the script aside. “Have you seen the movie?” she
asks.
“Pride and Prejudice?”
“Yeah.”
“No.” I shake my head.
There’s a special gleam in her eye. “There are two
di erent versions. One is a mini-series that’s a little older.
Colin Firth plays Mr. Darcy, and then there’s a more recent
film version. A lot of people think that the mini-series is
better, but I’m not so sure. The film is beautiful.”
“I’ll have to watch it sometime,” I say.
She glances sideways at me. “It’s Friday. Do you have
anywhere to be? We could watch it now.”
I grin at her. “Shouldn’t we be rehearsing?”
“We’ll call it research,” she says. “Besides, we can run
the rest of the scenes after we finish the movie. It’s still
pretty early.”
“Sure.”
“Great. Our TV room is in the basement.”
We take our scripts down to the basement, and start the
movie.
I keep sneaking glances at Amber throughout the movie,
and she’s engrossed. There are times when her lips move
with the film, and I’m not entirely sure that she even knows.
 The film reaches the scene we were about to read, and in
the film, it takes place on a day that’s pouring rain, under a
stone gazebo. Earlier in the film, it was clear that Elizabeth
and Darcy have an attraction for each other, a fascination,
but this scene changes everything.
I hadn’t thought about what it must be like to want
someone so much in a society that barely allows anyone to
touch. No wonder the filmmakers took the time to focus on
the tiny details like simple touches on the hand.
The chemistry between the characters in this scene is
burning, and I could swear that even though they’re furious
at each other, that they’re going to kiss. But they don’t. They
hold themselves back even though you can tell it’s the only
thing that they want to do.
I look at Amber, and for just a second in the dim light, I
swear that she’s looking at me, but the next scene is
brighter, and she’s just watching the film. The air feels
changed now, charged, and I’m far more invested in the
outcome of the film than I ever imagined. Even though I
already know the ending—after all, I’ve read the script.
The reunion between their characters is romantic and
breathless, and I can understand why this story is a classic.
Both of these characters have flaws. They’re not too perfect
and they both screw up massively, but they still find a way to
forgive and find each other.
For a second, I think about my mom. We’ve both screwed
up, and I would love it if we could somehow find our way
back to each other and start again. But who knows if that will
ever happen or if that will ever be a possibility.
The credits roll on the film, and Amber sighs. “Such a
good movie.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It is.”
She doesn’t move to turn on the lights, so we’re left in
shadowy dimness. I’m glad. I think the atmosphere that’s
been created would be shattered.
“So what scenes do you want to run?”
There are two that are on my mind. “The last one.”
“Okay,” she says softly, turning toward me on the couch.
I start the scene, asking her about the visit Darcy’s aunt
made to her the night before. I can empathize with Darcy
here. His aunt had his best interests in mind, even if she
went about it in a completely misguided way.
And then it’s there, and Darcy is confessing his love for
Elizabeth, and it feels so natural to be saying this to Amber. I
won’t pretend that I’m in love with her the way Darcy is with
Elizabeth, but I think it would be easy to get there.
Then I realize than we’ve been staring at each other
because we’re out of lines. I can hear my heart pounding in
my ears, and I didn’t realize how we’d moved toward each
other until right now. We’re so close, and I can’t breathe.
Yes…no.
Yes.
I’m going to kiss her.
I take the surge of confidence while I have it. Just like the
movie, I lean in and press my forehead against hers. Amber
gasps softly, but she doesn’t pull away.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask softly.
She bites her lip. “There aren’t any kisses in this scene.”
“I know.”
And then I kiss her.
It’s soft and barely there, and everything in my body
suddenly feels electric. I feel like all of my breath has gone
and she’s the only way I can get more.
Then it’s over and we pull apart, and I don’t move. I’m
staring at her and I can’t believe that I just did that. That we
just did that. But there’s nothing I want more than to do it
again.
 Amber blushes, smiles, ducks her head, and suddenly
she’s o the couch. She practically sprints toward the stairs,
turns around and comes back. “Snacks, I’m going to get us
some snacks. Is that okay? Snacks.”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer, just disappears up the
stairs. I can’t stop smiling. I’m not sure what to do. I guess
I’ll wait for her to come back and spend that time reliving
the best ten seconds of my life so far.
There murmur of voices floats down the stairs. Shit. I
completely forgot about Amber’s parents. Should I have not
have kissed her while they’re here? If they weren’t here,
would she have let me kiss her again?
I’m not exactly Casanova. My life to this point hasn’t let
me hang out with a lot of girls. When I lived in Virginia, I
was too busy working and taking care of my mom to date.
One point scored for Massachusetts.
Amber comes down the stairs again, and she’s holding a
big plate of cheese and crackers and a couple of sodas. She
sits down with the plate in between us and hands me the
soda. “That was nice,” I say. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” she says.
Nerves jump through my gut. “Did I—was that okay? I’m
sorry if—”
“No!” she interrupts me, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“It was fine. Great. I was just…embarrassed.”
I pick up the tray of crackers and move it to the co ee
table because I don’t want it between us. If I get the chance
to kiss her again, I don’t want it to be thwarted by cheese.
“Why embarrassed?”
“I…” she clears her throat. “I’ve never done that before.”
I reach out with my hands. What do I do with my hands?
“I never would have known,” I say. “I’m sorry, if you
weren’t ready for that.”
 She blushes again, and turns toward me. “I was.” She
scoots closer, and I freeze, unsure where it’s going. “Actually
I was wondering if you wanted to run the scene again.”
“The whole scene?” I ask.
“Maybe just part of it.”
I fight to keep the grin of my face. “Which part?”
She looks down at her hands. “The unscripted part.”
“That’s a good part,” I say as I lean in to kiss her again.
 7

AMBER
PRESENT

“That’s a wrap for today,” I call. “Thanks, everybody.”

I get up out of my chair and book it. The past few weeks
have been exhausting. Exhilarating and tiring and strange.
It’s mostly been about Peter. I didn’t lie to him. I didn’t
keep track of him after high school, and even though he
more than made up for it, I’m still pissed about everything.
It’s hard not to be when a wound goes that deep.
But he’s here. The minute I recognized him, it all came
rushing back. I’m honestly amazed that I didn’t make the
connection before he was standing in front of me and
shaking my hand. I guess I had just assumed it was someone
else with the same name, that it couldn’t be the boy I knew
from high school who swept me o my feet and shattered
my heart.
That moment the first day, when he told me that he’d
make me fall in love with him again. I almost fell the rest of
the way to the floor. Peter is determined, and I believe him.
The scariest part is that I think he might be able to do it. And
even though I know it’s a bad idea, I want that.
I remember the feeling of falling with him, and it’s still
one of the best experiences of my life, even considering how
it ended.
 He hasn’t pushed, but he’s always there. Asking to carry
my bags, wanting to talk about the script, o ering to refill
my co ee. He’s been a steady, consistent presence by my
side on the set and there’s a part of me that loves it, that
revels in it, because I want him.
God forbid it, but I want him. The last ten years have been
very good to him. He was hot when we dated, but now…holy
shit. Everything that I loved about him has sharpened, and
you don’t get a role like this without the looks and the body
to back it up.
I hadn’t seen his old show before I started this job. But
after the first day, I went home and watched it. His role was
sexy, and god bless America, there were more than enough
shirtless scenes to show me exactly what he’s got under the
clothes. And knowing what he can do, what he’s surely
gotten better at…
God, stop it Amber. This job means everything. I wasn’t
doing badly before, but this is my shot. If this show does well
it will put me on the map as a director, and I can’t a ord to
lose that opportunity. The fact that Clay Markham hired me
in his place isn’t a thing that has gone unnoticed, especially
since I’m a new director and I’m a woman.
So the fact that Peter is here and trying to make me fall in
love with him is very inconvenient. Which is why as soon as I
called a wrap, I grabbed my things and left. Tomorrow we’re
shooting the first of the more emotional scenes, and I can’t
a ord to be caught up in Peter. He’s developed a habit of
catching me before I leave after wrap.
Tonight I plan to go home, have dinner, and do absolutely
nothing.
I duck through a short cut to the parking lot, hoping to
avoid Peter. Not that I actually want to avoid him. Every time
I see him, my heart starts to pound and I get weak in the
knees and it’s hard to focus. And it’s already late.
 Finally, I reach the door and head through it just a touch
too quickly. The straps of my bag get caught on the handle
and yank me o balance. Suddenly I’m flying. Pain bursts
through my ankle as I slip down the couple of steps onto the
asphalt, and then I’m on my back looking at the stars. Fuck.
That really hurts. I definitely scraped up my leg, and the way
my ankle is throbbing, I probably sprained it, or worse. Not
exactly what I was planning for my quick and stealthy exit.
“Shit,” I say to the same stars. They’re the only ones
listening. Or so I think.
“Amber?” A voice floats to me from over the parking lot.
The sound of running footsteps approach, and Peter appears
above me. “Are you okay? I heard you yell.” Worry is etched
on his face and I love that he cares so much, even though
we’ve barely spoken in the last ten years. But this also means
he’ll be that much closer to me, checking on my well-being.
I don’t hate that thought as much as I should.
“I’m honestly not sure,” I say. “My bag got caught on the
door and now I’m here. On the ground. My ankle…” I wince
as I try to flex it and can’t. “Not in good shape.”
“Here, let me help you.” Peter crouches down and gently
helps me into a sitting position.
It’s not easy, but I don’t even notice because Peter’s
hands are on me. I’ve avoided that for the last three weeks
but now that he’s touching me, it’s like something broke
open, and even though I’m in pain, I want him to touch me
more.
He leans down toward my ankle. “Can I look?”
“Yeah.”
Rolling up my pant leg so he can see it, he touches my
skin gently. But even that’s too much and I hiss with the
pain. “It’s swelling already,” he says. “You need to get this
checked.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I say.
 “Amber, you could have a fracture.”
I roll my eyes. “I think I would know if it were broken. An
ace bandage and some ice and I’ll be good as new.”
“And if you’re not, I couldn’t live with myself, I’m taking
you to the clinic.”
Old anger, harsh and immediate and spurred on by my
pain flies up through my chest. “I thought we already
figured out what happens when you decide what’s best for
me in regards to my health.”
I wish I could take back the words as soon as they’re out
of my mouth, but I can’t. We both freeze, and the concern
that was in Peter’s face fades to coldness and resignation. He
clears his throat. “I suppose we have. But I don’t think you
can walk right now, and the only way I’m helping you up is if
you let me take you to the ER or at least an urgent care.”
“I can call somebody else,” I say, but there’s no
conviction behind it.
Peter turns to me, and suddenly his hands cup my face.
“Amber, please,” he says, and he places his forehead against
mine, just like he always used to. “Let me help you. Let me
take care of you.”
I close my eyes, emotion welling up in place of the anger.
And I have been angry for a long time. At him, at a lot of
things. And the idea that someone wants to, is capable of,
taking care of me hits me with a weight that I don’t expect.
I’ve never felt the desire to let go so strongly as I do now.
There are two directions I can choose right now. I can tell
Peter to leave, call my assistant, and whatever it is that’s
still between us will stop right here. This will be the end of it.
Or I can let him help me, let this thing grow, even though it
could ruin us both.
I wish that I could say that I hadn’t already chosen.
“Okay,” I breathe.
 His lips warm my temple, and I lean into the kiss, leaving
my eyes closed. “Thank you,” he says.
“There’s an urgent care not far from here,” I tell him. “I
can have my assistant send me the address.”
He chuckles, “I’m sure I can find it on my phone just as
fast.” Then he slips his arm under my knees and lifts me o
the ground like he’s lifting nothing but air. “Whoa.”
There’s another low laugh, but this time I’m pressed
against his chest and I feel it vibrate through my skin. He’s
so, so warm, and I find myself relaxing as he carries me to
his car. He lowers me into the front seat and we’re face to
face again. “Peter,” I say, and he looks at me. I’m flooded
with memories of this. I’ll never forget his eyes, green and
brown and flecks of gold. “I don’t know what this is.” I know
I’m not being clear, but I’m hoping that he gets it. There’s
too much to say.
“Neither do I,” he says.
 8

AMBER
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE OPENING NIGHT

The sound of the auditorium filling always brings tingling

nerves to the surface. I close my eyes and breathe,
swallowing the nerves and embracing the excitement. It’s
been a long couple of months, but I’m ready. Two weekends
of shows, and then Christmas vacation. It will be perfect.
Especially since I know that I’ll spend a lot of Christmas
vacation with Peter.
Speaking of Peter, I look across the stage. He’s pacing
back and forth in the other wing, and I see him running his
hands through his hair. He’s nervous. But then again, so was
I the first time I did this.
I cross behind the curtain and grab his hand, pulling him
into the deeper shadows by the fly rail. “Breathe,” I tell him.
“I’m going to throw up,” he says. “I can’t do this.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve done this perfectly every day
this week. The only di erence is that now there are people
watching.”
“Exactly,” he stops fidgeting long enough to look me in
the eyes. “There are people. People that I know. People who
are going to see that I am not an actor.”
I reach out and grab him to hold him still, his nervous
energy is going to exhaust him. “Peter, breathe.”
 He takes a breath.
I reach up and pull his face down to mine, pressing our
foreheads together. “You’re great. You’re an amazing Mr.
Darcy, and tonight you’re going to make me fall in love with
you.”
He grins, that overly confident smile that usually means
he’s kidding but also tells me he’s snapping back to himself.
“I thought you were already there?”
I give him a slow smile. “Ask me again after the show,
and I’ll tell you.”
Peter’s eyes are suddenly fire and awe and surprise.
That’s not the answer he was expecting. I take the
opportunity to kiss him, and I like the way we relax into each
other. Neither of us have much experience at this, but the
past couple months we’ve been learning together, and that
has been…more than fun.
Though it took us longer than normal to learn our scenes
together since our private rehearsals contained less
rehearsals and more kissing.
Drew, our assistant stage manager walks by us and
chuckles softly. I give him the finger without breaking our
kiss or opening my eyes, which makes him laugh harder.
When everyone found out that we’d started…going out or
whatever you want to call it, suddenly the jokes were
endless. But it’s not that bad, and I’d take it all again for
this.
“Places, please,” Drew calls.
Peter pulls back, and he’s still looking at me like I’m
glowing or an alien. Entirely possible given the amount of
stage make-up I have on. “Break a leg,” I whisper.
He swallows. “You too.”
I cross back to my side of the stage. I don’t have to go on
right away, but I like being backstage at the beginning of the
show. All the energy is electric and I can’t resist it.
 The play begins, and we’re swept up into the tale. We
dance, we banter, and when Elizabeth and Darcy meet for the
first time, there’s a spark that’s never been there before,
even in our private rehearsals.
Peter’s distaste and aloofness are perfect, and even the
moments of awkwardness that shine through are perfectly
Darcy. He’s a natural, even if he doesn’t believe it.
I confront him about how he’s ruined Jane’s life, and our
blocking slips closer to each other until there’s barely an
inch between us, only the muscle memory and our lines
holding us back from falling into each other. This character
has never felt so alive to me, my body aching from the fact
that both Elizabeth and I just want to touch him, feel him,
and neither of us is able to do so.
And then it’s the end, and suddenly Peter is on one knee
in front of me, promising his love, and there’s a tug in my
gut that I can’t ignore. When he takes my hand, I feel like I
can’t breathe. And when the show is over and the curtain has
fallen, I barely hear the applause because Peter has pulled
me into the wing and kissed me breathless.
It takes Drew practically shoving us back onto the stage to
run for our curtain call, and the cheering when we come out
is one of the best highs I’ve ever felt. Ever will feel. Second
only to that kiss.
The curtain call is over, and Peter takes me by the hand
and pulls me backstage, back through the dressing rooms
and into the prop room. I should protest, say that we need to
change out of our costumes so we don’t keep people in the
theatre, so we can go out to the cast party. But I want this
too.
The second we’re through the door his lips are on mine,
and every kiss we’ve had until now has never felt like this.
Peter’s hands slide down my back, pulling me closer. “You
were amazing,” he whispers against my lips.
 “I could say the same thing for you,” I breathe. “I’ve
never felt anything like that.”
“Amber Dwyer,” he says, pulling back to look at me, “I
am falling in love with you, and I’m terrified to ask you,
but—”
“Me too,” I say quickly. “Me too me too me too.”
Then he’s kissing me and I never, ever want it to end.
 9

AMBER
PRESENT

I wasn’t expecting the urgent care to be this busy. Guess I

should have known. This is L.A. Everything is busy here all
the time.
Peter picked me up again when we got here. I told him
that he didn’t have to, that I could just lean on him, but he
didn’t listen. So now I’m cradled against him while he walks
us through the automatic doors and up to the reception desk.
The girl in scrubs working reception looks up and her
eyes go wide. She obviously recognizes Peter, but she doesn’t
say anything. I imagine it’s probably not the first Hollywood
celebrity to walk through the doors. Though I would love to
know if anyone else came in carrying a woman like she’s a
damsel in distress.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“She fell,” Peter says, the rumbling vibration of his voice
rolling through me. “Hurt her ankle. We need to make sure
it’s not broken.”
The girl nods and hands me a clipboard. “Insurance
paperwork. We’ll get you in to see someone as soon as
possible.”
“Thank you,” I say, and take the pen she hands me. Peter
walks toward the waiting area, and I whisper, “You can put
me down now.”
He smirks down at me. “Unless you’ve miraculously
gained the ability to walk in the last five minutes, you’re
going to stay here with me.”
A blush heats my cheeks, and I look away. “I don’t want
you to get tired,” I mumble.
“Is that what you’re worried about? That you’re too
heavy?” My blush deepens, but I stay silent. He laughs, low
and soft. “Amber, you’re not too heavy for me. And I would
hold you all night if you’d let me. But I know you won’t. So
for now, let me help you elevate your foot.”
He sets me sideways in one of the waiting room chairs
and sits in the one beside me, pulling my legs into his lap
and gently lifting my ankle in spite of my wince. “Sorry,” he
says.
“Not your fault.” I say, trying to focus on the paper in
front of me. Trying to not focus on the fact that I miss his
warmth and that his arms were way more comfortable than
this chair. Get it together, Amber. You don’t need his arms to
be comfortable. You need to get this taken care of so you can
go home and prep for tomorrow’s shoot.
I hear the sound of a phone camera, and look to my left.
Across the waiting room, there’s a girl with a phone pointed
at Peter. “Shit,” I mumble. “Peter, twelve o’clock.”
He glances over at the girl and back at me. “So? It’s not
like this is a compromising photo.”
“No,” I say, giving him a look, “but I’d rather not have
any rumors of injuries on set. I’m going to message Gina.
Can you text Wendy?”
He nods. “Sure.”
Gina is the head publicist for Undercover, and I swear that
we’d be lost without her. She’s a genius that can spin almost
anything, and having her make a statement about my
clumsiness will be easy for her. I’m sure she’ll make it sound
charming and quirky instead of me looking like an idiot. At
least that’s what I hope is going to happen.
I outline the incident quickly, let her know that I’m
currently at urgent care and that I’ll keep her updated. It’s
late for working hours, but I’m not surprised that she texts
back immediately. Par for the course with Gina. She never
stops working, which is probably why she’s so good at her
job.
And I love her for the fact that immediately she’s asking if
I’m okay instead of worrying about the story. But the minute
I tell her that I think I’m okay, she’s on it.
Peter’s on his phone too, and I know that his publicist is
just as good. Between the two of them, I doubt that an injury
story would get any play. On a lot of shows, an injury story
wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it will be if it’s on a show
led by a woman. If spun in the wrong way, it could paint me
as irresponsible and dangerous to work for. That can’t
happen.
“So,” Peter says, interrupting my thoughts. “Now that we
have some time are you actually going to talk to me?”
“I talk to you every day.”
“No. You don’t,” he says softly.
I look up at him, and I find it hard to meet his eyes
because he’s right. I’ve kept every conversation I’ve had with
him light and professional, restricted to nothing but the
show and his character. Nothing since that first day and the
incident with the scone. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. We always talked about this for you, but
you’re here, Amber. You made it, and I feel like I know
nothing about how you got here. The internet only does so
much, you know?”
I roll my eyes. “You googled me?”
“Of course I googled you. I feel so stupid for not doing it
sooner. If I had, I would have seen all the amazing you work
you’ve been doing. Been aware that we were living in the
same city. But what happened after…you know.”
I do know. The thing. The thing that I refuse to think
about and that I’m not going to talk about and that I should
really let go. Looking back, it’s not that big, but ten years can
make small things into impassable obstacles. So for now,
while we’re fine, I’m going to brush past it and just pretend
like nothing happened.
“It’s not that exciting,” I say. “College, and then my
senior year I made a short film that got some attention. Got a
chance to do a couple of low-budget indie films, and my last
one won a couple of awards. That’s the one that Clay saw. I
worked with him on The Truth of Life as a B unit director, and
he liked my work. I’m honestly not sure what made him pick
me to replace him for this, but he did. And yet I’m still a
klutz who manages to hurt herself falling down three steps.”
Peter laughs at that. “You make it sound easy, but I doubt
it was. You think I don’t know how hard it is to be a female
director? A female anything here? The fact that he picked you
means that you work twice as hard and are twice as good as
any of the men that could have gotten this job. And I think
that’s clear to everyone on set.”
I’m blushing again, and I look away. “Thank you.”
“One day I’m going to get the details out of you,” he says.
I shake my head, overwhelmed, because it’s too much.
It’s been so much time, and so much distance, and yet he
seems to care just as much. Why does he care?
I don’t realize that I’ve said out loud until he’s
responding. “I care about you, Amber. I never stopped
caring, even if that’s hard for you to believe. So I want to
know everything.”
“Everything?”
He nods.
“That’s going to take a while.”
 “We have time,” he grins.
He makes it sound so easy, like we can just pretend that
we haven’t spent the last ten years apart. But it doesn’t feel
that simple to me. Even if I’m drawn to him like a moth to a
flame, nothing in my life after high school has been simple,
and I can’t believe that this will be di erent.
It feels like our roles have reversed. In high school, I was
the confident one with big ambition, and I remember helping
him come out of his shell. What happened to me? Maybe
that’s why Peter makes me nervous now because he has the
confidence I used to have, and he reminds me of something
that I forgot I was.
“Hey,” Peter says, tapping my hand. “You okay? You
disappeared there for a second.”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “Thank you,” I say, “for helping me.”
He moves his hand like he’s going to take mine, but I see
him glance towards the girl with the phone and he pulls it
back. He smiles. “I’ll always help you, whenever you need
it.” He leans in just a little. “Whatever you need.”
The way he says those words brings heat to my skin
because there’s no mistaking what he’s talking about. I have
no idea how to respond. Everything in me wants that, but
there’s nothing I can do about it here. Nothing I should do
about it at all.
“Amber Dwyer,” a nurse calls from the door.
Saved by the bell. Barely. I can’t even speak before Peter is
up and moving, lifting me into his arms and carrying me
toward the nurse. I’m glad that I didn’t have to respond to
him, but I’m also glad that Peter is holding me again. And
for the moment, I decide to enjoy it.
10
 PETER
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE CLOSING NIGHT

It’s the last performance, and even though I’ve done this
seven times now, I still feel like I’m going to be sick before
the beginning of the show. And tonight, I feel like I’m going
to be sick for an entirely di erent reason beside the fact that
the house is packed.
My house is empty. About a month ago, Aunt Lily told me
that she was going out of town on business for a few days. It
didn’t click until yesterday that that was this weekend. She
apologized about a million times for missing my final show,
but considering she came to almost all the other ones, I’m
really fine with it.
But that means that my house is empty right now. Empty
on closing night. I want Amber to come home with me. I
haven’t asked her yet, and I’m not sure we’re even there yet,
but if we are, this would be the perfect time. I’m going to ask
her, even though the thought of her saying no rips me up.
This thing we have, I don’t want to risk breaking it by
moving too fast. But still…
There she is.
After opening night, it’s become a ritual for her to come
see me on this side of the stage. We have our little corner,
and we tuck ourselves into it, arms wrapped around each
other. “Hi,” I say, leaning down to kiss her.
“Hi.” She’s smiling, and I’ll never get tired of the way
that she’s looking at me. Like I’m something special. There’s
only a handful of people that have ever looked at me like
that, and no one has ever made me feel the way she does.
“I have a question for you,” I tell her, “and I’m nervous
about it, so I don’t know if I should ask you before or after
the show.”
She makes a funny face. “Well is it a bad question?”
“I don’t think so,” I say, swallowing. “I hope not.”
Amber giggles, and reaches up on her tip-toes to kiss my
cheek. “Than just take a breath and ask me now.”
I follow her instructions and take a breath, which always
makes me feel better. “What would I do without you to
remind me to breathe?”
“Just die, I guess,” she says.
I clear my throat. “Well, here goes. My aunt went out of
town for work on Friday. She’s not going to be back until
Tuesday.” I feel like something is constricting my throat as I
choke out the words. “So I was wondering if you wanted to
come home with me tonight?”
Amber’s face goes blank with surprise, and I immediately
try to make it better. “But if you’re not ready for that I
understand, I get it, there’s no rush to it, I just thought I’d
ask—”
“Peter,” Amber says softly, and I stop talking. I take a
breath. She smiles. “Of course I’ll come home with you.”
Relief, sweet and cool pours down my spine. “Really?”
“Really.”
The way she’s looking at me now sends a completely
di erent energy through me. That same energy I felt the
night we first kissed. I kiss her now, as Drew calls places. I
have to live through the next two hours knowing that Amber
is coming home with me, holding everything back from
ditching the show and going home now. This is going to be
our best performance, I know it.
She pulls away, and smiles, eyes glazed from our kiss.
“I’ll see you on stage,” she says.
“See you.” I have to think of very cold and gross things
while she walks away. Ice. Mildew. The smell of my socks.
Thank fucking god that I’m not in the first few scenes,
otherwise the audience would be getting a show that they
didn’t pay for. These costumes leave nothing to the
imagination.
The show pours out of both of us. Our chemistry has
never been better, and because it’s the final night, I can’t
help myself. When Darcy proposes to Elizabeth and she
accepts, I kiss her. It’s too real for me, and I can hear the
audience gasp and sigh. The perfect reaction.
This curtain call is better than all the rest, and for the
first time we get a standing ovation. This is exhilarating, and
I’m full of adrenaline and passion and my god I’m in love
with her. I told her on opening night that I was falling in love
with her, but I’m already there. All the way.
I’ve never been in love before, but I can’t imagine it
feeling like anything else. It feels like falling and flying and
I’m not even sure that I’m conscious as I take o my
costume and wash the make-up o my face because I just
can’t wait to be with her. Not even like that, just around her.
My mind is going a million miles an hour, and the
congratulations roll o me like water, and then we’re in the
parking lot and I ask her again. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
It’s the longest drive of my life, and I race inside when I
make it there first because why the fuck didn’t I think about
the fact that Amber is going to be in my room? She’s seen my
room before, but every other time I’ve prepared, and the
possibility that we might have sex has me looking at my
room entirely di erently.
I toss some laundry in the basket and quickly make my
bed. I’m suddenly seeing all the things I should have dusted
and cleaned so that everything would be perfect. Should I
change? I have no idea what I’m doing.
I did buy condoms though. I bought those a couple of
weeks ago when it started to seem like we were going there.
At least I thought ahead about one thing.
The doorbell rings, and I freeze for just a second before
racing down the stairs. I probably look like an idiot because
I’m entirely out of breath as I answer the door. “Hi.”
Amber smiles. “You got here fast.”
“Oh, didn’t you know we were racing? Cause I definitely
crushed you.”
“Next time let me know that we’re racing and I’ll give you
a run for your money.”
She comes inside and we stare at each other in the
entryway for a minute. What do I do now? Is there a protocol
for this? “I don’t know what to do,” I say.
Amber raises an eyebrow but she’s grinning. “You
don’t?”
I laugh. “I know what to do, I just don’t know what to
do.”
Taking o her coat, she drops her backpack on the floor
next to mine. She takes my hand and pulls me toward the
stairs. “I think we can figure out what to do.”
Amber has been in my room before, but it’s di erent now.
It’s di erent because I know where this is going and I’m
nervous. I’m sure I’d get made fun of for admitting that to
any guy at school, but I’m nervous. I don’t want to hurt her. I
want it to be good for both of us, and I don’t want this to
change anything between us for the worse. Which it could if
I’m really bad at it.
I’m standing in the middle of the room, and Amber sits
on the edge of my bed. She grins. “Did you suddenly get
scared of me.”
I swallow. “Scared of you? No. Scared that I could mess up
or hurt you? A little, yeah.”
“Come here.” She pats the bed beside her, and I sit with
her. “I want to be very clear. I didn’t come over here because
I felt pressured, and I’m not worried about it being perfect. I
want to be with you, and since no one’s here, I assume we
have all night.”
“Yeah,” I swallow again.
“Then relax, Peter, and kiss me.”
So I do. This I know. This is familiar and perfect and
comforting, but my body knows what’s coming. Or at least
hopes that it will be coming, and so I’m instantly hard, and
so ready. But Amber is right, we have all the time in the
world, and since we do, I’m going to take my time.
Amber reaches down, her fingers toying with the edge of
my t-shirt. She’s done that before, tucking her fingers into
my belt while we kiss, but she’s never moved to take o my
shirt. Now she does, fumbles, and starts giggling against my
lips.
“What’s so funny?”
“In the movies they make the multi-tasking look so
easy,” she says. “But I’m not sure I could even take my own
clothes o while I’m kissing you, let alone yours.”
I pull my shirt up over my head and toss it across the
room.
“Much better,” she says, staring at my chest. I realize it’s
the first time she’s seen me without a shirt. It’s been fall and
winter the entire time we’ve known each other. She never
had the chance to see me.
 It strikes me then. Naked. Amber is going to see me
naked, and I’m going to see her. Holy shit.
She reaches out to touch me, and I shiver. I’ve got an okay
body, and I know that. But having her touch me makes me
wonder what she thinks of it. What is she thinking when she
looks at me?
Her fingers drift down my stomach and across my abs,
stopping just short of my belt. She glances up at me through
her lashes, like she’s asking permission, and I nod. When her
hand falls on my jeans, I moan. Even the pressure through
the fabric is…glorious. I could see stars, and if I let myself, I
could come right now. I already know I’m not going to be
able to last long when we actually…have sex. So like hell am I
going to let that happen right now.
Amber’s eyes are wide as she watches me take o my
shirt, and then look down at my dick through my jeans. I’m
not making any moves to hide it the way I usually do, and
she looks fascinated, mesmerized.
I wrap my hand behind her neck and pull her in to kiss me
again. I need to be closer to her. I like the way she’s stroking
my back and how it feels like every touch of her fingers sinks
through my skin straight to my bones. It’s amazing. I never
thought it would feel like this and we’re barely even started.
I pull back just far enough so I can reach between us, grab
the hem of her t-shirt. She sucks in a little breath and bites
her lip, but she raises her arms above her head and lets me
take it o .
I think I might pass out, because any blood I have left is
rushing south. She’s wearing a deep blue bra—her favorite. I
know because I’ve seen the strap peeking out from under her
shirts, and I once teased her about always seeing her blue
straps. It’s lacy and her skin looks even paler in contrast. The
urge to touch her is overwhelming, but even though she said
she wanted this, I want to ask.
 “Can I—” My throat is dry and my voice dies out. “Can I
touch you?”
Amber reaches out and takes my hand, pressing it against
her breast. She’s both soft and firm, and I think this is what
heaven must feel like. I’ve heard buys at school talk about
their preferences: tits or ass. I can now say with complete
certainty that I’m a tits man.
I’m kissing her again and I’m not sure how it happens,
but we’re laying down and she’s underneath me and the
feeling of her skin on mine and the scratch of the lace
against my chest is driving me wild. I had no idea I could be
this sensitive, and I’m wondering what will happen when the
rest comes o .
“Wait a second,” she says, and I pull back, afraid that I’ve
gone too far or too fast, but she just smirks at me. She
struggles for a second with her hands behind her back before
she gives up and just pulls the bra over her head. And fuck.
She’s amazing. I never thought—wow.
And then Amber says the words that I’m pretty sure are
going to kill me. “Touch me.”
I do. Gently at first, because I don’t know what I’m doing,
but I’ve seen enough porn that I can guess, even though I
know most of that isn’t real. Lowering my mouth to her skin,
I kiss her. Not there, not yet, but up near her neck. She
smells good, even better than usual, delicate perfume that is
perfect. Roses and something sharp.
“Tell me how it feels,” I say, pulling back to look at her.
“I want to know what you like, what you don’t like, since we
have the time.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to just do your
thing, and figure it out?”
I make a face, and she laughs. “I think it will be better for
both of us if we don’t pretend that either of us have a clue.”
 “Probably right,” she blushes. “Kiss my neck again. I like
that.”
I do. “Okay,” I whisper in her ear and move below it.
“Oh,” she says, gasping. “That. Right there.”
I press my lips harder on the skin below her ear, daring to
add a flick of my tongue, and she pants. “That spot…makes
me feel things everywhere.”
Everywhere. I let that sink in. “I’ll remember that.”
I move my lips down and away along her collarbone,
listening to the sound of her breathing and noticing when it
hitches or when she says yes or no. There are places on
Amber that I never imagined would be sensitive or would
bring any kind of pleasure.
The breathy giggle she lets out when I kiss the hollow of
her throat makes me want to go faster, but I don’t. Because
there’s no point in rushing this. It’s the first time for both of
us, and I want it to be something we’ll remember happily
and not with disappointment.
I always thought when the time came that I’d be
confident, that I’d know exactly what to do. But I’m
practically shaking as I touch my mouth to her breasts.
Amber stops breathing. I think that’s a good thing. Or at
least I hope that it is.
Her nipples are a perfect shade of pink, and they harden
under my lips. Amber gives a soft sigh that turns into a moan
as I suck. Yes. I switch to the other one, really enjoying the
sensation of her skin tightening, so they’re visibly di erent.
I did that.
“Better or worse than the spot on your neck?” I ask.
She giggles. “I don’t think there’s a ‘worse,’ but that feels
good.”
The next obstacle I encounter is her belt, and when I look
up to Amber’s face, she’s blushed a bright red. “Is it okay?”
 She nods, but she’s biting her lip. I climb back up the bed
and lay beside her. “What about both of us?”
“Okay.”
I manage to undo my belt and push my pants o my hips
while not moving around too much, and she does too. But I
don’t look down. Not yet. I pull her close, so we’re skin to
skin and breathing, knowing that we’re naked.
I stroke my hand from her neck and down her back all the
way to her hip, watching goose bumps form. “Is this what
you imagined?” she asks, reaching between us. And then I
realize what she’s doing and I have to grab her wrist,
because holy fuck her fingers on me feel so good, but I won’t
last.
“It’s amazing. Better than amazing. And I have some
things that I want to try.”
“Oh?”
I swallow. “I know that it’s harder for girls to…finish.”
The blood rushes to my face, and I struggle to not look away.
“So I wanted to help you go first. But I’ll need your help to
show me how.”
Between us, she twists our hands so that I’m not longer
holding hers, but she’s holding mine, and she moves my
hand there. It’s all warmth and wet and soft and holy shit
that’s what this feels like. This is amazing.
Amber moves so her legs are open, and her fingers are on
top of mine, guiding me around. I feel her entrance and the
slickness there, and then I feel her clit, swollen and
sensitive, because she gasps when we touch it together.
“There,” she gasps. “There.”
Her hand moves in a small circle and mine follows, again
and again. There’s a rhythm that she’s following, and I catch
it. Amber’s breath speeds up, and she’s looking at me, but
her eyes are far away. “More.” I move faster, and her hand
falls away from mine.
 I press harder, keeping that rhythm, but faster, and she’s
more wet than before, my fingers slipping across her skin,
but that seems to make it better for her, and I let myself
smile as her eyes slip closed.
I try even faster, and her breath goes shallow, body tense,
and I keep going. Suddenly Amber goes tight, her entire body
still and she moans, then she’s shaking and relaxing and she
curls into me. Her pussy spasms under my hand and I keep
teasing her until she touches my hand again, eyes clear.
“That was…very good.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I kiss her, tangling our tongues together and she wraps
her arms around me so that we’re close. I can feel her
wetness spreading across her skin and mine and god it
makes me want to stop breathing it’s so good. “I’m ready,”
she says.
“Are you sure?”
“Hell yeah,” she’s grinning, and reaches for the box of
condoms on my bedside table. I didn’t even realize that she’d
noticed. She hands me one, and I take the time to put it on
before settling between her legs.
“Please tell me if I hurt you.”
This is the first real time I’ve seen her down there, and
it’s strange and alien, and if I wasn’t already falling in love
with Amber, I’m pretty sure that would do it, strange as that
sounds.
I hesitate, but Amber doesn’t. She grabs my dick and
brings it closer, placing it right at her entrance, and nods.
Sliding inside, even an inch, is heaven. It’s soft and feels like
I’m bathing in pure heat. God, you can imagine it all you like
but nothing will ever match this. I know that and we’re just
starting.
 Slowly, slowly, I slide in a little at a time, gritting my
teeth against the urge to plunge as deep as I can as fast as I
can and never stop. I keep watching Amber’s face, waiting
for any sign of pain or that she wants to stop, but her hands
are on my arms, her eyes are on mine, and she looks
beautiful.
She tenses once, and I pause. “No,” she says quickly,
“Keep going.” I push further, and I can feel her pussy yield
to me, and I slip in the rest of the way faster than I intended.
Falling to my arms over her, I kiss her, because I have to. I
have to.
“Are you okay.” I can’t even manage to make it a
question, because this is amazing. Awesome. Perfect. There
aren’t enough words.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “I think so…it hurt a little, and it…
aches? But not as bad as they tried to scare us with.”
“Holy shit,” I say. I think I’ve just gone blind, because
she squeezed down on me, and everything went white. My
air is coming in pants, now.
“Move, Peter,” Amber says, and I do, like I turned a key
in a lock and something opened up. I try to be gentle, but the
friction is so good that it makes me want to go as hard as I
can. Sweet pleasure building at the base of my spine and
Jesus it’s everything. It grows until it feels like I can’t
contain it, and I hold it there for as long as I can, but it’s not
that long.
I come, and it’s like lightning striking my body. All the
personal practice I’ve had has been nothing compared to this
perfection. It electrifies me and leaves me empty, and I think
I might collapse. I don’t want to fall on Amber, so I roll to
the side and fall back onto the pillows of my bed, panting for
breath.
Oh my god.
 Even though neither of knows what we’re doing, that was
still the best experience of my life. The fact that Amber
trusted me enough to do this, her first time, makes me feel
more than I have words to describe.
She’s so beautiful, and I can’t stop staring at the way her
hair is draped across my pillow. But I…need to clean up.
“I’ll be right back.” I throw away the condom and clean
myself up as quickly as possible, because I want to be next to
her again.
Sliding under the covers with her again, I pull her against
me, and she smiles. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I tilt her face up to mine and kiss her. “Are you
okay?”
“I’m great,” she says.
I’ll never tell her, but I did research. I didn’t know when
we’d get here, but I wanted to be as good as I could be when
we did. I didn’t want to be one of those guys that just tried to
get it over with and didn’t care, and I think I did okay.
“You’re sure it didn’t?”
She laughs softly, voice a little deeper than when we
started, and snuggles down against me. “I think everything
you did first helped. I wouldn’t mind if we did that again. I
wouldn’t mind if we did any of that again.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I think that’s a guarantee.”
She laughs again, and I kiss her into silence. After a few
minutes I pull away, and we breathe together.
“You were so good tonight,” I say. “And I don’t just mean
the sex.”
“Thank you. You were amazing too.”
Propping myself up on my elbow, I look down at her. “I
never asked, but is this what you want to do?”
“Be an actress?”
“Yeah.”
She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
 “Even though you’re so good at it?”
“I want to be in entertainment,” she says, “but I don’t
think I want to be an actress.”
I can’t help it, I stroke my hand down her side because I
love the feel of her skin. “Why not?”
Amber shrugs. “Acting is fun, and it’s fun to be good at it,
but it’s so subjective. I want to write or direct or design.
Because acting takes talent, but half the time your talent
doesn’t matter until after you get the part.”
“What do you mean?”
She looks away. “There’s so much about acting that is
about looking good or being ‘right for the part’ before you
ever get to talk. I just don’t like the idea of my career relying
on me walking into room and someone thinking I’m pretty.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“So I’ll do something else. I haven’t totally decided yet.”
I lean down and press my lips to hers. “Whatever you do,
you’re going to be amazing at it.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
She grins up at me. “You know what I know?”
“What?”
“I’m ready for more.”
I shake my head. “More what?”
She sinks below the sheets, and I have a crystal clear
picture of what she means, because she’s under the blankets
and her mouth is on me. On me. Sweet god in heaven. I
wasn’t completely hard again, but I am now.
Having her mouth on me is almost like when I was inside
her but di erent. That same fiery heat and softness, but
fiercer without the condom, and when her tongue strokes
along me, I let out a groan that is far from attractive.
Up and down and up and down she goes and shit, I could
live in this feeling. All the time. Pulses of pleasure radiate
outward and I love it.
Amber tries to take as much of me as she can, and holy
shit that feels so good. My mind is blank with it, just living
in the moment.
I have to come way too soon. “Amber,” I say, “I have to.”
But she doesn’t pull away. There’s a sound in her throat
that might be a yes, but I can’t tell. The vibration from that
sound hits me, and I lose it. I come, and she doesn’t miss a
beat.
Fucking hell. I’m going to die from it. I heard once that
the word orgasm came from the French term for ‘little
death’ or something like that. Now I know why. I definitely
one hundred percent understand that.
Amber resurfaces from the covers, hair flying everywhere
and a smug grin on her face. “That was amazing,” I tell her.
“I gathered,” she laughs.
“Your turn.”
She freezes and goes bright red. “You,” she swallows,
“you don’t have to do that.”
“Why not?”
Looking away, she shrugs, “It just feels embarrassing, to
have you look at me up close like that.”
“And it’s not for me?”
“I don’t know,” Amber says. “You’re a guy. It’s like a
normal thing. Every guy wants a blowjob. I hear the
conversations. But don’t most guys think vaginas are
gross?”
I snort. “Believe me, I do not find vaginas gross. I can tell
you that I’ll regularly be having dreams about yours.”
That only makes her turn redder and hit me lightly on the
arm. “That’s not funny.”
“No, it’s sexy as fuck.” I roll over her, because I like
seeing her look up at me like that, hair messy, lips swollen,
and knowing I had something to do with that. “If you really
don’t want me to, I won’t. I’d never do something if you said
no. But I don’t mind, and I think both of us should get to
experience more, try more things.”
Amber looks back and forth between my eyes, like she’s
trying to decide if I’m completely serious. I am. “Okay,” she
says.
I throw the blankets o us, and lie between her legs. And
Amber looks mortified when I gently push her legs apart,
even though she said yes. For a second, she covers her face
with her hands, and I can see from here that every muscle is
tense.
“Amber, breathe,” I tell her, just like she always tells me.
I’ve never seen a vagina up close, and it’s strange and
glistening, and I want to taste her. I start slow, just like I did
when I was exploring her, because I want to know what
makes her feel good.
I brush my tongue gently along her skin and am rewarded
with a gasp. She tastes sweeter than I thought, and deep, like
everything about her has been concentrated down into this.
Finding her clit again, I lick her there.
“Oh,” she says, like she’s surprised that it feels good. So I
do it again. And again. I try to find the same rhythm that she
showed me with her fingers since that seems to be
something she enjoys. But with my tongue.
Amber relaxes, and for even that much, I know that I’m
doing something right. I like the way she tastes, and I wasn’t
sure I would. But I do, and I want more. I wonder…
I close my mouth over her clit and suck on it like she
sucked on me, and her hips jump under my mouth, and she
moans. Suddenly Amber’s fingers are in my hair, and she’s
gripping, pulling me into her more deeply. “Don’t stop.
Please.”
I don’t stop sucking, and I run my tongue over her clit in
the middle of it, and her hips move under my mouth, like
she’s trying to fuck my mouth, and I have to keep myself
from smiling.
Harder, I pull with my mouth and press with my tongue
and it doesn’t take long before she’s moaning with every
touch. God, those sounds are ones that I’d love to hear
forever. They make me hard again, and I wonder if she’ll let
me inside her again tonight.
It happens quickly, a gasp and then she’s shaking, a new
burst of wetness and flavor in my mouth and pure, raw
sounds coming from Amber as she tenses and releases. She
sighs when it’s over, and I pull myself up beside her again.
I tuck her into my arms and she’s perfectly relaxed. “That
wasn’t so bad,” I joke.
She blushes again. “No, that wasn’t so bad.”
I’m overcome with a wave of exhaustion. “I want to do it
again, but I don’t think I’ll stay awake for it.”
Amber giggles. “Me either, though I can think of plenty of
time over Christmas break when we might be able to try
again.”
“And again, and again…” I say, fading quickly. I let my
eyes close and Amber fits herself against me and pulls the
covers up over us. Right now, I can’t imagine ever letting go,
and I know that the next time I sleep in this bed it’s going to
be cold by comparison.
“Christmas break starts tomorrow,” I say, fighting for the
last bit of consciousness. “My aunt doesn’t come home till
Tuesday. Do you have to go home?”
“I think I might be able to stay.”
“Good,” I say. “That’s good.” And then I fall asleep.
11
 PETER
PRESENT

It’s just a sprain. Thank fuck. It’s hard enough directing a

television show and keeping control on a set when people are
watching your every move and wondering if you’ll ultimately
fail. It would be three times as hard with a broken ankle.
But a couple weeks of ice and rest, and it should be good
as new. The good news for me is that she’s not allowed to
drive. Amber doesn’t think this news is nearly as good as I
do.
“You are not going to drive me to and from the set every
day.”
“Why not?” I ask, “It’s no big deal.”
Amber sco s. “Peter Holleman picking me up every
morning and then a story about the brand new female
director fucking her lead actor? No thank you.”
As much as she’s right, I wouldn’t mind that story.
Especially if it were true. But I’m not going to win her over
by forcing her into a corner. “At least let me take you home
tonight?” I ask. “I’m already here and you’re exhausted.”
She nods. “That’s fine.”
Going to scoot herself into the wheelchair the nurse left, I
stop her. There’s no way I’m letting her out of here in that
chair when I can carry her. I’m not going to miss a chance to
have her that close. Holding her like that, it’s the best feeling
in the world. I never thought I’d get that chance again, and
even if it were only ever that, I’d want to do it every day.
I scoop her up and I savor her small sound of surprise.
“There’s a wheelchair,” she says, even as she’s leaning her
head on my shoulder.
“I’m much faster than a wheelchair.”
“And stronger,” she says quietly. I smile at that.
I get her in the car again and boot up the GPS on my
phone and hand it to her. “Address?” She puts it in and we
start driving. “If I’m not picking you up in the morning, than
who is?”
“Gloria.”
Her assistant. That makes sense, and I can’t think of a
reason that Gloria wouldn’t pick her up. I’ll have to find
another way. Tonight is the first time Amber has shown me
any warmth. She’s kept it very professional, and I know it’s
by design. She’s pissed at me for what happened when we
were young, and she’s terrified that something is going to go
wrong on the show and stall out a career that’s just getting
started.
I get it. I get all of it.
But it’s not going to change the fact that she and I are
supposed to be together. I’ve never felt so certain about
anything. It’s bone deep, and the feeling isn’t going to go
away. I know she still feels something for me—I can see it
when she looks at me sometimes, when she lets her guard
down.
And God, just touching her, I’ve been living in the past for
hours now, remembering everything that happened and
imagining just how good it would be now.
Soon, too soon, we arrive at her apartment. Which sucks
because I’m not ready to leave her. Not yet. She’s in pain and
tired and I want to make sure that she’s okay. I really want
so much more than that but I’ll take what I can get.
“You have your keys?” I ask as I lift her out of the car.
“Yeah. Number twenty.”
Up one flight of stairs and down the hall of the building,
we arrive at her door, and she fumbles with the lock. I push
the door open with my foot, and navigate as best I can in the
darkness. Couch. There. Perfect. I set her down gently and
hunt for the light switch.
“Thank you,” she says before I can find it. “You can go.
You’ve done more than enough already.”
I’m glad it’s dark so she can’t see me shake my head. I
just spent the better portion of the evening holding her in
my arms. Feeling how well she fit and how warm she was.
She smells like cinnamon and spices and if she thinks I’m
just going to dump her on the couch and leave, she’s crazy.
I find the switch. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust,
and then I look around. It’s a nice apartment, cozy, and I
flash back to her childhood home. It has the same kind of
vibe of being casually lived in. “I like your place.”
Amber looks around like she’s suddenly seeing it for the
first time. “It’s okay. A bit small, and I’ve got really loud and
in love upstairs neighbors.”
I laugh. “Too much love?”
“If they kept it to the bedroom it would be fine,” she says,
rolling her eyes, “But it’s in every room. All the time.”
“Passionate.”

“Yeah, it’s what I can a ord right now. Hasn’t been the
easiest year.” She shrugs.
This isn’t in the nicest part of town, and it is a little bit
smaller, but it’s not a bad place. And not something she
should be struggling to a ord, not being the director of
something like Undercover. “What’s made it hard?”
The anger in her eyes is back. “You don’t just get to sweep
back into my life after ten years and know everything, Peter.
That’s not how this works. I know that you think we can just
pick everything back up where we left it, or before we left it,
but we can’t.”
“Of course we can’t do that,” I say, “but that doesn’t
mean we can’t re-learn.”
Amber scrubs her hands over her face. “Peter. This job
has to go perfectly. Do you get that? For all your talk about
understanding how hard it is to be a woman in this industry,
you don’t know. You don’t actually understand because you
haven’t been there. And the shitty truth is that we don’t
usually get second chances. So there can’t be any mistakes. It
has to go well. It has to. So please just go.”
She glances at me when she says the word mistake, and
somehow it both hurts me and gives me hope. I sit next to
her on the couch and grab the blanket from the back of it.
Moving the co ee table closer, I help her lift her leg onto it
so that it’s elevated before covering her with a blanket.
“Peter, what is this?”
“What is what?”
She lifts and drops her hands in frustration. “All of this.
You helping me, constantly being there, telling me you’re
going to make me fall in love with you. Is it some kind of
guilt? Making up for the past or something? Is it because you
can’t stand the fact that someone might not want you
anymore? Even if it’s not any of those things, you need to
stop trying.”
“I can’t,” I say, sitting next to her on the couch, pushing
aside the fact that she thinks I might be trying to pursue her
for revenge.
 “But why?” She looks at me, and her eyes are desperate
for answers.
“Because, even after everything,” I say, “I’ve never met
anyone who makes me feel the way you do. Never. And I’d be
crazy if I let that slip through my fingers again.”
Leaning closer to her, I test her reaction, but she doesn’t
cringe or pull away. There’s no anger in her face or in her
eyes, just confusion and desperation and need. There’s still
something between us, I can feel it, like a thread tying us
together, pulling in my gut.
“What if I can’t?” she says quietly.
“Are you saying that because you’re afraid of what might
happen? Or because I broke us too badly to fix?”
She shakes her head, just a tiny sliver of movement. “I
don’t know.”
“Then let me help you.”
I kiss her, soft, slow, and fucking god. Everything about
this is so familiar and at the same time nothing is. I’ve been
struck by lightning, and the need I’ve been pushing down
the last few weeks comes raging to the surface, and I kiss her
harder. And I don’t know what I’ve down to deserve a
miracle, but I get one because Amber kisses me back.
God, I love her lips. I always have. I run my tongue along
them to feel their softness and she opens her mouth to me
and I can’t hold back the groan in my throat. My cock is rock
hard now and even though I know we’re probably not going
there, I’m imagining us tangled together right here on this
couch, my head between her thighs while she screams my
name and we give her upstairs neighbors a run for their
money.
I pull her closer, close as I can without disturbing her leg,
and I let my hands explore her more than I could when I was
carrying her. I’ve spent every waking moment wanting to
touch her, going insane reliving the moments when I got to
hold her wrist and feel her heartbeat.
This is everything.
Everything.
I love the way she feels under my hands, and I want to
feel her everywhere. Pulling away from her lips, I move to
her neck. I need to taste her skin, that perfect cinnamon
scent overwhelming me. She gasps as I reach that spot just
below her ear, something I remember that drives her crazy. I
learned that by exploring her body inch by inch and learning
what she loves. I hope that there are more new things I can
learn so that I can make her scream.
Suddenly her hands are on my chest, and she pushes.
“Peter, stop.”
I pull back immediately, but my heart is racing and I feel
like I’ve run a marathon. Amber is flushed, her lips just
swollen enough to look thoroughly kissed.
“I can’t,” she says. “I can’t do this.”
“I’m sorry. I overstepped.”
“No.” Her hands are still on me, and her fingers grip me a
little more tightly, like she’s not ready to let go even if she
says she is. “You didn’t, but…”
She suddenly seems like she might cry, and it’s like a
knife in my chest. “Talk to me, Amber. You always could.”
“That’s the problem, Peter. I’m not the same person
anymore. Everything that happened, all this time, it doesn’t
just disappear like that. Not for me. And I can’t promise you
that it will. It’s too much.”
“I’ve wanted to talk to you about that. I can explain
everything. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just wanted you to be
safe. To be happy. To be—”
“Stop,” she says. “I don’t want to hear your explanations.
You chose to ignore my wishes, and decide what you thought
was best for me instead of listening. You made that choice.
And now, just like then, I am not yours to save, Peter. I’m a
person, and I get to make my own choices and my own
mistakes. And since you clearly don’t get that, we’re not
going to be together.”
I sit back and take her in. I see determination on her face,
even if her body says that she’s conflicted. She won’t hear
what I have to say, and that’s okay. That’s her right.
“I understand,” I say. “I do. And I’m going to prove it to
you. Whatever you need from me, you can have. You can
stomp on me until I’m dust and you can make work hell. You
can choose not to speak to me. Hit me if you need to, but I’m
going to be here.
“You are it for me, Amber. It’s the one thing I know so
deeply I can’t change it. I told you that a long time ago, and
it’s never stopped being true. Even when I thought it was
impossible and tried to move on, it was always you.”
Her eyes widen a little, and I see her breath hitch.
I say it again so that it sinks in. “You are it for me. The
end. And I’ll never stop trying to show you that. I’ve made
mistakes, and I know that. But I learn from them. And I
swear to you that I will never stop trying.”
I leave her on the couch, staring after me. She may not
believe me, but she will. I will never stop trying to get her
back, and I won’t stop. I love Amber Dwyer, and I just need
her to realize that she loves me too.
12
 PETER
12TH GRADE

I’m switching the books at my locker when Amber slips her

arms around me from behind. “Hi.”
“Hey,” I say, grabbing my physics textbook before
shutting the locker and turning around to kiss her. It’s the
best part of my day, when we get to spend a few minutes
with each other. This year is busier than last year, and
between rehearsals and homework, neither of us has the
time that we want.
She pushes me back into my locker and kisses me hard,
not caring that we’re in a hallway full of people. Though
those people are used to it. Amber Dwyer doesn’t care about
PDA, and because she doesn’t, I don’t either. I pull her hips
closer to mine so that she can feel what’s beneath my jeans.
“It’s been awhile,” she says.
“Yes,” I say, my voice a bit rough. “It has.”
“Hmm,” she hums, reaching up so she can whisper in my
ear. “What should we do to take care of that?”
“At this point,” I laugh, “really anything.”
She smirks. “I have an idea, but I have to check on
something and I’ll let you know.”
There’s no more blood in my brain, and she can feel it.
She laughs. “In the meantime, I’ve figured out what I want
to do.”
“Do for what?”
Amber hits my arm lightly, and I pretend like she
punched me, making her laugh while she talks. “For my
senior project. I want to get into as many schools as possible
so I have choices, but to do that, I need to showcase as many
skills as possible. So I’m going to do a show, but it’s going to
be all me.”
I raise an eyebrow and stroke my hand down her back.
“All you?”
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “All me. I’m going to
write it, direct it—with the help of Mr. Davidson—film it
while I’m preforming. I’ll do the lights, any sound,
everything. That way I can show that I can do almost
anything.”
It’s the most Amber thing that she’s ever come up with,
and of course it’s brilliant. “That sounds perfect, and like a
lot of work.”
“It will definitely be a lot of work,” she nods. “But it will
be worth it.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I’ll let you know,” she grins, “but right now, you can
meet me in the prop room as soon as your class is done.”
“The prop room?”
“I just have to make sure it’s clear, but I’m pretty sure
we’ll be undisturbed there, if you know what I mean.”
Fuck. Over the last year, ever since we started sleeping
together, we’ve gotten good. Not that I have anything to
compare it to, but holy shit we’re good together. The first
time I made her come just from being inside her was a
moment I’ll never forget as long as I live—a hard fought
victory.
“I know what you mean,” I say, wrapping my hand
around the back of her neck and kissing her so she’s crystal
clear that I understand.
The bell rings, and I groan in frustration. Terrible timing.
Amber laughs and pulls away. “I’ll see you soon,” she says,
eyes full of heat.
“Not soon enough,” I call after her.

The prop room is old and dusty and full of very fond
memories. There have been times when we’ve snuck down
here to fool around, but we’ve never had sex here. But Amber
is a genius, because in the time between when school ends
and rehearsal begins, there’s no reason for anyone to be
down here, unless you’re a guy who hasn’t gotten to sleep
with his girlfriend in more than three weeks.
I feel like I’m about to explode, even if we’ve managed to
fit in a couple of very special phone conversations. “Amber?”
I call.
She’s not here. I don’t have to go through all the twists
and turns of towering piles of props to see that, I can feel it.
She probably got caught up with her teacher. Amber is the
star of our class. Everyone loves her, and everybody wants to
talk to her. In the meantime, I can look for a blanket or
something.
There’s a wider open space in the back of the prop room
where theater kids occasionally come to drink and talk and
make out, and now, have sex.
I grab a blanket and spread it on the floor, along with
some pillows from the ancient couch in the corner. The
pillows are fine. The couch is so old that none of us should
really be sitting on it or breathing near it, let alone having
sex on it.
I hear a shu e behind me. “Amber?”
 “Hiya,” she says, stepping around the corner of piled
stu .
Just looking at her makes me feel like I can’t breathe.
“Looks comfortable.”
I laugh. “Could be worse.”
“It could be.” She’s close to me now, and my blood is
thumping in my ears. “Now kiss me.”
I do, and I couldn’t give a shit about blankets and pillows
as I let myself fall into her. I never get tired of the way
Amber kisses. She puts everything into it, and now, almost a
year after we started dating, she knows exactly what to do to
get me going, and she doesn’t bother holding back either.
She runs her tongue along my bottom lip and lets it tangle
with mine, and I’m reminded of how long it’s been since
we’ve been alone. Too long for my taste. Amber’s hand runs
across the front of my jeans and I can feel her laughter
through our kiss. “Someone’s ready.”
“Of course I am,” I say. “I’m always ready for you.” And
it’s true. Amber could pull me into a corner anywhere and I’d
be ready to do whatever she wanted. It’s a struggle for me to
be in her proximity without being so aroused that it’s
obvious. She tugs my belt o and tosses it to the floor before
shoving her pants down. She drops to her knees, and I’m
about to tell her to wait, but my words turn into a nonsense
sound because her mouth is already on me and I don’t have
the capacity to speak anymore.
God, she’s good. She’s always been good, even when she
was new, but she’s had practice, and the way her tongue
dances under the head of my dick is delicious. Today she’s
not holding back, sinking down so she’s consuming all of
me, a move that takes everything out of me and I can’t
control myself. It’s been long enough that she barely has to
work me for thirty seconds before I give her a garbled
warning, and let go. I come hard and fast, already breathing
hard and feeling exhausted when she lets me go and grins.
“We have some time,” she says, “and I want you to be
with me the way I know you can be, not just hurrying up to
come because we’ve been busy for a couple weeks.”
I pull my shirt over my head and toss it onto my pants.
“You’re evil.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
Amber pulls her shirt over her head and undresses
quickly. I smirk. I’m not the only one that’s eager for this.
“How many do you want?” I ask. I’ve made a habit of asking
how many orgasms she wants, and I try to give them to her,
regardless of how many times we have sex. As good as I like
to think I am, I’m not perfect and we’re not perfect together.
It doesn’t always work for her when I’m inside, but I know I
can make her come in other ways. I grab a condom from my
bag and roll it on in preparation.
“I’d say you owe me at least two.”
I mentally promise to give her more than that, because I
love the faces she makes when she comes. It’s one of the few
times I get to see Amber out of control, and there’s
something fascinating about it. Not to mention it’s fucking
hot. Laying back on the blankets and pillows, I pull her down
on top of me, and she thinks we’re getting straight to it.
We’re not.
I pull her up and over me so I can reach her with my
mouth, and she moans. “You’re the evil one now.”
I hum against her skin. “You love it.”
She can’t even say that she does, because my tongue is
already inside her. I remember a time when we decided to
watch a movie at her house and her parents had already gone
to bed. It wasn’t long before I decided that making her come
when she couldn’t make a sound was more interesting than
watching the movie, and that I wouldn’t stop until it was
over. That was the night I learned that fucking her with my
tongue was an excellent way to make her squirm. And I’m
still learning, and I don’t care what anyone says, guys who
think that sex is all about them—and there are plenty of
those at this school—don’t understand how much better it is
when she feels good too.
So I dip my tongue inside her while she rocks her hips
above me, and I move in patterns and motions and rhythms
that I know she likes until she’s gasping. She’s close. I can
see her face, and her eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, and
I love that look. She’s lost in the pleasure and almost there. I
suck deeply and feel her shudder followed by the burst of
pure essence that’s just her.
Something else I learned: If I don’t let her recover from
one orgasm, she might have another one. So I pull her down
me, and slip inside before she can open her eyes. I know her
body well enough now to do it in one slow movement, and
she almost collapses, her hands landing on my shoulders.
“Don’t move,” she says, voice a little scratchy.
God, she feels amazing, squeezing down onto me while
she rocks. I don’t move, and because of that, her every move
is intensified. Amber straightens and arches her back, riding
me as hard as she can. I don’t mind. She circles and circles
and moves back and forth, driving herself higher, and I hold
on, tensing so that I don’t let go. I’m not done yet.
She cries out, loud in the room we’re in, and comes again,
suddenly collapsing, and I wrap my arms around her while
she finishes, hips still thrusting while she rides it out. Her
lips press a kiss to the skin of my shoulder. “That’s two,”
she says. “Good.”
I chuckle. “We’re not done.”
“No?” She raises her head to look at me, hair falling into
her eyes.
 “No.” I kiss her while I roll us to the side. It’s easier to
pull her in and make out with her like this, so we’re tangled
and I’m still inside her. These are some of my favorite
moments, because I love being connected like this. I like I fill
her, and that she lets me.
That’s all we do for a while, because I love to kiss her, and
having her in my arms. And I’ve learned that she’s too
sensitive and has to take a break sometimes. But she’s going
to come again. I don’t know when we’re going to be able to
have more time alone, so I need to make it count. Even if we
are tempting fate by fucking at school. I don’t care.
“This was a very good idea,” I tell her.
“I know,” she grins, “I’m brilliant.”
“You are.” I reach between us, teasing her, and she arches
into me.
“Mmm,” she says, “I like that.”
So I continue, giving her more of what she likes, kissing
her until she’s breathless from both my fingers and lips and
I feel when she comes, a soft shuddery climax that has her
clenching down onto me. I make my move, rolling again so
that I’m over her, driving into her quick and fast, catching
the tail end of her orgasm and pushing her up into another
one. It’s not until she shivers around me, moaning into my
shoulder that I let myself go, giving into that bright flash of
pleasure the streaks through me. It’s like being with Amber
takes whatever pleasure I can give myself and magnifies it by
ten. I never want it to end, and I try to live in that moment
longer than that moment can exist.
We rest together, both trying to catch our breath. Amber
raises an eyebrow. “Now are we done?”
“Only if you want to be,” I say.
She laughs. “Well, I do have rehearsal in a little bit.”
“Yeah, but I could think of a few things to do so we could
fill that time.”
 “I’m sure you could,” she says, pulling away and sitting
up. “And I want to do those too, but I need to do some work
on the new concept.”
“For your senior piece?”
Amber nods, looking around for her panties.
“Are you going to tell me what the concept is?”
“I will, but not yet. It’s not ready. I want to have a more
solid idea of what I want before I show it to anyone, if that
makes sense.”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling on my boxers. “As long as I’m your
first,” I tease her.
She raises an eyebrow. “You will be,” but then she catches
the joke. “Oh. Yeah.”
I grab my pants and shirt and pull them on while she’s
jumping into her skinny jeans, and manage to grab her bra
before she notices. Watching Amber dress is almost as great
as watching her undress. Okay, that’s not true, but I love it
all the same. Right now she’s hunting for the bra that I’m
holding captive.
“Okay,” she says, exasperated. “Did you throw it
somewhere?”
“No.” I’m grinning though. I have it tucked in the back of
my shirt.
She sees my smile and her eyes narrow. “What did you do
with it?”
“Nothing.” I lift up my hands to prove my innocence, and
I can feel it start to slip.
She wraps her arms around me and pats me down, and I
can’t help the smile on my face from the way her bare
breasts are pressed up against me. Snatching it out of my
shirt, she gives me a look that’s impossibly both annoyed
and amused and puts the bra on.
I shrug as she slips her shirt over her head. “I just
thought you looked better without it.”
 “I know you do. But I can’t exactly go to rehearsal naked,
can I?”
Slipping my finger into the loop of her jeans I catch her
before she can turn to leave. “Depends on which rehearsal.
Here? Probably not. Your house? Absolutely.”
Most of the time we spend the night together we stay at
Amber’s house. Her parents are pretty great, and they would
rather let me stay over than us have sex in a car, or so they
told us when they sat us down and had the most
uncomfortable conversation of both our lives.
My aunt is a bit less understanding. I’m already eighteen,
so she can’t stop me from going to Amber’s house, but she’s
made it very clear that Amber is not welcome to spend the
night in that way. It pisses me o , but I get why. My mom
had me way too young and dropped out of high school. She
doesn’t want me in that same situation in case Amber gets
pregnant. But I’m not stupid, and we’re both careful.
Besides, no way would I get someone pregnant and leave.
If Amber were having our baby, that baby would be the most
loved baby in the universe. For a second, a future spins out in
front of me where Amber and I graduate and both follow our
dreams, but together. We have a house and kids and
everything seems surrounded by a gentle golden glow.
“You okay?” she asks, bringing me out of my reverie.
“I’m perfect,” I say, leaning down to kiss her, and she
goes limp in my arms. It must be one hell of a kiss. And then
she’s suddenly way too heavy. “Amber?”
I pull away, and she’s not with me. She’s in my arms, but
it’s like she’s melted, head falling back with no control.
She’s not conscious. “Amber!” I shout it, but no response.
Shit.
I scoop her up into my arms and run. Or at least move as
fast as I can out of the prop room and through the halls of
the school. Hopefully the nurse is still here. I know she stays
late some days, since she’s also the school counselor. If she’s
here, she’ll know what to do.
Amber’s breath touches my arm, and I can feel a little
relief in the fact that she’s still breathing. But I’ve never seen
her do that, pass out with no warning. God, is she actually
pregnant? I’ve heard of people fainting when they’re
pregnant. I wouldn’t be mad, but that would completely
change Amber’s life, and mine. I would feel…
I don’t know how I would feel. Right now I just want her
to be okay. Please be okay.
Kicking open the door to the nurse’s o ce, I shout.
“Hello?”
I don’t bother waiting outside, I go straight back to the
backroom with the bed and lay Amber down on it. “Hello?”
“Hello?” A voice answers, and the nurse steps around the
corner. “What’s going on?”
“She passed out,” I say, out of breath. “We were waiting
for rehearsal and she just fainted.”
The nurse—I think her name is Miss Stevenson—snaps
into action. “Did she hit her head when she fell?”
I shake my head, “She didn’t fall. I was holding her.” A
furious, anxious, blush rises to my cheeks. “I was holding
her, we were kissing and suddenly she collapsed. I brought
her straight here. Is she going to be okay?”
The nurse is checking her pulse. “I don’t know. I need you
to wait outside though.”
“What?” Panic streaks through me like lightning. “Please
just tell me if she’s okay or not.”
“I will,” she says shortly, “but for privacy reasons I need
you to wait in the hall.” I hesitate and she throws an
annoyed look over my shoulder. “Go.”
I retreat to the hallway, my mouth dry. God, she has to be
all right. Amber is my everything. She’s what makes this
state and this school home. I can’t lose her. She has to be
okay.
She has to be.
13
 AMBER
PRESENT

Gloria appears at my side with a cup of co ee, and of course

it’s made exactly the way I love it. She’s a great assistant,
but I absolutely hate that I can do almost nothing for myself.
It’s been two days since the accident, and she’s been waiting
on me hand and foot. I can’t drive, so she picks me up in the
morning and helps me into the car since it’s still incredibly
painful to put weight on it. She brings me co ee, runs more
errands than I usually have her make.
She deserves a bonus.
But she’s helping me save face a bit because I’d rather
lean on my assistant than run around the set on crutches
looking like an idiot.
“Thanks, Gloria.”
She beams. “Anytime.” Seriously, she fits her name. She’s
one of the most optimistic people I’ve ever met and she
constantly has a smile on her face. It’s almost too much, but
I’m glad that she brings extra light to the set. Especially
today.
According to the schedule, today is the day we film a
pivotal scene, even if it seems mundane on the surface. My
concern isn’t the particulars of the shot, but the fact that
Peter will be shirtless. I might spontaneously combust. It’s
been a long time since I was in the same room with him
while he was naked, but it hasn’t been long since he kissed
me. Kissed me and left me wanting more than I could ever
say, and I pushed him away.
He seems so sure about what he wants—about us. I wish I
could feel that sure about anything anymore. There’s so
much he doesn’t know, and I don’t know how to tell him. I
don’t know how to say that everything seems dangerous and
thin and like it could disappear at any moment, because
that’s what happens when the career you’ve built came
about by random chance, among other things.
I move my leg the wrong way and I hiss in pain. This is
stupid. I was stupid. Couldn’t have just walked o set at a
normal pace, I had to fucking run because I was afraid of an
awkward conversation. Now I have to deal with this.
“Are you okay?” Gloria asks, noticing my pain. “Can I get
you anything?”
“I’m all right,” I say, sighing. “I’ve already taken as
many painkillers as I’m allowed to. I’m mostly beating
myself up for being a clumsy idiot.”
Gloria rolls her eyes. “It could have happened to anyone.”
“But it didn’t,” I say. “It happened to me. Go figure.”
“You’ll be okay in a few days,” she says, putting her hand
briefly on my shoulder.
There’s a murmur on set, and I look over to see that Peter
is here. We’re going to film him waking up, so he’s wearing a
robe open enough to show a hint of chest and it makes my
mouth go dry with want, with need that I can feel settling in
my gut. This is going to be an impossible day.
As if he can read my mind, he turns and looks right at me,
giving me a small wave. Heaven help me, I’m going to catch
on fire.
“He’s doing really well,” Gloria says. “I was a little
nervous when they cast him, because he’s so new. But he’s
nailed every shot.”
“Yes, he has.” I agree.
He walks onto the set and takes o the robe, handing it to
the wardrobe assistant, and Gloria gasps beside me. “Not to
mention that. God, I wish I knew if he was single. I follow all
the gossip blogs, and he’s never in any of them. It’s like
damn, I need some information!” She laughs. “Certainly
doesn’t seem to be living that L.A. life.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah, he’s always been like that. A little
quiet. The L.A. life was never going to be his style.”
It takes a second for me to realize that I’ve said that out
loud. The fact that Peter and I knew each other before this
isn’t common knowledge, and the fact that we were together
is even less. I would call it a secret, but it’s not something I
want making it to those gossip blogs that Gloria was just
talking about. Shit.
The awed silence coming from beside me is all I need to
know that Gloria didn’t miss my little slip up. Dammit. “You
two knew each other before this?” she says quietly. “Really?
How? What happened?”
“I just mean that he seems quieter than most stars,” I
say, trying to do just a tiny bit of damage control.
Gloria’s eyes are wide. “But that’s not what you said, you
said ‘he’s always been like that.’ How long have you known
him?”
My assistant director gives me a thumbs up. We’re ready
to shoot. “Make sure everything is ready to go,” I tell her.
“But—”
“Gloria,” I say softly. “Let it go.”
She blinks, and realizes how much she was prying. I’m
not angry with her. She’s young and a little star stuck, but
I’m not ready to have her be my confidante like that. I feel
bad that I don’t trust her, but I don’t really trust anyone in
L.A. It’s common for people to pass on information, even
when it’s damaging, so they can look like they’re in the
know.
“Okay,” she says, moving away to make sure the cameras
and lights are ready. She gives me a thumbs up and I call out
to Peter. “You ready?”
He beams at me. “Yes ma’am!”
Climbing into the bed, he settles himself into false sleep,
and the sight of him distracts me. I remember times when I
would wake up with him, and he looked like that. Peaceful
and relaxed and perfect. But I push the thoughts away.
“Action!”
Peter lies in bed, acting as if he’s having a nightmare.
Then he sits straight up in the bed, breathing hard, and I
swear that he’s sweating. I’m not sure how he pulled that
o , but the footage is amazing.
Since we want the show to be as technically good as
possible, we’re doing this sequence in one shot, so I watch as
Peter throws o the blankets and scrubs his face with his
hands, trying to clear the nightmare from his head. He
looks…haunted, and I wonder what it is he’s using to put
himself in that state.
He gets up and walks through the set of his apartment,
and the camera follows, sees him enter the bathroom, splash
water on his face. After staring at himself for a beat in the
mirror, he drops the boxers and gets into the shower. The
water steams, and we can’t see him, but we get enough of a
look from behind that any sane person’s mouth would water.
I know mine does.
He showers in silence, and the entire set is still, because
in the shower, Peter—Alex—is crying. Heart-wrenching
sobs that illustrate the character’s PTSD and trauma. It’s
broken and visceral and the camera captures every perfect
second of it.
 Pulling himself together, he finishes the shower, and
wraps a towel around his waist. The final piece of the scene
is Alex making himself some food in his kitchen before he
gets a phone call from his undercover contact telling him it’s
time to go in.
He starts to make an omelet, and then the cellphone on
the table rings. Peter stares at the phone, like he’s horrified
by it. His entire body is tense as he picks up the phone.
“Hello?”
The sound of his voice is shocking, piercing the intense
silence of his scene. He conveyed so much in that scene
without saying a single word. I wait a couple of beats before I
call ‘Cut!”
The whole room breathes again. The wardrobe girl hands
Peter a robe and I wave him over. “That was really good,” I
tell him. “Stunning."
For once, he’s lacking his usual smile and charm. That
wasn’t an easy scene, and there’s still something in his eyes
that’s there. “Thank you.”
“I want to get one more just in case, but I don’t think
we’ll need to do more than that.”
He nods. “Okay. I appreciate that.”
“Can I ask you something?” I look at him noticing how
exhausted he seems after that.
“Sure.”
“What was it? If you don’t mind, and it won’t hurt you
capturing it again, what were you using to summon that
panic?”
Peter looks at me and the full weight of his brown eyes
feels like it might crush me. “You.”
The floor is falling from under me. “Me?”
“That day,” he says, “when you fainted in the prop room.
To this day, I’ve never been so terrified. I had no idea if you
were okay or if I had done something to hurt you. And the
nurse kicked me out of the room and it was even worse
because I couldn’t even see if you were still breathing.”
His voice is raw, and he’s not looking at me. For the first
time, I think I finally understand why he did it. I’d always
thought that it was arrogance—that he thought he knew
better than me, and that’s why he decided to destroy my life.
If it was a boy terrified of losing his girlfriend, if he
thought I might die or disappear, that’s…terrifying, and I
can’t pretend that I wouldn’t have done exactly the same
thing.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He nods again, seemingly unable to speak.
“How much time do you need?”
“None. Let’s do it.”
I swallow. “Reset, please!”
In a matter of minutes, we’re back to one, and I’m
watching it all over again, but this time I can’t keep tears
from sliding down my face, because I’m not watching Alex
this time. I’m watching Peter. I’m watching him relive
thinking that I’m going to die, and how the idea rips him
apart. The second take is impossibly better than the first,
and when I call cut, I look around. There are tears glistening
in the eyes of some of the crew, and I know that somehow,
through the pain, we made magic here today.
14
 PETER
12TH GRADE

The door opens and the nurse comes out. “You can see her,
she’s awake, but she needs to rest.”
I’m o the floor and through the o ce door before she
finishes the sentence. My heart is still pounding, and I feel
like there’s a vice around my chest. She said she’s okay, but
it’s not until I see Amber’s eyes open that I actually sigh in
relief.
My mind was spinning out of control, imagining the
worst. Imagining what life without Amber would be like,
what I would do if she disappeared just like that, like my
mother did. I wouldn’t survive it.
“Hey,” she says, with a crooked smile.
I want to touch her—want to make sure that she’s all
right, but I don’t want to make it worse. Amber has always
seemed to fill the room with her light and personality and
wit, and lying on the cot she looks so small and delicate.
There’s a lump in my throat that I have to swallow. “Are you
okay?”
She waves a hand weakly. “I’m fine. This is nothing.”
I sit on the edge of the cot and take her hand in mine.
“You fainted. I kissed you and you just collapsed. That’s not
fine. That’s nowhere near fine.”
 “I’m fine, Peter. I’m just tired, I’ve been really stressed
about the whole senior project thing, staying up late trying
to get all the work done and learning my lines and stu .”
That doesn’t sound right, but I let a smile come to my
face. I don’t want to let her know how scared I was. If she’s
stressed out, I don’t want to add to it with my own. “Or, you
know, talking to me.”
She blushes. “That too.”
There was a moment last year when I told her that I was
falling in love with her, and she said she was too. But ever
since then we’ve danced around it. I have no doubts about
the way Amber feels about me, and she knows how I feel, but
we’ve never said it. For me, saying it felt scary, like we were
taking a big leap. But after feeling what I just felt, being that
terrified, it feels like absolutely nothing.
“I love you, you know.”
Amber’s eyes go wide, and I see her swallow. “I love you,
too.”
I lean down and press my forehead to hers. “I’m sorry
that I took so long to say it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers, “because you still said
it.”
Her skin is warm under mine. Too warm. “Do you have a
fever?” I ask.
She laughs loudly and it fills the room. “That’s exactly
what I wanted to hear after you tell me that you love me for
the first time.” She collapses into giggles.
I grin. “You’re hot. And I don’t just mean hot. You’re
warm, so I assume that if you don’t have a fever that that
heat is just left over from me making you feel hot.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she smirks.
“I certainly will flatter myself,” I say. “Or was it
somebody else that had four orgasms less than an hour
ago?” I whisper it in her ear because I’m not sure if the
nurse is listening or not and now that Amber is okay, I’d
rather not get busted for having sex on school grounds. I
mean, there are worse things we could be doing. We could
have a secret meth lab down there. But I have a feeling that
there would be some kind of detention for both of us, and
I’m not about to get Amber’s perfect record smudged.
Even if it was her idea.
“Maybe it was all those orgasms making me feel faint,”
she says, batting her eyes at me.
“I hope not.” I’m serious. “I would never want that to
happen.”
She reaches out and grabs my arm. “Peter, I’m kidding.
This had nothing to do with you. I just need to get a little
more sleep.”
“If you’re sure,” I say.
“I’m very sure.”
There are footsteps behind me. “I said to let her rest,” the
nurse says, sounding annoyed. “That means not crowding
her, and not pushing her to do things she’s not ready for.”
What? I give Amber a look, and she gives me one back. I
sit up and move further away from her because I’m not
about to piss o the nurse.
“I called your parents,” the nurse says. “They’ll be here
shortly to pick you up.”
“Wait, no,” Amber says, pushing herself into a sitting
position. “I’m fine. I have rehearsal soon.”
The nurse presses on Amber’s shoulder, insisting until
she lies back down. “No. You need to rest, and nothing else
matters. Rehearsals can wait.”
The nurse turns her back to reach for something, and if
looks could kill, she would be dead from Amber’s glare of
pure fucking fire. She’s about to say something, and I catch
her eye and shake my head. We could sneak her back into
rehearsal later and the nurse will never know, but I can’t say
anything until she’s out of the room.
We wait in unbearable awkward silence for ten minutes
until I hear footsteps in the hall outside.
“Amber?” It’s her mother’s voice, and she pokes her head
into the room. “There you are. You okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” she mumbles.
“Good,” she says. “Let’s go. You too, Peter.”
We both follow her into the hall, and I sneak my hand into
Amber’s and squeeze. She squeezes back. Once we’re in the
hall she turns. “What happened?”
“I think I just got lightheaded. I fainted and Peter brought
me here. But I’m fine, and I am going to rehearsal.” The tone
in her voice surprises me. Amber has a great relationship
with her parents, and I’ve never heard her speak like that to
them.
Her mom raises her eyebrows. “Do you have anything
important tomorrow? Tests? Homework?”
Amber shakes her head. “No.”
“Okay. I’ll let you go to rehearsal, but you’re staying
home from school tomorrow so you can rest before
tomorrow night.” I can tell Amber’s about to argue, but her
mom shuts it down. “That’s the end of it, Amber. Either that
or you skip tonight’s rehearsal. If you’re so exhausted that
you’re fainting, then something’s gotta give. You choose.”
She sighs. “Fine, I’ll stay home tomorrow.”
“And if you feel faint tonight, don’t try to tough it out,
you call me or have someone bring you home. You’re at
rehearsal too Peter?”
“Sure,” I say. I’m not in this play, but no way in hell am I
letting Amber out of my sight for the next couple of hours.
“I’ll be there.”
Her mom nods. “Good. I’ll send a note to the o ce about
tomorrow. I’ll see you at home.” She pulls Amber into a hug
before heading o down the hallway. That’s the way both
her parents are. They’re blunt and to the point—no doubt
where Amber gets it from—and they love her, but they don’t
hover. They only intervene if they have to.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Amber says even though she sounds tired.
“Tonight’s important, and we’re doing a lot of my scenes. If
I skip tonight, we’ll have to rearrange the whole schedule
and that’s a stupid thing to do just cause I need some extra
sleep. Why did you lie?”
I tell the truth now. “Because this scared me and I don’t
want to go home and wonder whether or not you’re feeling
okay. And I don’t think Mr. Davidson will care if I sit and do
homework in the audience.”
She gives me a wary look. “You don’t need to babysit me.”
“I’m not,” I say, and her expression makes me laugh. “I
don’t think I could even if I tried. You’re too damn stubborn
to be babied Amber Dwyer.”
“Damn straight.” She pauses, then laughs. “I can’t
believe the nurse didn’t notice you were barefoot the whole
time.”
I look down, and my toes are poking out from the bottom
of my jeans. “To be honest, I didn’t even know.”
“We should go get our stu before someone wonders why
there are pillows and blankets and random shoes everywhere
in the prop room.”
I imagine someone like the janitor wandering in and
wondering whether there’d been an orgy or a séance and
burst out laughing. “Yeah, I suppose we should.”
15
 PETER
PRESENT

Michael is looking at his phone again, and he trailed o in

the middle of a sentence. I stare at him in the make-up
mirror, hoping he’ll somehow get a clue.
He doesn’t.
I sigh. I’m happy that Michael is a damn good agent,
because if he weren’t, he’d drive me up a fucking wall. I
would have fired him a dozen times over already if he
weren’t so good at his job. I would still be the cliché actor
waiting tables and tending bar if it weren’t him.
I clear my throat. “You were saying?”
“Right,” he says, snapping his eyes to me. “Things are
looking good. The higher-ups are really happy, and there’s
talk of getting a second season green-lit before the premiere
of the pilot next month.” He claps me on the shoulder.
“Congrats, man. You’re putting in the work and it’s paying
o . There would have to be a monumental fuck-up at this
point for things to go wrong, so please, don’t fuck it up.”
That’s amazing news. Not just for me, but for Amber. I
can survive a show going down, because it’s rare for an actor
to get blamed for that. But a director? She was right the
other night, she needs this to be a hit, and it seems to be
headed in that direction. I’m relieved. I want her to succeed
almost more than I want it for myself.
I want her to succeed so much that I’ll back o , because
it’s possible that the way I want to be involved with her—in
the most unprofessional way possible, with her gasping
underneath me for hours while I fuck her, and then hold her
until we’re both ready for more—is exactly the kind of giant
fuck-up that Michael is talking about.
I can see her across the room. Her ankle is better, and
she’s only using one crutch now. She’s making notes on a
copy of the script, her forehead scrunching in a way that’s
adorable and makes me want to run over and smooth it, to
see if I can make whatever she’s thinking about easier.
Since the nightmare scene, she’s looked at me di erently,
and now I’ve caught her eyes following me when they
wouldn’t before. What changed for her? I would love to be in
her head, just for a second, so that I can understand. That’s
what I always did when we were younger, take the time to
understand her. Her mind, her body, her dreams. It’s
frustrating not to have that anymore. Now it feels like
there’s a wall between us so high and so thick that we’ll
never get past it.
Unless the scene from the other day changed that. Maybe,
just maybe, there’s a little crack in that wall now. I just need
to figure out what’s going to be the stick of dynamite that
breaks it all the way open. Unfortunately, I don’t think that
my stick is going to be that dynamite even if I want it to be.
That nightmare scene has had me thinking about other
things we did back then. Like what we were doing right
before she fainted the first time.
We were each other’s firsts. You can’t really break a bond
like that. No matter what happens, we’ll always share that
experience. I haven’t been a saint in the last ten years, and
there’s plenty of sex that I’ll never remember, but I will
always remember that first night. We were both nervous and
vulnerable, and because of that, it was amazing. I’ll never
regret it. I hope she doesn’t.
Amber looks up and meets my eyes like she can read my
mind. And the tiny, shy smile that she gives me is worth
more than a thousand cups of co ee. I’m more awake than
I’ve ever been, because that smile means the wall is cracking
more. I know it.
Fingers snap into my face. “Hello?” Michael says. “I’m
the one who gets to zone out in this relationship.”
“You have a monopoly on that?” I ask, making a face at
him.
“I have a good reason for it,” he says with a glare. “I’m
busy trying to make you a star. You seem to just be ogling
the director, which is monumentally stupid. You’ve never
been one of the people with a wandering cock that I have to
worry about. Please don’t start that now because it makes
everything so much harder.”
I give him a look. “I thought we already had a
conversation about how you are in no way entitled to
information about my sex life? Or that you shouldn’t insult
my professionalism.”
“That look was way less than professional.” Michael
crosses his arms. “I’m seriously looking out for you. I need
her to like you, not feel dumped. Not with what I’ve got
planned.”
“Michael,” I say, voice even, “you are on dangerous
ground. Spit out what you’re thinking and stop insinuating
that fucking women is my only area of interest.”
“Just one woman,” he mutters, while he scrolls on his
phone. But he keeps talking before I can bite o his head,
though I’m not ruling it out for later. “I want to do a strategy
meeting with the three of us,” he says. “You, me, and Ms.
Dwyer. With the way this show seems poised to take o , and
especially if season two is green-lit before the premiere,
she’s going to go places. We have a chance to create some
synergy here. Since you guys seem to be working well
together, it would be good if we could make a kind of…
project partnership if you will. Like Leo and Scorsese.”
That would be…amazing. It’s actually a really good idea,
one of the best that I think Michael has had. “So you want to
get her to agree to take me onto her next project, no matter
what it is?”
“Yeah, that’s the idea,” he says. “If Undercover is well
received, you two together would be unstoppable. But we’d
have a specific window to do that. Do you think she’d be
open to that?”
I think about it. I know the director part of Amber would
jump at the chance. If we teamed up, we’d have double
leverage for our choice of projects. That’s most directors’
dream. So the professional side of her would be into it. On
the personal side, I’m not sure. Not yet. But I hope that she’d
be open. “I think she’d consider it,” I say. “So far, I think
we’ve worked well together.”
I don’t mention anything else, because like I’ve already
made clear, my o set relationship with Amber is none of
Michael’s goddamn business.
“Perfect,” he says. “I’ll get her management on the line
and try to set something up for this coming week. We can go
somewhere fancy, if she likes that sort of thing.”
She was never really a fancy restaurant kind of girl when
we were younger, but I have to own up to the fact that I don’t
really know her anymore. “I’m not sure, but I’ll pay
whatever. Make sure her management knows that it’s on me.
We can’t take her out to court her for a partnership and then
ask her to pay the bill.”
“Of course,” he says. Honestly, Michael probably would
have done that without me telling him to. He may be an ass
sometimes, but he’s an ass who knows the ins and outs of
this business better than me. “How about Swann’s Lake?”
I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard stories about it. It’s
on the beach with ocean views, an upscale restaurant that
I’m pretty sure is formal, and everyone in the celebrity
circles that I’ve encountered raves about the food. “Fine with
me, if her management agrees..”
He nods. “This is good. Really good. We set you up like
this, I think you’re going to be going places. The two of you
can do more than just TV. Film is calling your name.”
I glance over to where Amber is chatting with the director
of photography about how she wants to set up the shot, and I
hope that she’ll agree. Once upon a time I had a vision of
Amber and me living together, making a life together. Maybe
this is a di erent way toward that, making a creative life
together, and if I’m lucky, our personal lives will follow.
That golden vision popped back into my head the moment
I laid eyes on her again, and I don’t ever want to let it go.
16
 AMBER
12TH GRADE

“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready.”

“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I hand Peter the first draft of the script that I’ve been
working on. I’m really proud of the concept. I’ve always
loved the story of Cassandra, the Greek prophetess who was
never believed. So I wrote a script for a one-woman show
where I’ll play Cassandra.
It’s just a first draft, and I know it can be so much better,
but I think it has promise.
Peter smiles. “Do you want me to read it now?”
I nod, biting my lip. “If I let you take it home and read it,
I’d just be driving myself crazy wondering what you thought,
so I’d rather just have you read it now while I wait.”
“Okay,” he says, then leans over to give me a quick kiss.
“Breathe, I’m sure it’s amazing.”
I catch his face in my hands and press our foreheads
together. I love that this is our thing. It grounds me. And if it
happens to remind us of Pride and Prejudice and our first kiss,
then that’s just a delicious bonus.
He starts to read, and I try not to think about it. What can
I do in the mean time? There’s plenty.
 I pull out my notebook and start working my way through
the show, listing the shots as I see them in my head. I know
I’ll have to revise these shots as I edit my script, but as long
as I’m making progress on my project, I feel confident.
I grab my laptop and decide to work on atmosphere. I can
easily kill time on browsing costuming choices and lightning
motifs. The set will be minimal, with just a plain backdrop,
so the audience focuses entirely on me.
I haven’t chosen a costume yet. I’m torn between a
modern look and classic Grecian robe. I click through images
on my laptop, when I hear the shu ing of paper. I look over,
and Peter is replacing all the pages he’s read. My heart stops.
I think it has literally, actually stopped.
He looks at me, and there’s nothing in his expression,
nothing at all. No sign of whether he liked it or hated it, just
seems to be considering me with those fucking beautiful
brown eyes and I’m starting to get distracted by how
gorgeous he is but dammit focus, Amber. “For the love of
God, please say something,” I say.
He doesn’t. All he does is lean forward and kiss me again.
A kiss that’s hard and deep and makes my laptop slide o my
lap as we collapse to the floor together.
He pulls back for a second to look at me, and I can’t keep
my mouth shut. “Is that good or bad?”
Peter starts laughing. “Good. Of course it’s good! It’s an
amazing concept. You thought that kiss meant it was bad?”
“I don’t know, it could be that you wanted to distract me
from how bad you thought it was with an amazing kiss.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Amazing?”
I slap his arm. “Yes. But you really liked it?”
“I did. You really got to the point of it, that people deserve
to be believed, no matter what. Even though it’s early, I
think you got her pain really, really well.”
 “Thank you,” I start blushing even though I hate myself
for that.
“I love you,” he says. “You’re talented, and beautiful, and
I will never understand why you came up to me that day in
the snow.”
“I thought you were hot,” I blurt out. “That, and I had
been watching you, and I wanted to see what your smile
looked like. It’s a good smile.”
“You’re rambling,” he says with that same smile.
“It’s all the adrenaline. Nerves.”
Peter pulls me back up into a sitting position. “This is
going to be great. I can’t wait to see it when it’s complete
and ready.”
“I’m going to need help,” I say.
He shrugs. “Whatever you need, I got you.”
“Thanks. So while you were reading, I was thinking about
whether to place it in the present or the past, and I’m torn,
because there’s a bunch of di erent ways that you could do
it, and it would all mean di erent things, you know?” Peter
has leaned in, and is kissing my neck. Specifically, the skin
right below my ear that makes me tingle. He knows it too.
“Peter I’m trying to focus.”
“I think you’ve focused enough for tonight.”
“There’s so much to do.”
His hands wrap around my hips and pull me sideways.
“Remember when you said that you’d take it easy? This is a
part of that, knowing when you’ve worked your ass o for a
day. And don’t say you didn’t, your mom told me when I got
here that you’d been up here finishing that draft all day.
That you’d barely stopped to eat.”
I lean my head back against the bed. “Fine, you’re right.”
But my head is still spinning with ideas and plans and
decisions that could tilt the project in wildly di erent
directions. Even though it hasn’t seemed like it, I have been
trying to take it easier. I just don’t really know how. There
are things I need to do, and resting seems like a luxury I
can’t a ord. Not yet. I feel fine. Fainting was a one-time
thing.
But if Peter wants me to stop and do…other things the
way his lips on my neck suggest, I could do that. I can always
work later.
I push myself o the floor and onto the bed, and Peter
follows me after shutting the door. My parents won’t open it
if it’s shut, and I’m glad. Even though they’re mostly okay
with this, as long as we’re safe and here, I wouldn’t want
them seeing me in the middle of anything.
The whole at-home thing has been the hard part. My
mother weaseled the fact that we’d had sex before I fainted
out of me and now she’s adamant that any sex takes place
here. A little bit of a mood-killer, but it could be worse. I
could have parents who would refuse to let me have sex at
all, or at least not acknowledge it.
Peter notices that I’m not paying attention, and grins. “I
can get you to stop thinking,” he says.
“Prove it.” I’m still too wrapped up in my head to think of
much else. But then he peels his shirt over his head, and my
brain goes quiet. Peter has the body of someone who plays
sports, and I know he used to, but not since he moved here.
He swims and runs and it shows in the e ortless lines of his
body.
I would love him even if he weren’t perfect, but he is, and
he knows how to use that body well. I let him pull o my
shirt and bra, and then he lies on top of me. Through his
pants, I can feel that he’s hard, and it’s tantalizing. His chest
is hard on mine, and his weight presses me down into the
mattress. It works, though. My thoughts slow down, my
mind becomes calmer, and I let him kiss me. Long and slow
and heat slowly climbing up my spine.
 “Did you just anxiety blanket me?” I ask with a laugh.
“Are those the heavy ones?” I nod. “Then yes, I did.”
“How did you know?”
He just smiles. “I know you. You get caught up in your
ideas and there’s no room for anything else. Sometimes you
have to slow down.”
“And you are the solution to that?”
“Not always. Right now? Yes.”
He shuts me up by kissing me again, tongue diving deep
inside my mouth, his way of telling me that there isn’t going
to me anymore talking for a while. Not about anything other
than what are bodies are doing, at any rate.
At some point he sits back and up just far enough to take
o his pants and grab a condom. I slither out of my sweats.
Most of the time, Peter is a guy who gives in bed. He asks me
what I want and gives it to me without hesitation or thought
about his own pleasure. But right now he seems to know that
I don’t want that. I need what we just had, his weight on me,
literally making me slow down.
That’s what I get.
Peter spreads my legs, gently pressing into my entrance
before lying down again. We’ve never had sex like this
before, and it’s closer and more intimate than anything I’ve
felt. Maybe this is what people say when they call it making
love. That’s kind of what it feels like.
For a long while, Peter doesn’t even move. We just kiss,
and that’s enough. I don’t remember a time when he’s been
inside me this long without any movement. It feels like we’re
melding together.
It’s a nice feeling, to be so comfortable with someone that
just lying with them makes you feel complete. Emotion wells
up in my chest, and tears make their way to my eyes. Which
is strange, because I almost never cry. It just feels so perfect,
that I want to hold onto this feeling.
 “Are you okay?” Peter asks, sounding alarmed.
“Yeah,” I say, voice watery. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be
one of those girls that cries during sex.”
Peter shakes his head. “You’re not. I’ve never seen you
cry, ever. Am I hurting you?”
“No, I just. I love this,” I say, stroking his back. “I love
being so comfortable that we can be like this, and it’s
perfect. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
“For good sex and being comfortable? Every person
should have that.”
“No,” I say, reaching up and running my hands through
his hair. “The fact that I’ve got you. There are people who go
their whole lives without finding something like this, and we
found it in high school. I’d say that’s pretty damn lucky.”
“Yeah,” he says. “You’re right.”
There’s something hanging in the air, like he wants to say
it but he’s unsure. I don’t rush him. Peter’s the quiet one. He
takes longer to say things, but he’s sure of himself once he
decides to say it,.
He looks away, not meeting my eyes. “You know I’m
always going to be there, right?”
I pull his eyes back to mine. “What do you mean?”
Peter swallows. “I mean that you’re it for me. I want to
spend my life with you, and I’ll be there for you as long as
you let me, and that I hope that that’s forever.”
Something goes tight in my chest. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
There’s absolutely no doubt in his tone, and I’ve heard it
before. He’s thought about this, and this is his decision. I
can’t breathe, not because I don’t want that, but because
that seems so…big. Forever is a long time.
“You might change your mind,” I say.
“I won’t.”
“But—”
 He kisses me until I’m breathless. “I love you, Amber.
There is no changing my mind about that. I love every single
thing about you. The good and the flaws, and the things you
think are flaws that aren’t. There’s nothing you could do or
say that would make me change my mind about that. And if
you don’t want to be with me, or you change your mind, that
would be fine, but I’ll never change mine.”
There are new tears in my eyes, and I’m dizzy, breathless.
I feel like I might faint again but I refuse. Not now. Not when
he’s saying these perfect things. I don’t know that I can
really believe them, not entirely. People don’t find soul
mates at eighteen. I’ll be grateful for as long as this lasts.
“I love you,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think to say. I
don’t have the words to say that kind of thing back, but for a
moment, I think that I see what he does. A future.
A future where instead of going our separate ways when
we graduate, we go together, and he supports my dreams
and I support his and we work our way through the world by
each other’s sides. I’ll be honest that I hadn’t really thought
that far ahead, but now that I do, I can understand. There’s
nothing about Peter that I think would keep us from living a
long and happy life together.
We’ve had our fights, everyone does. But we work. He
balances me when I get out of control and too crazy or too
ambitious and I bring him up out of worry and get him to
relax. And yet we want a lot of the same things. Opposites
attract, but not so opposite.
“Oh,” I say, looking into his eyes, getting lost in the color
and the tiny threads of gold in the center of his iris.
“What?”
“I just…hadn’t thought about it. Like…what’s the point in
making plans if you don’t know where you’re going to be?”
“I’ll be wherever you are,” he says with certainty. “After
that, it doesn’t matter.”
 “But what do you want, Peter? What do you want to do?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. After everything,
that’s what I hadn’t thought about until recently. I might try
to act, because I do love that, but I don’t know if I want to
get a degree. Wherever you go, I want to go with you, and I’ll
figure it out on the way, because as long as I’m with you, I
know that I’ll be fine.”
Peter moves my hips, and I gasp, because I almost forgot
that he’s been inside me, and the way my body has accepted
him makes his sudden movement new, and good.
“Okay,” I say, suddenly seeing what he sees. We’re a
team, and he’ll be with me, no matter what. We’ll figure it
out together, and I feel it in my gut that whatever we choose,
it will be better because we’re together. “Come with me.”
“I will,” he says.
And then I can’t say anything because he’s moving again,
and I have to close my eyes. I wrap my arms around him, and
then my legs, and let go, relaxing into this feeling of perfect
certainty. He moves in long, smooth strokes, and the way
we’re pressed together sends him deeper than he’s been
before.
Pleasure begins to bloom in my gut, and I kiss him, urge
him to move faster, whisper in his ear to give me more, and
he does. It’s like light and stars and it’s so good, and we’ve
never been bad. I want to always feel like this, drowning in
pleasure in Peter’s arms.
Rocking together, we speed up until we’re in a frenzy, and
then I shatter, light flashing behind my eyes, the only thing
stopping me from yelling is Peter’s lips on mine, and he’s
moaning too. I’m wrapped up in the feeling, smothered in it,
glazed and burned. It’s amazing. And then it disappears, and
we’re left staring at each other.
We came together, and I hope that we always will, no
matter what happens.
17
 AMBER
PRESENT

I’ve never been to Swann’s Lake, and even with my new

director’s salary, I won’t pretend that a night like this
wouldn’t put a significant dent in my bank account. But
Peter is paying, so I don’t have to worry about it. I know that
it’s a business dinner and not a date, but with the dress I’m
wearing and the place we’re going, it feels like a date even if
his agent is going to be there.
I’ve worn this dress before to the premiere of The Truth of
Life. It’s the only thing that I own that’s remotely fancy
enough for Swann’s Lake, and I’m banking on the fact that
not enough people know who I am that they’d recognize the
dress.
I roll my eyes while looking in the mirror. Only in
Hollywood is recycling the only gown you own considered a
faux pas big enough that it can get you excluded from certain
circles. It’s crazy. But I really like this dress. I liked it when I
bought it, and I would be sad if I only got to wear it the one
time.
It’s a deep blue that somehow doesn’t look terrible on me.
As a natural redhead it can sometimes be a pain to find
colors that make both my skin and hair look good, and this is
one of them. The waist is empire, gathering the gauzy,
flowing material together just under the bust, and the
neckline plunges to that point, from two wide straps. It
shows a lot, but isn’t sleazy, and I like that. From the waist it
drops in a flowing A-line, and whenever I walk in it, I feel
like some kind of sea goddess.
When I put the dress on I was excited, and I still love the
way I look in it. I forgot that I’m going to see Peter in this
dress, and the cleavage feels like too much. There’s a part of
me that wants him to see it, for him to find me as sexy as he
always did, and make good on that promise he made the
other night that he would never give up. And there’s the part
of me that knows that that can’t and shouldn’t happen.
For once in my life I honestly don’t know which of those
things is going to win. I’ve always had good instincts, and
even if I’m torn, I usually know deep down what I want. But
not now. I’m evenly divided. But what my gut is telling me is
that after tonight, I’ll definitely know which one is going to
win.
My phone chimes, and I glance at it. My car is here. Even
if I were o cially cleared to drive again, it would be a pain in
the dress and the heels, so in a car I go. It’s a big SUV, which
isn’t the easiest to get into with my ankle, but I’m healed
enough that I’m just using a brace and sucking it up. Fuck
those crutches, I hate them.
After climbing into the car, the driver confirms the
address and we head o . I’ve left myself enough time to get
there comfortably. My agent and manager were vague about
what this meeting was about, but the fact that they were
comfortable enough with it to let me go with just Peter and
Michael tells me that it’s nothing to worry about.
But that just brings my thoughts back to Peter and the
dress and all the things I’ve been thinking about and
remembering since his scene the other day. It’s like suddenly
I notice him even when I don’t want to. And memories are
emerging from the corners of my mind with alarming
frequency. Some of the things I can’t believe that I forgot.

It takes just over an hour to reach the restaurant, and when I

get out of the car, there’s a warm breeze coming o the
water. I stand for a few seconds, letting it blow through my
hair. I don’t come to the beach enough. I’ve been in Los
Angeles for a year and I can count the number of times I’ve
been to the beach on one hand.
There’s sta waiting by the stairs up to the restaurant,
and when one of them o ers to escort me up the stairs, I
gladly lean on his arm. I haven’t even been out an hour and I
already know that the heels were a mistake. But there’s no
way that you can wear flats with this dress. It just won’t
work.
There are a few people dressed like me in the lobby, some
in clusters drinking champagne. I’ve heard that this lobby is
the place in Los Angeles to be seen, and several big movie
deals have been brokered over pre-dinner cocktails.
I take in the scene before my eyes, and really revel in it.
It’s one of those rare moments when the weight of who I am
and where I am hits me. I’m a director. In Hollywood. Mixing
among the industry movers and shakers. Then I hear behind
me, “Amber.”
I turn and I almost fall over in my high heels. Peter is
walking toward me, and he’s in a tuxedo. A full-fledged
fucking tuxedo, and everything about it makes my heart
pound and my mouth water. He was made for tuxedos. There
should be a law passed that says he’s not allowed to wear
anything else.
The suit emphasizes the width of his shoulders and fits to
his waist like a glove. I’ve seen what’s under there, so I know
exactly what that suit is hugging, and I never thought I’d
think the words, but I’ve never so badly wanted to be a suit.
Get it together, girl. This is a business meeting, not a
date. And you don’t want it to be a date. You don’t. You don’t
you don’t you don’t.
“Hello,” I say as he reaches me.
His eyes are fire as he takes me in. “You look beautiful.”
“Given the way you look right now, I’ll take that as a
compliment.”
Peter laughs softly. “Thank you.”
I hold out my hand for a handshake, but then that seems
too formal. Peter seems to agree, and we end up hugging. It’s
sti and a bit awkward, but a shiver goes through me, like a
sense memory. It feels good. Too good.
Peter pulls away, and then he waves to someone behind
me, and I turn to find Drew Barrymore smiling and waving.
The Maître D’ approaches us, and I’m spared from having to
make conversation with her, which I’m grateful for because
if I’d known that that was going to happen, I’d have to give
myself a pep talk or take a Xanax. Or both.
“Mr. Holleman, your table is ready.”
“Thank you,” Peter says, and holds out his arm to me. I
take it as we follow the man into what seems like
wonderland.
The lobby of Swann’s Lake is understated elegance with a
beautiful chandelier and graceful curtains. The interior is
sheer decadence and grace. Everything is coordinated in
shades of faded peacock. There’s crystal and candlelight and
it all very much seems like it’s lit by the moon even though
the sun hasn’t set.
I’m not sure how they accomplish that, but it feels
magical to me. In the center of the room is a large basin of
water, which I’m sure is meant to represent the lake from
the German folk tale. Though there’s no direct source of the
light, there’s a very distinct moon being reflected in the
water, another touch of brilliance.
Peter and I are seated near the back by a window, so we
get both the ocean views that the restaurant is famous for
and the atmosphere of the dining room. The plates on the
table are emblazoned with a swan with flared wings, and
there are feather accents on the cups and silverware. There’s
not a detail that has been forgotten in this place.
“This is…amazing.”
“It’s my first time too,” Peter says. “This isn’t what I
imagined.”
“They don’t allow pictures, do they?” I ask. “I’m just now
realizing that I’ve never seen any. I feel like I would have
remembered this.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “Because of the clientele, there
aren’t any photos permitted in the dining room.”
I laugh. “It’s a really well-kept secret. I’m amazed that
there’s no photos out there.”
“From what I’ve heard, they have an excellent team of
lawyers and people who comb the internet for pictures. They
want to keep the mystery as part of the allure, so they take it
seriously.”
“Yeah, I get that."
“So,” I say, clearing my throat. “Why am I here?” It’s so
easy to fall into a conversation with Peter that if I don’t keep
myself on track, then suddenly hours will have passed and
we haven’t talked about the thing we actually intended to
talk about. That’s how we got to know each other. After our
first kiss, we would hang out and try to learn our lines for
the play and end up just talking for hours. And of course,
there was kissing. Always that, too.
“We should wait for Michael,” he says.
“Why?”
 Peter shrugs. “It’s his idea. I think it’s a good one but I
want him to be able to pitch it.”
“Fair enough. I guess we can order.”
“Actually no, there’s no ordering, just a chef’s menu.”
Oh. “Okay. Do we know what’s being served tonight?”
“I do,” a waiter says, appearing at the perfect time.
“Tonight we will be serving orecchiette with basil chicken
for your main meal. Appetizers are eggplant and sesame
roses and dessert will be co ee and caramel fondant
fancies.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re very welcome. May I interest either of you in a
glass of wine?”
Peter looks to me, and I nod slightly. "Of course. I’ll leave
it to you to choose something you think goes with the meal.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll bring that shortly.”
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I let my eyes go wide.
“Okay, that food sounds amazing.”
Peter agrees. Even if they’re secretive about the decor, it’s
not a secret that they have amazing food.
Another server approaches the table. “Mr. Holleman,
excuse me, but you have a phone call.”
“Oh? Okay.”
He quickly follows her away and I’m left alone in the
middle of this amazing place. I can’t stop looking around at
the tiny details they’ve added. There are loose feathers
scattered in among the rocks by the lake so it seems like a
swan transformed there. The chandeliers are wrought metal
shaped like wings.
In a way, it reminds me of a circus or a carnival in that
it’s so immersive. Everything has been thought of and
calculated for the perfect user experience.
And then on my other side is an absolutely gorgeous view
of the Pacific Ocean. The sun is setting and the ocean is a
fiery red. I can see the beach grass moving and I imagine
that perfect breeze from outside. I have an urge to kick o
my shoes and go play in the sand. I wonder if I could
convince Peter.
He’s back after a few minutes. “Everything all right?”
“Sort of. That was Michael. He’s had some sort of
emergency with one of his other clients and can’t make it.
He sounds pissed. I feel bad for whoever gets in his way. But
he told me to pitch you his idea so that you can at least start
to think about it.”
“Sure.”
He nods, and suddenly he’s quiet as the waiter appears
with the wine. I get why he’s quiet. Swann’s Lake might have
a no photo restriction, but even though they hire discreet
sta , you never know who talks to whom in this town. If this
is something that’s not set in stone, better to just keep it
between the two of us.
Once the waiter disappears, he takes a sip of the wine
before he continues. “Michael thinks that it would be in both
of our interests to create an informal partnership.”
“Partnership?”
“He thinks that if Undercover gets green lit for season two
before the premiere of the pilot, that we’ll both be in a really
good position. Possibly an even better position if we move
together.”
“I’m not thinking about my next project yet,” I say
honestly. “I’m still waiting to see if this one works.”
“As you should,” he says, “but Michael pitched it to me
like DiCaprio and Scorsese. If we do good work together and
people like it, it’s possible that being a pair would open more
doors together than we would apart.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I say it’s an informal partnership—
though Michael may not want it to be—because I know that
not every project you take on would be right for me, and I
wouldn’t want to restrict you only to projects that I could
participate in. But I think that pairing up for those projects
I’m right for could be really powerful.”
The way he puts it, it makes a lot of sense. “I like that it
would be informal. I wouldn’t want to restrict us to projects
we could only do together—that would be really stifling. But
I think some of the stu we’ve done on Undercover has been
really good, and so I think that could be a really great idea,
for certain projects.”
“Michael will be really pleased to hear that.”
And then we’re quiet. Because we covered in about five
minutes what we were supposed to cover in an entire meal. I
don’t really want to leave because now that I’m with Peter
and I’ve been thinking about him for days, there’s some
stu that we need to talk about. But I don’t think that the
middle of Swann’s Lake is the place to do it.
Peter seems to sense my discomfort. “You want to get out
of here?”
“Yes, please.”
He doesn’t hesitate in flagging down the waiter, and as
soon as he has a nod, he’s up and out of his chair and we’re
heading for the door. I’m sure the food would have been
amazing, and I do want to come back here, but I was
prepared to have a business dinner, and not a heart-to-heart
about the past. For that I need the wind in my hair and a
good view. Or at least I hope that’s what I’ll get, if Peter
agrees.
He helps me down the steps, noticing that I’m not exactly
steady. “Ankle?”
“The shoes were a mistake,” I admit, “but it’s getting
better.” He must have told the waiter to ring the valet
because Peter’s car is there only moments after we descend
the stairs. “In fact, I think it’s better enough that I want it to
be my turn to drive you somewhere.”
“Oh? Is this the part where you take me to a deserted
location and dump my body?”
I laugh. “Don’t be silly. I need you on the set. And if I ever
were to kill you, there would be no body. I’m smarter than
that.”
Peter nods. “I would expect nothing less.” He moves to
give me the keys. “One condition.”
“What?”
“Give me the shoes.”
I make a face. “Did you develop a foot fetish in the last
ten years?”
“No, I just don’t want you reinjuring your foot by trying
to drive my car in four-inch heels.”
“Right.” I fight the blush that rushes to my cheeks, and I
use his shoulder to balance as I slip the shoes o and hand
them to him. My foot feels better immediately, damn him.
Then we’re both in the car, and I was in too much pain to
notice last time, but the way his car purrs is a thing of
beauty. It drives incredibly smoothly, and I almost wish I’d
decided to take him on a drive up the PCH instead of where
I’m actually taking him. A place he’s probably been a
hundred times, but it’s still one of my favorite places in Los
Angeles.
Mulholland Drive.
It’s just as pretty as in the movies, with the city laid out at
your feet. The sun is sinking below the horizon as we break
free of tra c and I make my way to my favorite over look,
even better as the setting sun turns the city to molten glass.
“This is a classic,” Peter says as he gets out of the car.
“But I’ve never been right here.”
“I like this spot,” I say. “It’s just hidden enough that it
doesn’t get a lot of tourists, so most of the time I can just be
by myself or with a couple other people. It’s nice.”
“Thanks for the tip,” he smiles.
“Can I use your car?” He knows what I’m talking about.
“Sure.”
I climb up onto the hood, pulling my knees to my chest
and letting my skirt poof and pool around me. We got here at
the perfect time to see that last blaze of light as the sun
disappears, followed by the rapid draining of any light and
color left in the sky.
“I dreamed of this view,” I say. “For years. It took me a
while to get here though. Sometimes I thought that I wasn’t
going to make it. But I did.”
There’s a silence from Peter, and I can feel him watching
me. Everything between us is hanging in the air, unsaid.
Finally he speaks. “I’m sorry.”
I’m not sure I’m ready for this, but I have to be. “Tell me
why.”
“Why?”
I swallow. “Why you did it, Peter. Why you ruined
everything. Ruined us.”
18
 AMBER
12TH GRADE

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. That word is circling in my

head in time with my heartbeat. My show is tomorrow.
Everything that I’ve been working for, and what I will hope
will be the key to my future, is tomorrow.
The lights flash on, and I start the third scene. I know
everything by heart now. This is mostly just a memory
exercise tonight. I’m saving everything for my full
performance tomorrow.
The past few months have been an absolute whirlwind, or
at least it feels that way. Every day I’ve done something to
shape this show. I did everything, though Peter has been by
my side every step of the way, doing anything I needed, and
supporting me. Sometimes supporting me meant bringing
me co ee. Sometimes it meant distracting me with kisses
and sex until I calmed down about whatever problem felt
insurmountable in that moment.
The rest of my rehearsal goes so quickly that I almost
don’t remember it. It happens sometimes with shows that I
know really well. I slip into the character so deeply that I run
on autopilot. My brain was making lists, instead of paying
attention. I need to make sure someone picks up the
programs tomorrow morning. Send someone to get extra
cups and ice for the reception after the show.
I’m walking o the stage when it happens. Suddenly I can
hear my heart pounding in my ears and everything feels
weak. Shit. This can’t happen now.
This has been happening more often, but it’s been in
places that weren’t noticeable. While I was sitting in class,
getting ready for bed, at the breakfast table. I can’t a ord to
have it happen while I’m on stage.
I don’t catch myself soon enough, and my knees buckle
just before I make it o the stage. I manage to grab the wall
so I don’t fall all the way, but it’s enough.
“Amber!” Peter’s voice calls from the audience. I haul
myself to standing but I know that I’m not steady, and I hear
his footsteps pounding for a second before he reaches me.
His arms are around my waist, and I’m glad for the
support, but I’m furious at my body. Just get through
tomorrow and we can sleep for a week. It will be fine, just cut
this shit out for another day.
“What’s going on?” he asks, concern thick in his voice.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I just forgot to eat lunch and
the lights are hot.”
He leads me down into the auditorium and puts me in a
seat. “We ate lunch together, Amber. We had pizza and you
complained about having too many pieces.”
“Right.” Shit. I’ve never been a good liar, but that’s bad
even for me.
He stares at me, waiting for me to speak, but finally does
when he realizes that I’m not going to say anything. “It’s the
same thing, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about? I’m fine.”
“No. You’re not. You think that I haven’t noticed, because
you have barely stopped to notice, but you’re running
yourself into the ground. You’re exhausted, and it’s
showing.”
I press my lips together. It would be hypocritical of me to
get mad at him for being observant when my observation
skills are basically the whole reason we’re together.
Mr. Davidson couldn’t be at this final rehearsal, but I
know that he wouldn’t be happy with this. He’s a big
advocate for keeping a healthy balance in your life, and this
would be upsetting.
“Don’t say anything,” I tell Peter. “You can’t say
anything. I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Peter,” I beg. “I have one more day until it’s all done.
That’s it. This is all gonna be over and I can sleep as much as
it takes for me to get back to normal. You can even sit in my
room and make sure I do if it makes you feel better, but I
have to do this.
So please just don’t say anything.”
Peter searches my face, and I can tell he’s mulling over
every option that he has before he says anything. Finally he
says, “Okay.”
“Thank you.” I throw my arms around his neck and lean
into him. “Thank you.” I kiss him, and he kisses me back,
but it’s not the way he normally kisses me. This feels
hesitant, and worried. I’m feeling better already, more
energized by the fact that this is all going to work out. It’s
going to go perfectly and then together we’re going to take
the world by storm.
“You’re done for the night though, right?” he asks.
I hadn’t planned to be. I can think of a hundred details
that I want to check and recheck, but if it will keep all of this
from derailing, I can try to relax. I suppose there’s not much
that’s going to change with those details. At least not much
that I can change in twenty-four hours.
 “Yeah,” I say. “I’m done.”
“Okay. Can I stay with you tonight?”
I know that he’s asking because he’s worried and he
wants to keep an eye on me. He’s been staying with me more
often than not the past few weeks, and I sleep better with
him there. “Yeah,” I say.
He helps me up, and I’m perfectly steady now. But he
doesn’t let me go, hands hovering, touching my shoulder,
my hip, my lower back, like he can somehow transfer
strength to me from his touch. It’s sweet.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says, but his eyes are still filled with
worry, and I can’t help but wonder what that means.
19
 PETER
12TH GRADE

I can hear her voice through the door of the o ce. She’s
yelling. I don’t know exactly what she’s saying but I don’t
have to. It’s clear that Amber is furious. I cross my arms and
wait. That’s all I can do.
Wait for the aftermath, because I’m the one that did this.
I didn’t mean for it to go this way, but I can’t take it back
now. At Amber’s house last night, she passed out so quickly I
was shocked. I snuck down to the kitchen to get a snack and
her mother was there. She was making gift bags for the crew
working Amber’s show, and she asked me how everything
was.
I’m an okay liar—something acting has gifted me—but
Amber’s parents can smell a lie a mile away. So I just
mentioned that Amber didn’t seem like she was feeling well,
and that didn’t satisfy her. Finally, everything came out. The
way Amber almost fainted again, how tired she’s been, and
the things that Amber doesn’t seem to remember: she’s been
falling asleep in strange places for a few minutes, backstage,
doing homework, almost like mini-faints.
I don’t know what to do because she claims she’s fine but
she’s not. However, I know that this show means everything
to her, and if she thinks that she can hold on one more day,
then I believe her. But it all came pouring out in that kitchen,
and I could see it settle in her mom’s face.
It wasn’t until everything was already out that I realized
the mistake I had made. I shouldn’t have said anything, or
should have made something up about finals and graduation.
Anything. Anything but this.
She quietly asked me to leave. She said she wasn’t mad,
but she and her husband were going to talk to Amber in the
morning, and she thought it was better if I wasn’t there. She
thanked me for telling her.
I never thought a thank you could feel like a knife in the
heart.
Amber didn’t come to classes this morning, and I heard
from a friend that she went into the Principal’s o ce with
her parents and Mr. Davidson. So that’s where I am now,
listening outside the door, trying to pick up any of what
she’s saying. She’s still yelling, and even though she still
sounds furious, she’s also heartbroken.
That tells me most of what I need to know.
There’s another, opposing voice, and that quiets her.
There isn’t anything else that I can hear. Suddenly the door
to the o ce opens and smashes into the wall with a bang.
Amber freezes when she sees me. Tears are streaming down
her face, and I barely recognize her because of the rage and
grief in her eyes. Shock, and then anger, fill her face as she
takes in that I’m there.
“How?” she asks, voice barely a whisper. “How could you
do this to me? You promised.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t think that this would happen.
I didn’t realize they’d involve the school. I was worried and I
just wanted you to be okay. I—”
“Worried?” she cuts me o . “You destroyed my life
because you were worried?”
“What are you talking about?”
 “The show is o ,” she says viciously. “Everything is
gone. Down the drain because of you. They won’t let me
perform because they think it might endanger my health.”
Cold, brutal, guilt pours over me. “Amber, you’re sick.
You’re passing out and you barely remember. I’m sorry, I
never thought that it would a ect the show.”
“I told you I was fine,” she says. “All I had to do was
make it one more day, and you couldn’t even wait that long
to stab me in the back? This was everything, and now it’s
gone.”
“I love you,” I say. “I love you more than anything, and I
wanted to protect you. I would never hurt you on purpose.
I’m so sorry. Please…” I trail o because the look she’s
giving me is one I’ve never seen. It’s one of indi erence.
Like a switch has flipped and suddenly I’m no one.
“If you loved me,” she says, “really loved me, then you
wouldn’t have set my future on fire.”
My future. Not our.
Amber turns and walks away. I call after her, but she
doesn’t turn. She disappears around the corner and doesn’t
come back. She doesn’t come back to school. Doesn’t come to
graduation.
I never see her again.
20
 PETER
PRESENT

“I never meant for your show to be cancelled,” I say. “I

never meant for anything bad to happen to you. I loved you
so much, and I thought you might be sicker than you were
letting on. Your mother caught me in a lie, and I couldn’t
find a way out of it. Believe me, I’ve thought of a thousand
things that I should have done since then. I should have
made something up. Should have kept my mouth shut. So
many things.
“Amber,” I shake my head, “the last thing I ever wanted
to do was set your future on fire. All I wanted was for you to
be okay, and I thought that I was helping. I thought that the
worst that would happen was that your mom would make
you go to the doctor after the show. They’d been completely
supportive, and I never thought—” My voice cracks as
emotion wells in my chest. I’ve been over this train of
thought so many times, imagined how this conversation
would go, and now it’s here.
A breeze rushes up over the mountain, and catches
Amber’s hair in the breeze. In the last rays of the dying sun,
it’s like I’ve never seen her before. She’s always been
beautiful, but now that I’m able to tell her what I’ve been
dying to for years, I feel like she’s radiant. She took my
breath away when she walked into the restaurant, and
everything that I already knew was confirmed. I never
stopped loving Amber Dwyer. I was kidding myself if I ever
thought that.
It’s overwhelming, this emotion. “I’m so sorry. If I could
turn back time, and do it again, I would. I would do it this
second, so that you could have everything you wanted.
Everything that we wanted together.”
She stares at me for a long time, saying nothing. So long
that the sun fades and we’re left with just the lights of the
city. “I was angry with you for a long time,” Amber finally
says. “I mean, I let it go a long time ago, but when you
showed up on set, it all came rushing back. I couldn’t seem
to get over the fact that you did that. That you knew
everything I had gone through to get that show o the
ground, and you still decided that you knew better than I did
about what I needed.”
I don’t say anything. I’ve said enough, and now I need to
take whatever she decides to give me.
“It hurt, worse than almost anything I’ve ever felt. And
even with everything that happened in the year after that,
stu that you don’t know, Peter, I hated you.”
“I don’t blame you.”
She tucks her knees further into her chest, holding them
tight. “I never thought about what it must have been like to
see me get sick like that. Not until the other day when we
filmed…you know. And I still don’t think you should have
done it, but I can forgive you now. Especially because of what
I’m going to tell you.”
I move beside her and lean against the car so that I can be
closer.
“Just like you thought, my mother did take me to the
doctor. And it wasn’t just exhaustion.”
Pure and real fear runs through me. “What?”
 “I have an arrhythmia. My heart doesn’t beat correctly,
and that’s when it started fucking up. It wasn’t regulating,
and between my trying to get everything o the ground and
running myself ragged, I made it worse. So I was sick, and I
didn’t know it.
“I still graduated, but I didn’t come back to school
because I was going for second opinions and tests and every
doctor my parents could think of to make sure that there was
only one solution.”
“What was it?”
Amber shivers, and I take my suit jacket o and wrap it
around her shoulders. She smiles a little. “That summer I
had a pacemaker put in. My parents asked all the colleges I
had applied to to hold my application for medical reasons,
and I spent the year taking very limited courses at a
community college while I was monitored and adjusted to
living with it. Learning the things I could and couldn’t do.”
There’s no breath in my chest, and Amber keeps looking
out at the city even though I can’t stop looking at her.
“So even though I was furious at you and wanted to hurt
you in every way possible, you did what you set out to do.
You made it so that I was okay, even though you never
knew.” When she looks over at me now there are tears in her
eyes. “You saved my life, Peter.”
I have no idea what to say. This is the last thing that I
expected. “Are you all right?” It seems such an inadequate
question.
“Yeah,” she says, clearing her throat. “I’m good. Now. I
have to be careful sometimes, but it’s working perfectly.”
She touches her hand to her chest.
“I know it’s stupid that I didn’t realize that you did it
because you cared. At the time, it was so painful that I
couldn’t see it. And even when I realized that might be the
case, it was still such a wound that I didn’t want it to be true.
I wanted a reason to hate you. But now you’re here…” she
says, “and I can’t.”
I’m leaning in to kiss her before I can stop myself, and
she tilts her face up to meet mine. It feels like something
new, both of us searching for the past but finding the future.
I reach out and pull her closer, savoring the feeling of her in
my arms. I need more, and now that this wall has finally
cracked, I might be able to. “Amber.”
“Peter.”
“Let me take you home,” I say. “Please.”
“Okay.”
21
 AMBER
PRESENT

“Okay,” I tell him. I’m almost surprised that I say it, but this
drive that we took, everything that he said and everything
that I said, that part of me won. I can’t deny it anymore. I
need to be with him. We have too much unfinished business
between us, and now that the air is cleared, I finally feel like
I can breathe again.
Peter scoops me up o the hood of the car and carries me
to the passenger seat. “My ankle isn’t so bad that I can’t
walk,” I tell him.
“I know.” There’s a small smile. “I’m just making sure
that you don’t run away from me again.”
“I won’t.”
He kisses me, soft and slow, and I start to feel a familiar
heat in my blood. I never thought this would happen again. I
was too angry and too hurt. But seeing the way Peter looks at
me, the truth in his eyes and voice, I believe him. And if I’m
being really honest with myself, I’ve known the truth for a
long time.
I think my anger at Peter was the only way that I could
hold onto him. It was the only thing that I had left. But now,
being able to let it go is like releasing tension that I hadn’t
even noticed that I was carrying. It’s so relieving that I think
I could fall asleep as Peter drives us to his house. Except for
the fact that I know where this is going, and I’m as nervous
as I am excited.
Peter reaches across the seat and takes my hand,
threading our fingers together. We’re quiet, but it doesn’t
feel uncomfortable. There’s just not much to say. We’re both
processing our confessions, and what it might mean. I can’t
speak for Peter, but I’m suddenly re-evaluating a lot of
things that I thought weren’t possible anymore.
There was a time when I dreamed of Peter and me taking
on the world together. Now I wonder if that could be the case
again, both professionally and personally.
We pull into a shady drive, and Peter parks the car. I wait
for him to come around to my side of the car, but I don’t let
him carry me. Taking my shoes from his hands, I let him
take the other and pull me gently up the walk to his front
door.
“You have a nice place,” I say while he’s unlocking the
door.
He laughs. “You haven’t seen the inside yet.”
“I don’t need to. You’ve always had good taste.”
I’m correct. Peter’s house is decorated in warm whites
and wooden accents with a minimalist touch that I
appreciate.
We walk into his kitchen, which is beautiful and open,
and he pulls his tie o , which is distracting since he’s now
showing a hint of chest. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Yes.” I’m going to need one. I’m not scared of Peter—I
could never be scared of him, but it’s been a long time since
we’ve done this, and it’s entirely possible that our baggage
could end up in bed with us.
He grins, at least partially back to himself. “How strong
of a drink?”
“I’m not driving, so hit me.”
 There’s a bar cart against one wall that’s well stocked,
and he walks over to it, and pours himself a drink. “I don’t
know what kind of alcohol you prefer.”
“Vodka or rum,” I say. “And I don’t care if it makes me a
sissy, I prefer drinks where you can’t really taste the alcohol
.”
Peter laughs, a freer sound than I’ve heard him make in a
while. “I don’t think that anyone’s used the word sissy since
we were in high school, and you should never apologize for
your taste buds.”
“True. If you have any mixers that are fruity, that will
work.”
“Oh,” Peter says, winking, “I have all the mixers. Spent a
bit of time behind the bar before I had my big break.”
I toss my shoes in a corner, and sit on one of the cushy
barstools. “Then make me something amazing.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He smiles.
I watch him put a few things into a shaker, and he mixes
it together, and then he adds another ingredient and mixes it
again. He pours it into a tall glass and adds a lime garnish,
then presents it to me with a flourish.
“What am I tasting?”
“No spoilers. What fun would that be?”
I raise an eyebrow, but don’t protest as I raise the glass to
my lips. It’s both sweet and tart. There’s a hint of apple and
cranberry, and something else I can’t name. It’s really good.
“Mmm. I bet you made a bundle in tips.”
He’s close. So close that he could kiss me, and I hope that
he does. “I did okay.”
“Did you do okay because you made good drinks or
because you happen to be really hot?”
Peter undoes another button on his shirt, never taking his
eyes o mine. “I’ll plead the fifth on that one.”
 “Of course you will.” I take another sip of my drink
enjoying the sweetness of it and the fact that it’s already
making my head swim a little. We didn’t eat dinner. “I’m
going to be a light-weight tonight.”
“I can order food,” he says.
“That’s probably a good idea. Especially since we might
be hungry later.”
His face is suddenly innocent. “Whatever will we be doing
that would make us hungry?”
“I have no idea. I’d show you, but you haven’t ordered the
food yet.”
Peter swivels the bar stool so that I’m facing him. “Are
you withholding sex until I order you food?”
“It seems like a fair trade,” I say, shrugging while
downing more of my drink.
“You might have a point.” He fishes his phone out of his
jacket and focuses. There’s tapping, and more tapping, and I
enjoy the buzz that’s in my head and in my veins while he
finishes the order.
“Okay. There is a literal mountain of Thai food on the
way. But that means that I can’t take you to bed until it gets
here.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Peter says, stepping up behind me and placing
his lips against my neck, “once I take you to bed, I don’t plan
on leaving that bed for several hours. I’m not going to be
interrupted by some college kid ringing my doorbell.”
“Several hours?” I spin to face him. “What exactly do you
have planned?”
“Everything.”
I pull him closer, so that he’s standing in between my
legs, his hands running down my back. “That’s not very
specific.”
 “I’m good at improvising,” he says, “and we have a lot of
time to make up for.”
I tilt the rest of the drink into my mouth before placing
the empty glass on the bar. “I don’t know if we can make up
for ten years of lost time in one night.”
“I don’t know if we can,” he says, “but we’re certainly
going to try.” He leans in and I can taste the whiskey on his
lips. They’re soft, and I’m reminded just how much I loved
kissing him. Love kissing him.
I can take all my statements about the past and make
them about the present. That’s going to take some getting
used to, but I think it’s going to be good. Who am I kidding?
It’s going to be amazing.
“I’m going to have to go home in the morning,” I say. “I
can’t exactly show up to the set in this dress.”
“You could do exactly that,” he says. “We have an entire
room of costumes that you could borrow.”
I laugh. “A costume?”
“You really think someone is going to notice if you
borrow a pair of jeans and a shirt from wardrobe?”
He has a point. “You’re probably right. I’ll just have to
figure out how to sneak into wardrobe in a goofy blue dress.”
“You’re smart,” he says. “You’ll figure it out.”
He kisses me again, sliding his tongue along my lower lip
in a move that’s achingly familiar. I open to him and it feels
like gorgeous surrender. My brain is now on board with my
body and fiery need snaps through my veins. “Are you sure
we have to wait for the food?” I ask.
There’s a low sound in Peter’s throat, and suddenly I’m
o the stool and into his arms and we’re climbing the stairs.
Suddenly we’re in what must be his bedroom. The bed looks
enormous and inviting, but I’m caught on the fact that he’s
holding me again.
 This time there’s not pain to distract me, my brain isn’t
trying to tell me to ignore the firmness of his chest. I’m close
to him and so utterly aware of his hands. My own hand is
draped around his shoulder, playing with his hair. Setting
me down on my feet, he takes my face in his hands and
presses his forehead to mine.
The moment hangs in the air, the perfect bridge between
the present and past, and that feeling doesn’t disappear
when he pulls away.
“The Thai place is close by,” he says, “and they’re fast.
They should be here in just a few minutes. Wait here. I’ll be
back.”
He doesn’t say more, but when he tangles his fingers in
my hair and tilts my face up to meet his, his kiss tells me
everything that he left unsaid about what would happen
when he came back.
Peter tears his lips from mine like it might kill him, and
leaves the room before I can blink. I sway on my feet a little,
still recovering. Wow.
I take the moment to look at his bedroom. Almost the
opposite the rest of the house, it’s decorated dark and richly,
with thick carpet and a bed that has to be a custom frame for
how large it is.
The large windows he has look out over the
neighborhood, with a pleasant view of waving palm trees
and the sky glowing with city lights. Behind me, downstairs,
I hear the doorbell ring. That’s the food. My stomach
tightens, because that means that Peter is coming back, and
then everything after.
I wait, holding my breath, until I hear his footsteps on the
stairs. He looks like a di erent version of himself: sharp and
unyielding and hungry, and he doesn’t miss a beat crossing
the room and pulling me firmly against him. He takes my
mouth, and this kiss is di erent. It’s overwhelming with
everything that he’s been feeling since he saw me again.
This kind of passion is the kind you can fall into and
never come out of. “We’re not leaving this room until I’ve
relearned every inch of you,” he says.
I swallow. “That’s a lot to learn.”
“We’ve got all night.” His hands stroke my shoulders,
and the buzz of vodka in my veins is the thing that is keeping
me from shaking with nerves.
Peter’s thumbs hook under the fabric of my dress and pull
it aside, letting it fall. It’s enough that the entire dress slips
down to the floor, and suddenly I’m in nothing but panties.
His eyes devour me, and I think I might combust from the
heat.
With gentle hands, Peter guides me to the bed and lays
me down, and I can’t help but notice the symmetry between
our first time doing this, and our first time doing this now.
His lips fall on my neck, in that perfect spot, and I close my
eyes.
It’s like we’ve never been apart. He finds those spots on
my body that make it sing like he’s been practicing this
whole time, and I respond to him. His mouth leaves trails of
flames across my collarbone and down to my breasts.
The sound he makes when he covers my nipple with his
mouth is almost feral, and I moan because yes, it feels
perfect, pleasure spiraling outward from his lips and
downward and upward and I’m so wet with need that I’m
squirming underneath him.
His hand falls on my chest between my breasts as he
switches sides, and he laughs. “Squirm all you want, it’s not
going to make me move any faster.”
So that hasn’t changed, at least. Peter always took his
time during sex, and it was always amazing. The edge he has
now, telling me exactly how it’s going to be, is once again a
reverse of how it used to be. He always used to ask. But if he
asked now, I wouldn’t know how to answer. So I sink into his
confidence, and something in my mind eases.
He teases my nipples with his mouth until they’re so hard
that they’re aching, and even after that, he uses his fingers
to pull and pinch, and my hips are bucking up into him
wanting more, needing more. Please.
I asked out loud. Begged. But Peter shakes his head. “No.”
He’ll give me that pleasure, I know it, but I’m going to
pay for it. I’m going to pay for the ten years we spent apart
with his hands on my body, with exquisite torture while he
lives out every fantasy he’s had.
I’m going to love every second.
Sliding his hand down my stomach, Peter slips his hand
into my panties, and I’m so wet that his fingers come back
slink and shining. He traces them on my nipples so they’re
wet too before he licks it o , and watching him do that
makes me shake with arousal.
“I’ve always loved the way you taste,” he says, voice low
and rough. He cleans his fingers after he finishes with my
breasts. “I could drink that every day.” His eyes flash to
mine. “Maybe I will.”
I try to say something in response, but nothing comes
out. It’s all too much, and not enough.
Peter’s mouth returns to my skin, and it’s moving again,
downward and downward, lips leaving a trail across my
stomach and around my belly button until he’s nipping at
my waistband.
He slips them o , and for the first time in ten years, I’m
naked with him. I feel that familiar blush rising to my
cheeks. This doesn’t get any less vulnerable with time, and I
close my eyes.
I feel him move, and then feel his breath. “Amber.”
“Yeah.” Opening my eyes, his face is right there.
 “You don’t need to hide from me.”
I nod. “I know.” And I do know that, I do. “It just feels
like so much.”
Peter’s eyes study me in that way he has, like he’s
searching for something that only he can see, and I have to
wait for him to find it. Suddenly he leaves, climbing o the
bed and strips o his clothes with ruthless e ciency. I’d
seen part of him, we’d all seen part of him that day on set,
but the whole package is…breathtaking.
And I don’t just mean his package.
Which of course, is breathtaking. He’s fully hard, his cock
jutting out from his body like a declaration of everything
he’s been saying and doing. It’s bigger than he used to be.
Everything about him seems like it’s bigger than it used to
be. Harder. More defined.
Rolling on a condom, he returns to the bed and hovers
over me, kissing me until I’ve forgotten that I was nervous
and blushing and I’m pulling him closer instead.
Reaching between us, he fits himself against my entrance
and budges his way inside, pushing and pushing, not
stopping until he’s seated as far as he can go. And then he
lowers himself onto me. His weight takes my breath from my
chest, but I remember this. He used to calm my thoughts
with all of himself.
“I think this time it has to be di erent,” he says. “It can’t
just be you first or me first. This time, the first time, it has to
be together.”
That’s what clicks. “Yes.” We’ve been too far apart for too
long and I need something to prove that even though we
want this, we still work.
“Though fair warning,” he says, a feral smile on his face,
“I’m going to taste you tonight. More than once.”
I swallow. “Be my guest.”
 He chuckles, but then he starts to move and neither of us
is laughing anymore. We’re both breathless, gasping with
this feeling that’s both new and old and familiar and
exquisite. Pleasure bursts from me with every stroke, and
Peter doesn’t take it slow. Neither of us can handle that. We
need this. Now.
I wrap my arms and legs around him, urging him on and
holding on for dear life. I have to close my eyes. I can’t see
anyway with the flashes of light blinding me. My voice is
breaking, crying out with every thrust, and my orgasm
rushes to meet me like a wave, fast and fierce and blotting
out everything in the world.
My pussy is spasming, gripping Peter, and he grunts as
he comes too, spending himself and thrusting deep before
holding himself still while he’s wracked with the same
pleasure that I am.
I move my hands to the sides of his face and pull him
down to kiss me. That was fast and raw and perfect. We
needed this to be together.
“Amber,” he says, but nothing else.
“I know.”
Then he rolls us over on the bed and takes me to entirely
new heights of pleasure.
22
 AMBER
PRESENT

I sneak out of Peter’s house while he’s still sleeping. I spend

a few minutes making co ee, and I leave a cup by the bed for
him with a note telling him that I’ve gone to the set early. He
had a good point about borrowing clothes from wardrobe,
but it’s not a good idea for us to show up to the set together
with me wearing this dress.
Alone, I can make up an excuse like I went to a party or
something. Together has implications. And they’d be true,
but we really don’t need people to know that. Not right now
while the fate of the show is still hanging on the carefully
balanced tip of the knife.
It takes longer for me to leave than I wanted though,
because I just like looking at him. He’s just as beautiful when
he’s sleeping, and the opposite of that fierce man that took
me over and over again last night. That man is amazing, and
far more than I ever imagined.
I haven’t had a night like that…ever.
But the one sleeping in front of me is softer and more
peaceful. I love both of them.
My mind stops in its tracks. Love. Could it be that fast? Or
is it possible that after loving him so deeply that I never
really stopped? I just pushed it under the surface until I
couldn’t recognize it anymore.
I don’t know. Either way, love is what I feel. For better or
for worse. The car arrives, and if the driver thinks it’s weird
that I’m coming out of a house in a full on ball gown at seven
in the morning, he doesn’t say anything.
Then again, this probably isn’t that uncommon of an
occurrence here.
He drops me o at the entrance to the studio lot, and I
hobble my way across to our set and the wardrobe
department. There’s nobody here yet since there’s a later
than usual call time.
I have no idea what I’m going to wear, but the first thing I
do is find a bag to stu my shoes in to, and eventually my
dress.
God, I’m never going to be able to look at this dress again
without thinking about Peter peeling it o me. Not that
that’s necessarily a bad thing. Walking through the racks of
clothes, I find a pair of cute jeans in my size, and a bra. No
way I’m going all day without a bra.
That sorted, I stu the dress in the bag and head o to
look for a shirt. I’m in the middle of the racks with only
jeans and a bra on when the door to the wardrobe closet
opens. I duck behind the clothes and peer at the door, trying
to see who it is. I nearly collapse in relief when Peter steps
through the door.
“You almost scared the shit out of me,” I say, standing up
straight. “I’m over here in only a bra.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “I got your note, though I
would rather have woken up with you in my bed so I could
have completed my plan.” He makes his way through the
racks of clothes while he talks to me, until he’s standing
right in front of me. His hair is still wet from a shower, and
he’s wearing a t-shirt that’s tight enough to make my mouth
water.
“What was your plan?”
He backs me up against the wall until his hips are
pressing into mine and I can feel his cock through his jeans.
“To roll over and ravish you until your voice would be
hoarse all day.”
I swallow. “That sounds like a fun plan.”
“Yes it is,” he says, starting to undo the buckle on my
borrowed belt.
“Peter.”
“Amber.”
I shake my head. “We can’t do this here. Production sta
will be here soon.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to be fast.”
“I—”
His hand slips down the front of my pants and I stop
protesting. Because the minute he started talking, I became
wet, and his fingers on my clit right now are making me feel
things that make it utterly impossible to talk. He shoves the
pants o my hips and the panties too. “Spread your legs.”
I obey. His pants are undone, and he strokes himself,
showing how hard he is, how ready. “I don’t have a condom
but I’ll pull out,” he says. “You okay with that?”
The thought of being skin on skin with him is so
mouthwatering, that I nod. He leans down, fitting himself
into me and thrusting upward. I have to come up onto my
toes, and I know that if it weren’t for his cock, I wouldn’t be
able to stand up. That thought makes me that much wetter.
He feels bigger without the condom, the slick friction of
his cock inside so new and di erent from what I’ve felt with
him before. I’m already shaking. My body is primed for him.
It remembers last night and the pleasure he can give.
 Peter grabs my wrists in one of his hands and pins them
above my head while he fucks me. He’s fast and brutal and
doesn’t slow down, not for a second. I can’t move. It
wouldn’t be possible even if I wanted to. He’s bound me with
his pleasure and his cock and my mind releases, opening to
this surrender.
It pushes me over the edge, and I can’t help the cry that
comes from me, only to be silenced by Peter’s free hand. I’m
glad the sound is mu ed, because I can’t stop.
Pleasure is a storm and I’m caught in it, being twirled in
the winds until I’m wrung out. But Peter isn’t finished,
thrusting deep, each movement sending o bright
aftershocks behind my eyes, and I moan into his hand.
He’s close. I can tell. His breathing is ragged, and the
hand pinning my wrists slips a little. All at once he pulls
back, out of me but staying close, hand falling to his cock as
he comes, stroking himself through it, cum falling onto my
panties and thighs.
And then he’s done, both of us breathing like we’ve run a
marathon. He grins, a smirk that shakes me to my core
because it’s so sexy and I know that he’s thought of
something that will make me just want to fuck him again.
He reaches down and pulls my panties up, followed by the
jeans. He hooks them and zips them and does the belt, a
notch or two tighter than I would have. Tucking himself back
into his pants, he presses me into the wall, lips at my ear.
“Don’t you dare change those panties.”
My heart rate speeds up. “What would you do if I did?”
He shrugs. “Nothing. But I like the idea of you sitting all
day in my mess. So that every time you feel it, you know
exactly how hard I’m going to fuck you tonight.”
There’s no moisture in my mouth anymore. It’s all gone
to my pussy, and I’ve turned a bright red. I know that I have.
It should make me uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. It makes
me hot.
I reach over and pull a long-sleeve shirt o one of the
racks and pull it over my head. Letting a smirk come to my
face, I look him dead in the eye. “You better make good on
that promise.”
And then I walk away.
Just in time too. As soon as I exit the wardrobe closet, I
hear the first of the production sta come in. There’s a sense
of relief and also an adrenaline rush from the possibility that
we could have been caught. I can see how that feeling could
be addicting, and I should be careful of that. But right now, I
have work to do.
And work I do, even though every time I look at Peter I’m
fighting a blush because I think about this morning and the
fact that he marked me. I’m wearing him on me, and he’s
wearing me on his cock, and no one knows but the two of us.
He gives me looks that send heat searing straight between
my legs and I’m amazed that no one notices. It’s after lunch
when I hear a commotion behind me, and turn to find that
Clay Markham is on the set. He smiles and waves as he
comes over to me.
“Hi,” I say, standing awkwardly to give him a hug.
He pats my back and then lets me go. Clay is old enough
to be my father, and even though he’s an ass most of the
time to most people, he’s always had a soft spot for me. It’s
probably why I have this job at all. “I thought I’d stop by and
see how it’s going. I’ve heard really good things.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow.
He laughs, because I always call him on his bullshit.
“Fine. I wanted to see how badly you’re fucking up my
show,” he says good-naturedly. “But I actually have had
some good stories coming o the set. I can’t wait to see what
you’ve done with it.”
 “Thanks,” I say. “I think we’ve done some good stu .”
“I’m sure you have. And you’ve proven that you’re a
serious director. A serious female director. Not everyone does
that.”
I shake my head. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing, dear. Nothing.” He waves a hand. “Just
Hollywood drama. Nothing more.”
“Oh.” I nod. “We’ve been kind of isolated from that here.
Not paying attention to the gossip and just trying to create
the best show that we can.”
“Excellent,” he says. “Well I didn’t have much time
today, but I still wanted to say hello. Can I stop by again
sometime?”
“You’re always welcome,” I say. “You’re the reason I’m
here.”
Clay winks at me and taps me on the nose. “You did
plenty of the work to deserve it. See you later!”
He sweeps out of the room leaving half the crew staring
after him, and I can’t stop the smile that comes while I shake
my head. Clay Markham is one of those classic Hollywood
characters that everyone imagines, but doesn’t think can
possibly be real. But he’s real all right.
I have no idea what he was talking about with drama, but
I know someone who will. “Gloria!” I call, and she
materializes by my side like a genie from a lamp.
“Yeah?”
I jump. “Geeze. You’re stealthy.”
“And proud of it. What’s up?”
“I have a gossip question.”
She holds out her hands like she’s bracing herself. “My
entire life has been leading to this moment. What can I tell
you?”
“Mr. Markham just made a comment that I don’t get. He
said that I was proving myself a serious female director and
that not everybody does that. He said it was just drama. You
know anything about that?”
Her face lights up like a fucking light bulb. This girl loves
gossip way too much. “I know everything about that,” she
says. “June Cavallaro, over on Calamity Mountain.”
“Yeah?”
Gloria clears her throat, then whispers conspiratorially,
even though if she knows this probably the whole city does.
“Yesterday there were a whole bunch of pictures released of
her and one of the actors on the show. Not just any of the
actors, one of the young ones. He’s eighteen, and she’s going
down on him like his cock is made of candy.”
A cold chill runs through me. A director and an actor. “And
people are pissed because he’s young?” I ask, praying that
that’s the reason that they’re upset.
“It’s that, but it’s also like, one of her first gigs and she’s
fucking the talent. It’s not really a good look, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“I’ll be back, I need to check with the script coordinator
about Alex’s dog tags.”
And then she disappears and I’m left practically panting.
Oh shit. Oh shit. This isn’t good. What if that were Peter and
me? It easily could have been. We weren’t particularly
careful. What the hell was I thinking? Letting him fuck me in
the wardrobe closet?
This isn’t a good idea. We both need this project to
succeed. Maybe an informal partnership is what we should
stick to. It feels like a knife in the gut to even consider going
backwards now, but what happens if we get caught and both
our careers go up in flames?
Peter looks at me across the room, and I feel the familiar
flash of heat, but this time it’s coupled with an
overwhelming feeling of dread.
23
 PETER
PRESENT

Amber disappeared after we finished shooting for the day,

and I got a text to meet her at her place. That’s fine with me.
For a second I was worried that she might be having second
thoughts, but then I remembered the wardrobe closet this
morning. There wasn’t any hesitation there.
I got the updated script for the next episode, and I
glanced at it while walking to my car. The changes that were
made look really good, and they add depth to both my
character and Genova’s. I haven’t been quite as excited to
shoot something since the nightmare scene. The upcoming
scenes are going to be amazing, and I fully plan on picking
Amber’s brain after I’ve fucked her breathless.
Stopping briefly, I pick up some lilies. Amber has never
been a roses kind of girl. But she loves lilies, and there’s
nothing I wouldn’t do to see her smile.
I hear her footsteps come to the door after I knock, and
she opens it, eyes wide with surprise when she sees the lilies.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I close the door behind me and pull her in for a kiss. She
doesn’t resist, but she’s not present. She doesn’t kiss me
back, she just lets it happen.
 She puts the flowers in a vase and I watch, trying to figure
out what’s bothering her. I can’t think of anything that
happened on set today that would have upset her. All the
scenes went really well, and everything with us was fine
when we left it.
Maybe I can get her to tell me. “I got the new script. Like
what they’ve changed. I think filming that will probably be
the most fun we’ve had so far.”
“Really?” Her tone is absent.
“Yeah.”
“That’s good.”
I clear my throat. “What’s up, Amber?”
She turns like I’ve startled her and her name has finally
drawn her attention. “Huh?”
“You’re trapped in your head and barely listening. What’s
going on?”
“Nothing.”
I roll my eyes and cross the room, pulling her back
against my chest and tucking my chin into her shoulder
while she arranges the flowers. “You’ve always been a shit
liar,” I say, pressing a kiss onto her neck. “Tell me what’s
wrong.”
She sighs, and shrugs me o . Okay, so this is really
bothering her more than she’s letting on. I wait to let her
talk. I know there’s no rushing Amber. “You know who Jane
Cavallaro is?”
I nod. “I’ve heard the name. Director. She’s been around
for a few years.”
Amber walks into the living room and I follow her. She
picks up her laptop and hands it to me. It’s open to a bunch
of news stories. Well, they’re all the same news story, just
di erent sources, and I would hardly call this news. It’s
tabloid crap.
 There are images of a couple together, and even though
most of the images are blocked and blurred, it’s very clear
that she’s giving him a blowjob. I skim the article headlines
and gather enough to understand why Amber asked if I know
who she is. “She’s a director in the tabloids.”
“No, Peter. She’s a director who’s fucking an actor on her
show.”
Suddenly it all becomes clear, but it’s a little too late
because Amber is still talking. She’s not angry, she’s scared.
I can tell by the panic on her face.
“This can’t happen to me. I can’t let it. And it will because
we’re already not being careful. I’ve worked so hard to get
here and everything we’ve both worked for is so, so close. I
can’t lose it, not when it’s all right here waiting for me to
take it.” There are tears in her eyes while she’s looking at
me, and I’m trying to understand what she means.
And then it hits me like a ton of cinderblocks falling on
my head. She means me. She means that she can’t let me
ruin anything for her. “Amber,” I say, “do you really think
I’d do anything to jeopardize your career? That I’d ever take
that chance? Believe me, I’ve already learned that lesson and
paid the price for it.”
Amber is quiet for a minute. She takes the laptop from
me, closes it, and sits down on the couch. “I don’t think you
would, no. Not on purpose.”
What’s left in the air is what she’s really getting at. That I
didn’t actually mean to ruin things for the first time, but I
still did. So even if I’m not trying to harm her, my very
presence could rip everything away from her a second time. I
see that this is tearing her apart, and she can’t stop thinking
about it.
It’s like a knife straight to the chest. “You can’t mean
that.”
 “I don’t know,” she says. “I’m afraid, Peter. I don’t have
anything else.”
“You have me.”
She shakes her head. “Do I? We didn’t see each other for
ten years, we sleep together for one night and that’s it?
That’s forever? You know it’s not that simple and it never
has been.”
The pain floods my system and I can’t handle it. The only
way for me to deal is the anger that follows. It’s the only
thing that keeps me from breaking. “After everything we’ve
been through and finding each other again, can you imagine
a life without me in it? If you can, Amber, tell me now.
Because I can’t picture it. I’ve never been able to imagine a
life without you in it, even when I was trying. So tell me now if
you want me gone, because I can’t do this all over again. It
hurts too damn much.”
She looks at me, tears brimming in her eyes, and says
nothing. And nothing. And nothing. Finally, she looks down
and away, tears spilling over into a sob. So that’s that.
I barely recognize the dark laugh that comes from deep in
my chest. “I should have known that it was too good to be
true,” I say. “I thought that if I just made you see that I
wasn’t the person you thought I was, that it would work.
That you would see that we’re made for each other and that
would be the end of it. I guess I can’t fix everything by
myself.”
She still doesn’t say anything, face buried in her hands.
The instinct deep in my gut is to go to her. To fix it. To make
it better so that she doesn’t cry. But I can’t do that. Not if she
thinks all I’m going to do is turn around and tear her world
apart.
I swallow against the emotion and anger building in my
chest. “I’ll do us both a favor,” I say quietly. “I’ll stop
getting in your way. Take care of yourself, Amber, and I hope
that you get everything that you want.”
I turn and go, forcing myself not to look back. If I look
back, I don’t know that I’ll be able to make myself go, and I
have to. I have to make this a clean break or the wound will
never heal. It’s already been open a decade too long.
I want to rage, break things, scream and throw a punch.
But that leaves in an instant and I’m left with nothing but
sadness. I shut the door to Amber’s apartment quietly behind
me, pretending that I can’t hear her cry.
24
 AMBER
PRESENT

He’s gone. I listen to the sound of the door closing and his
footsteps walking away. He’ll come back. He always comes
back. He came back after ten year. He won’t stop now, right?
Terror and panic seize at my chest.
I’m a goddamn fucking idiot.
Peter came back after ten years, and even though I
destroyed him, he still said that he loved me and wanted to
be with me. Even though I hated him for years, he didn’t
care. He unequivocally said he wanted me and didn’t care
about what I’d done. And he thought I’d forgiven him.
I have forgiven him.
And the minute something came up that’s scary, I lost my
shit and tried to end things. I made it seem like I couldn’t
trust him. Like he was going to ruin everything because he’s
not smart enough to know when things are going to a ect
someone else. That he would make the same mistakes as a
scared eighteen-year-old in love.
I would have walked out too. I probably would have done
it faster and with a lot more yelling. I wouldn’t have blamed
him in the least if he’d slammed my door so hard that it
cracked the walls.
 Looking over at the kitchen, I see the flowers that he gave
me. Lilies. He remembered that I love lilies more than any
other flower. Not only that, but got my favorite variety: A
delicate pink that’s always reminded me of everything that’s
perfect in the world.
It’s only been a couple of minutes; he’s probably still
there. If I can stop him, maybe I can take it all back. Maybe I
can tell him that I panicked and I love him and I’m sorry.
Maybe it’s too late. But I won’t know unless I try.
I spring o the couch and toward the door. It feels like I
can’t move fast enough. There’s a part of me that expects
him to be behind the door, that he’ll somehow know that I
wasn’t in my right mind and didn’t mean it. But he’s not
there.
I don’t see him anywhere in the hallway either.
Shit. I start to run because I have to see him. I have to
stop him, tell him that I love him. I just got him back and I
didn’t tell him that I love him.
I love him.
I reach the stairwell, and he’s not there. I don’t hear
footsteps either. I start going down, hoping that I can catch
him at the garage, but I freeze in my tracks.
On the landing of the stairs is a bundle of paper. And
anyone in this city would be able to recognize it as a script.
But very few people would be able to recognize it as a script
for Undercover. The new script that he tried to talk to me
about. That he was excited about.
It’s tossed on the ground like garbage, and I suddenly
can’t breathe. No. This can’t be happening.
I pick up the script, and even though I don’t want to
believe it, it’s true. This is Peter’s script. His name is right
there. Peter Holleman. And he threw it away. Just like I threw
him away. Like I threw us away.
 I slide down the wall of the landing, because I can’t stand
up anymore.
And I cry.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Keep turning pages to read the sequel, FOR US.

Copyright © 2019 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no
part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any
form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is
completely coincidental.

Sign up HERE!
 1

AMBER
PAST

I watch the trees flying by outside the car, the fingers of my

left hand pressed against the skin of my left wrist. My
heartbeat is there. Steady, constant, alive. I push against the
sudden wave of anger that's in my chest. The only thing
that's good about it is that it speeds up my heart rate, but
otherwise, this anger is exhausting. I feel like I've been
angry for as long as I can remember, and it's just not fair.
I'm not angry at being alive. Of course I'm not. But
everything about this sucks. It fucking sucks. The last year of
surgery and recovery feels like a waste of time. Not just a
waste, but stolen time. I had so many plans, I was so close to
realizing those plans and enjoying my success, and instead,
it’s been drug cocktails and car rides to and from doctors’
o ces. And every step of this reminds me of Peter. Peter
who stabbed me in the back and saved my life. And even
though he saved my life, I still hate him. Because I have
nothing now. I'm going to all these interviews without a
portfolio. No show. No proof of my talent except the plans I
had.
Anyone can plan something. It only matters if you follow
through.
"You okay, honey?" my mom asks.
 I don't take my eyes o the road. "I'm fine."
She sighs, but I pretend not to notice. I guess I've been
saying that a lot lately. We both know I'm not. And even
though it's their fault that I have to stay on the east coast
I'm not mad at them. They're just trying to take care of me
and keep me alive. So it makes sense that they want me to be
within driving distance of home.
It's not lost on me that I'm lucky enough to be within
driving distance of New York City, but my heart is in Los
Angeles. That's where people in film go for their start, and
I'm not there. I'm here. In a car. With my mom. On my way
to the city for an interview at NYU.
This is so stupid. Any other person going to interview at
NYU would be fucking ecstatic. This is a dream for so many
people, but I'm pissed because I'm interviewing in the wrong
city.
We crest a hill, and I can see the city skyline. That’s
something that New York has going for it, the skyline will
always be more beautiful than Los Angeles’s. Too bad
skylines don’t mean shit when it comes to film school. I
wonder what Peter would say to that.
I shut down that thought as soon as it appears. Peter isn’t
here. He’s not going to be here, even though we talked about
going to the same city, working it out. We both destroyed
that option. Dammit Peter. Why did you have to do this? If
you had just waited a single day, we could have figured this
out together. He could have been by my side during all the
surgeries, and my parents wouldn’t be keeping me on the
east coast because I wouldn’t be alone. Peter would be with
me.
He tried to talk to me after, but I wasn’t ready. I was too
mad. I’m still mad, but now I wish I had talked to him. I’m
too young to have these regrets, but life doesn’t always play
out exactly the way we hope, does it?
 I flip my mind over to the interview. There are things that
I need to highlight about my experiences in school,
especially since I’ve been out for a year. I can’t forget
anything, so I’ve been reviewing whenever I can.
My roles in every position of theater and film. I’ve done it
all. So even though I want to direct, I have experience in all
the other aspects, which is beneficial for directing. I took on
a lot of responsibility, both within the drama club and other
school activities. Most importantly, I’m still passionate
about what I want to do, and my health will not be an
obstacle or hold me back from being competitive in the
program.
This interview has to go well. Even though I’m pissed
about not being in Los Angeles, if I had to choose a school on
this coast, it would be N.Y.U. It’s one of the schools that
people pay attention to when you say that you studied there.
If I have to change my dream, this is an acceptable
alternative. I’ll go to the other interviews, but this is the one
I want.
I wrap my head around that idea and visualize the
interview. Visualize being accepted and moving to the city.
Visualize my goals materializing down this path. It helps. A
little.
My phone buzzes in my lap, and for a brief second my
heart rate picks up, and my gut tells me it’s Peter. That he
found out about my interview and he’s texting to
congratulate me. But no, it’s my friend Laura, wishing me
luck. I push aside the disappointment to examine later. Peter
already cost me so much, I’m not going to let thoughts of
him torpedo this too.
No, I can’t think about him right now. Not ever.
Our car slows down as we hit some tra c on the way into
the city. Glancing at the clock, I’ve still got two hours until
the interview. Plenty of time.
 “You ready?” my mom asks.
I shrug. “I think so? I’ve gone over everything I have to
say so many times in my head that if I forget it now it’s my
own fault.”
“You’re going to be great,” she says with perfect
confidence.
“I hope so.”
My mom clears her throat. “I know that this isn’t really
what you wanted, and I’m sorry—”
“I know, Mom. I’m not mad at you. I get why this is the
best option.”
I hate the pity and sympathy in her voice. “But that
doesn’t make it easier.”
“No,” I say. “It doesn’t.”
We ride in silence for a few minutes. “Is there anything
you want to do in the city while we’re here?”
I look over at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” she says with a small smile, “your dad and I knew
that you were kind of bummed out, so we agreed that we
could make a trip out of it.”
“You mean we get to stay after the interview?”
She nods. “All weekend. I thought that we could maybe
see a show, do some sightseeing.”
It feels like a cloud lifts o my shoulders. “That’s going
to be really awesome, Mom. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She’s smiling. “Do you know what
show you want to see?”
“No idea,” I shake my head. “I’ll have to look and see.”
I pick up my phone but mom reaches out her hand.
“There’s time for that later. I don’t want you to be distracted
before your interview. We can check out the shows tonight in
the hotel room.”
“That’s fair,” I say.
“Who knows, maybe we’ll be able to see two.”
 I take a deep breath, and it feels easier than the ones I’ve
been taking lately. Maybe walking around the city this
weekend I’ll see if I can actually fit in here. I never pictured
myself as a New York City girl, but I don’t really have a lot of
choice, so I need to get used to it. I just need to find places in
the city that I love, so that I can make it a home.
That way I can pretend that I didn’t leave my heart in Los
Angeles.
The city gets bigger in front of us, and finally we’re so
close that the buildings are sparkling, and we drive down
into the tunnel under the East River to cross into Manhattan.
For the first time on this whole trip, I feel a sliver of
excitement run through me. I’m here. I can do this. We come
out of the tunnel and everything looks impossibly large and
full of possibility. So many people everywhere, each trying to
make it in a city that doesn’t make it easy.
I’m going to be one of those people—I decide right now.
Closing my eyes, I visualize again. I’m going to be
accepted, and I’m going to thrive. Circumstances suck, and
I’m going to make sure that they don’t suck my future away.
One more time, I go over exactly what I need to say in the
interview. By the time I finished, I open my eyes, and we’re
already there.
 2

AMBER
PRESENT

It’s been two days, just a weekend, and yet it feels like these
two days have taken years to pass. I can’t believe that I did
this. Panic. That’s what happened. I was panicking about
everything and I let him walk away. I made him feel like
garbage and I can’t believe that I let myself lose it like that.
I pick up the script that he threw away for the hundredth
time and run my hands over it. The cover of it is creased now
from the amount of time I’ve spent worrying it.
The amount of times that I’ve called Peter’s phone makes
me look like a bona fide crazy person, but I can’t help it. He
hasn’t answered at all. We’re supposed to shoot tomorrow,
and even if I can’t fix what I broke between us, I need to
know that he’ll be there. I need to know that I didn’t destroy
my career.
It would be ironic, though. In my panic over my career
being ruined by being discovered with Peter, I may have
destroyed it by making him quit. Fuck. This is such a mess.
I’ve barely slept, and I don’t dare look at myself in the
mirror, afraid of what I look like.
It crosses my mind that this probably isn’t good for my
heart, but the pacemaker is just as steady as it always is. It
can survive. I will survive. I have to believe that, even if this
ends up with the worst outcome. I lost him once. I could
probably do it again.
Maybe.
I call him again and listen to the now very familiar ring.
And the very familiar voicemail. I don’t bother listening all
the way through to leave a message. I’ve already left him too
many and he hasn’t called me back. I don’t think leaving
another message is going to make a di erence. Either he’s
going to pick up one of these times, or he isn’t.
Shit. I have so much to do and I can’t focus. I need to get a
jump on tomorrow’s scenes, work through my process. But I
also can’t imagine sitting down to do that when I don’t even
know if Peter is going to walk onto set tomorrow.
I have to sit down.
My legs practically collapse underneath me and I put my
head between my knees. It helps a little. Whatever methods I
had of calming my anxiety before Peter came back into my
life seem to be gone completely. I can’t remember them and
I can’t get a grip.
I try a pep talk: Okay, Amber, you can do this. You need to
take a shower. You need to sit down at your table and do your
work, not matter what happens tomorrow. You’re a professional
and you need to do your job. You’ve worked hard for this, and
even if this is your fault, you can’t control everything. Peter is
going to show up tomorrow, or he isn’t. You can’t change it.
I head into my bedroom and pull of the clothes I’ve been
wearing since he left. I never thought I was the kind of
woman that would fall apart this much after sleeping with a
guy.
But even I can’t ignore the whispers in my head telling
me it’s not just sex. This isn’t a one-night-stand that I
found in some bar. This is Peter. Possibly the love of my life,
and the resolution to a story that’s been writing itself for ten
years. If that’s not worth falling apart over, then I’m not
sure what is.
The hot water feels good. Clarifying.
Bless the first person to come up with a hot shower. For
the minutes that you’re in there it seems like nothing is
wrong in the world. It’s a steamy, muscle relaxing perfect
little bubble.
My problems are still there when I step out, but at least it
feels easier to face them when I’m clean. I pull on fresh
clothes and retrieve my phone from the kitchen. No missed
calls, and I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest as I
dial his number again. No answer.
I dial another number, even though I wish I didn’t have
to. He answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Michael? This is Amber Dwyer.”
“What can I do for you, Amber?” he says, getting right to
the point.
I swallow. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been
trying to get a hold of Peter for a couple days, and he hasn’t
answered my calls. I wanted to make sure everything’s okay
for shooting tomorrow. If something’s wrong and I need to
change the shooting schedule, I need to know.”
There's silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?"
Michael clears his throat. "What do you mean you haven't
heard from him?"
"I mean that I've been calling him all weekend so I can
talk to him about some of the stu from the edited script."
That's not really true, but I don't think Michael needs to
know that. "I left him a couple of voicemails too, he hasn't
returned anything. Figured I could check in with you just to
make sure that everything is okay, you know?"
"Of course," he says, his voice snapping back into his
normal agent mode. "I apologize for any inconvenience this
has coursed you, and I hope this doesn't damage the
partnership that we were hoping to form with you."
"No," I say. "I'm still game if Peter is, but I need to know
if he's okay or if I need to rearrange the shoot for
tomorrow."
I'm not sure if I imagine the edge of panic in Michael's
voice or if I'm just projecting my own panic. "I'm going to
call him right away and find out what's up. I'll get back to
you, okay? Peter is a pro, and easily one of the best actors
that I've worked with. I'm sure he wouldn't miss your calls
without a good reason. I'll call you back!"
The line goes dead so suddenly that I almost jump. Yeah,
Peter wouldn't miss my calls without a good reason. He
wouldn't quit the show without a good reason. But I can't
help but think that I gave him a pretty damn good reason. I
would walk away too if someone I thought had forgiven me
accused me of something like that.
I have to do this work, but my nerves are still frayed. So I
pour myself a shot. Just one, and knock it back with a
grimace. Just enough to take the edge o of everything that
I'm feeling. Like a reflex, I call Peter again, and get his voice
mail. Shit. What if something really is wrong? What if I made
him so angry that he did something stupid? That he got
drunk and got in an accident? What if the reason he's not
answering my calls is because he can't?
Stop it, Amber. Stop. That's not right. Because if Peter
were hurt or in the hospital, it would have hit the news and I
would have gotten a call. The one good thing about being a
celebrity is you never have to worry about maintaining any
privacy. Though I'm not exactly sure if that's a comforting
thought.
I grab Peter's script and sit down at my desk. If I'm going
to be thinking about him anyway, I might as well use his
script to prep. Placing my phone where I can see it, I try to
dive into my work. It doesn't flow the way it normally does,
but I get through it little by little. Each little step I
accomplish is punctuated by glancing at the phone, waiting
for it to light up and tell me that everything's fine. Hoping
that Peter will call and say he understands that it was just a
misunderstanding and that we can forget about everything
that happened.
But of course that doesn't happen, so I work through
another page in the script, making notes as I go along. Of
course we're supposed to be shooting one of the sexier
scenes tomorrow—at least his side of the shots, so I'm
reminded of our night together and our morning together
and how he makes me feel.
Fuck.
It would have been easier if I had never seen him again.
Way, way, easier. But now that he's back in my life, I can't
imagine a life without him. For better or worse, our lives are
tangled together, and I think that it's too late to take it back.
We’ve been waiting for each other for too damn long for this
to be the end of us.
I have to fix it. I can fix it, if he’ll just talk to me.
But the phone never rings.
 3

PETER
PAST

I glance at the clock on the wall and let out a sigh. Ten
minutes until my break is over, and then another three hours
until my shift is finished. I'm exhausted, and all I want to do
is crawl into my bed and sleep.
I never thought working at a restaurant could be so tiring,
but it is. I go home every night so wasted that I can barely
change my clothes before just collapsing on my bed. But
that's what I need to do. I need the work. I'm going to make
as much money as I can before I move out to Los Angeles.
Amber and I always talked about it, until everything
happened. I don't know where she is or what she's doing, but
I can still try to make our plan work. It's still what I want.
I have no idea where I'm going to live or what I'm going
to do, but I want it. The acting bug bit, and now I need to
know if I'm good enough. I'm probably not, but I can feel
deep in my gut that I'll always regret it if I don't at least try.
There have been a couple of acting gigs I've done since
graduating, local community theatre and a couple of small
independent films, but not as much as I should be doing. Not
if I want to succeed.
Fiddling with my phone, I blow out a sigh. How is it
possible that time seems to move so slowly when I'm here at
work? And then when I'm home, it flies. Everyone warns you
about it, but being an adult kind of sucks. At least this part of
it.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance down. It's not a
number I recognize. I don't pick it up. They can leave a
message. I let it ring out, the phone vibrating on the break
room table. I could fall asleep back here. They'd probably
notice when I didn't come back from my break, though.
Not even two minutes later my phone rings again, same
number. Probably somebody who's got the wrong one. They
should have figured it out from my voicemail, but whatever.
People can be dumb.
Two minutes left of my break, and my phone buzzes
again. Just one vibration this time, and I glance at the screen.
That number left a voicemail. I have no idea who it is, but I
slide my finger across the screen and hold it up to my ear.
"Hi, Peter, it's me."
I nearly drop the phone, because I haven't heard that
voice in years. Wasn't sure that I'd ever hear that voice
again. It's my mom.
"I know it's been a long time, but call me when you get
this. I'd love to talk to you." The line goes dead, and I feel
like I'm drowning.
There's no time left on my break and I have to go back out
onto the floor. But how do I go back and take orders and talk
to people when I'm freaking the fuck out. What? What is
this?
I moved out of my aunt's house after graduation because
it was better for us. Our relationship is ten times better than
it was when I lived there, and we've become much closer.
Now she can just be my aunt and not have to act like my
mother. But she needs to know about my actual mother,
because I don't know what this means. I shoot her a quick
text as I grab my order notebook and head back out to the
front of the restaurant to take some tables.
My mom called me. She's still alive. She sounded clean.
She was clean enough to find my number and track me
down. What does she want? This is a good thing, right? My
mind can't stop racing. Even when I'm smiling at people and
rattling o the specials, making sure they have enough
water and french fries, I'm not focusing because Mom called.
She called.
The practical part of me is a little wary, but the kid who
got dumped and shipped o to live with relatives is excited.
All I've ever wanted is for her to be okay, and for us to be a
family again. Maybe that can finally happen? I don't know.
But I'm watching the clock move like the slowest thing in
history as it counts down the time left on my shift. I'm going
to call her as soon as I get home. I've already decided that. I
can't not.
Even though there's a text from my aunt saying that this
is probably a bad idea. I never had closure, and I need it. If I
don't do this, I'm going to hate myself because I'm going to
wonder what would have happened if I just called her. When
my shift ends, I get out of the restaurant as fast as humanly
possible and drive home way too fast. I'm lucky that I don't
get pulled over.
I don't even take o my coat before I'm dialing the
number. And it's ringing. It's ringing... and nothing. No
answer. No voicemail. Just dead silence.
Shit.
I knew that this was too good to be true. I got my hopes
up just like I used to when we lived in Virginia. I push away
the sudden feeling of crushing loneliness that begins to seep
in, and toss my phone onto the couch and take o my coat,.
There's a small sound, and I turn to see my phone lit up,
vibrating. I hate the way hope races up through my body, but
I grab the phone and it's the same number.
"Hello?"
"Peter?"
My eyes get watery. "Hi, Mom."
"Sweetie!" She sounds so happy. "It's so good to hear
your voice."
"You too." I can't keep the emotion out of my voice, so I
don't say anything else.
She sighs. "I know things weren't great when everything
happened, but it's better now. I'd really like to come see you,
if that's okay?"
"I'd love to see you," I say, and it's true. It's one of the
only things I've thought about since I moved up here, and
even more since Amber left.
"When are you free?" she asks. "I'm in between jobs right
now and it's the perfect time. I really want to make this work
for you."
I do quick mental math before answering. "Next week? I'll
still have to work, but I can take a couple days o . Maybe you
can see Aunt Lily too."
"That would be nice," she says, though it's not as
enthusiastic as the rest.
I honestly don't know what to say right now. There's a
ton of stu that I know I need to say, but I'm not sure that
I'm ready, or that I should say any of it over the phone.
"How are you going to come up here? Are you still in
Virginia?"
"Yeah," she says. "I thought I'd take the train. The train
seems nice."
"Okay. You'll let me know when you're going to get in and
stu ?"
I feel like I can hear her smile through the phone. "I
absolutely will, sweetie. I'll text you when I have my ticket.
Talk to you soon?"
"Yeah."
"Bye!" she chirps happily before hanging up.
I slump back on the couch, my mind spinning just as
much, if not more. This is a lot. Going from having no idea if
your mother is alive to making plans to see her in less than
four hours is more of a ride than any rollercoaster out there.
I'm going to see my mom. My mom. Joy bubbles up in my
chest, and I want to call Amber and tell her about it.
I barely catch myself before a slice of new pain rips
through my chest. It's been a year. More than that, and
nothing has changed. Every bit of news or development in
my life, I want to share with her. I wanted—want—to share
everything with her. She knew how much I wanted to see my
mom again, and I like to think that she'd be happy for me. I
like to think that her eyes would light up like they would
whenever she was excited, and that she'd throw her arms
around me and kiss me until both of our excitement turned
into something else.
But that's gone. She's gone. I have to accept that.
Even if it still hurts as much as the day she walked away
from me.
But now at least one of the people I've lost has come back.
I want to believe that I won't be the one who's always
abandoned. That there isn't something about me that drives
people away. Mom coming back, I can make it work this
time. We can be a family. We can be happy. Maybe she'll
come to L.A. with me. Maybe it will be so perfect that I won't
go to L.A. There are a million possibilities and there's relief
and hope in all of them.
Peace spreads in my chest, and I haven't felt that in a
long time, and the adrenaline falls out of me. I'm tired when
I get home from a shift, but after the rush, it feels like I can't
keep my eyes open. I kick o my shoes and blearily set an
alarm on my phone for the morning. I don't even have the
energy to move right now. Instead I stretch out on the couch,
and close my eyes. I'll move to my bed at some point, I just
need five minutes...
I wake with a start, and my phone is glowing. It's
completely dark in my living room and the phone tells me
that it's five A.M. There's a text from that number, with a
message.

Just bought my ticket for Tuesday! I'll arrive at 11:00 A.M. See you
then!

I scrub my hand over my face and heave myself o the

couch. Tuesday. It's Friday morning. I'm going to see my
mom in four days. Four days seems like the longest and
shortest time in the world. I collapse into bed and manage to
plug in my phone before falling asleep with those words
repeating in my head. Four days. Four days. Four days.
Four days...
 4

PETER
PRESENT

This spot is equally beautiful during the day. I didn't want to

be in my house, and I didn't want to be in public. I can't go
back to Amber's apartment, and this was the first place I
thought of: that beautiful overlook on Mulholland Drive that
she brought me to. Probably not the best idea to come here
given the fact that I'm trying not to obsess. But why am I
kidding myself? I'm not going to be able to stop thinking
about her anyway.
I was just so angry that I let myself lose control, but I feel
like an idiot. I shouldn't have walked away from her like that.
I can't exactly accuse Amber of giving up on us when she
probably thinks that I did the exact same thing. But she did
give up on us. She thought that I would bail or ruin her life
again, just because I would care more about the dream of us
than the person in front of me. It hurts.
Maybe she was right, maybe there's just too much
baggage and too much history between us for it to ever be
normal again. But I still want that. I still want her. After all
these years of being the person who people abandon, I don't
want to be the one that walks away. I will if that's what she
wants, what she really wants, but I need some time before I
ask her that.
 My phone buzzes in my pocket and I ignore it. Amber has
been calling me almost non-stop since I walked out of her
apartment two days ago, but I just...can't. I need to clear my
head and get through all of this shit, and every time I talk to
her, everything goes out the window.
Our entire history is turning over in my mind, from that
first day when Amber approached me in the snow to our first
kiss and then when she fainted in my arms. Other moments
too. Happy moments, sad moments, our fights and how we
made up. And now, how we've danced around each other and
finally come together just to be torn apart by an unfortunate
headline and our own history.
The whole reason I'm up here is that I don't want to give
up on us, but I don't know what to say when I see her
tomorrow. How am I going to react to her in a way the crew
is going to perceive as normal? If she's that worried about
our careers, then I want to be as professional as possible. But
I'm far past professional at this point. I just need to figure it
out, until she's willing to talk to me again.
My phone buzzes again, and even though I want to talk to
her, I don't pick up. The things we have to say to each other
aren't things that can be said over the phone. But given how
persistent she's been in calling, maybe she does want to talk.
Or maybe not.
Fuck.
It's been a long time since I've felt this kind of confusion
and tension in my body. I lay back on the hood of my car,
shielding my eyes against the sun. When my phone buzzes in
my pocket again, I pull it out to look at the screen. It's not
Amber, it's Michael, and there's a couple of voicemails from
him too. I slide my finger across the screen too answer.
"Hello?"
"Nice of you to pick up your phone," Michael says in a
tone of voice I've come to know as him being pissed and
trying to hide it.
"I answered this time."
There's a barely concealed sigh. "But not the other five."
"Is there a reason you're calling me six times on a non-
shooting day? Did I forget to be somewhere?"
"No, I just needed to make sure you were alive and that
you hadn't done something monumentally stupid."
I sit up. "What are you talking about? We have two days
o . You don't trust me to not get in trouble for two days."
"Under normal circumstances, yes, I—"
"Why aren't circumstances normal, Michael?" With
everything else going on, I really don't want any more
surprises. I'm trying to fight o the feeling of dread in my
gut.
"Dwyer said that she's been trying to get a hold of you for
two days to go over things for the new script and she hasn't
heard from you. Made her a little nervous, so she called me
to make sure that you were going to show up to shooting
tomorrow. I swear, Peter, if you did something—"
"She thinks I'm not coming in?" The dread pools in my
stomach and stays, cold like a rock. "Of course I'm coming
in. I've just been o the grid. I needed some time without
everyone in my head, you know?"
There's a short silence. "That's it?"
I hu a laugh, "Yeah. I've been kind of avoiding my
phone. Just letting my thoughts be the only ones for a
while."
"Okay." There's a sigh, but this one is a sigh of relief. I'm
used to Michael overreacting, but it still makes me roll my
eyes. "I'll let her know. And in the future, if you need some
personal time, at least let me know first so I can cover your
ass and not get it from your directors."
"Sure," I lie. Like hell am I going to tell Michael whenever
I need space to mull over a personal problem. Some parts of
my life are still mine. Or they should be. "I'll see you
tomorrow?" There's no way in hell Michael would call me
about this and then not show up to set to verify. His paranoia
works in my favor most of the time, so I don't mind.
"Count on it," he says before the line goes dead.
That really wasn't what I expected. So Amber hasn't been
calling because she wants to talk to me. She's been calling
because she wants to make sure that I'm not going to walk
o set and leave the show hanging. Even with everything
that's between us, I'm stunned that she thinks I would do
that. If that's really what she believes, then she really
doesn't trust me. At all.
I need a new plan. This plan is how to work with her while
forcing myself to keep my distance. Because losing her twice
is enough. If I let myself get close one more time and she's
not ready, my heart won't take it. I know it won't.
So, new plan. Cool and professional and distant, with the
best performance that I can possibly give. I hop down o the
hood and into the driver’s seat. Time to work the hell out of
my script. When I used to do theater, I would make hundreds
of notes about motivation and character.
Over the years I’ve learned to do it a lot of it in my head,
but not now. Not only will it help distract me from the pain
that’s hovering at the edges, but also it will give me
something to focus on during the shoot.
I know I’m going to want to follow Amber with my eyes
and more. I’m the moth, and she’s the flame. It’s going to
take time for me to train myself out of the habit.
That pain flashes out, and for a second, I can’t breathe.
This feels worse than I ever imagined it could. I shut o the
possibility of a life with Amber a long time ago. Having that
hope come back and then—
I’m driving down this road and it feels like I’m cutting my
own heart out. But I can do it for her. I’ll give her what she
wants, because all I’ve ever wanted is for Amber to be happy.
And if this is what it takes, then I can do it, even if it kills
me.
 5

AMBER
PAST

I feel like I've been waiting for hours for them to call my
name, even though it hasn't been. It feels like that because
we got here early and I've watched at least ten other kids get
called in and then come out. All artsy kids like me. I've gone
into the bathroom three times just to make sure that I look
okay and not like a total crazy person. I'm sure mom would
be teasing me if she didn't already know that I was crazy
nervous.
All the fidgeting I would normally do, I can't. I can't pull
my sleeves down over my hands cause that will mess up and
wrinkle my shirt. I can't bite my fingernails because of the
shiny clear manicure I got before coming down. I can't
scream and cry like a toddler because I'm in a room full of
strangers. Okay, so I wouldn't normally scream and cry but
I'm nervous enough that I'm tempted.
After the car ride where all I thought about was how I
didn't want to be in New York, the nervousness took me a
little by surprise. But there's nothing I can do about it now.
I'm here. It's about to happen.
I glance up at the clock on the wall. I swear it's standing
still. Five more minutes and I'll be called in. Holy shit.
They're going to notice how much I'm sweating. They're not
going to let me in because they're afraid I'll just leave sweat
stains on everything. I'll be known to the admissions team as
'that sweaty one.'
Stop it, Amber. You're being ridiculous.
As if my mother can sense it, she reaches over and places
her hand on top of mine. "It's going to go great."
"You don't know that."
"Of course I do," she says, winking. "I know everything."
I laugh in spite of my nervousness, which is exactly what
she's aiming for.
A woman in a sharp suit steps out of one of the o ces.
"Amber Dwyer."
My stomach plummets to my feet and I think that I'm
going to pass out, but I pick up my folder and head toward
her. I hear Mom's whisper behind me. "Knock 'em dead!"
I was expecting something other than a fairly plain o ce
that looks like every other o ce in the history of time.
Maybe part of me expected there to be electrodes that I'd be
hooked up to in order to make sure that I was giving the
right answers. That it would look more like an interrogation
cell than an o ce. But it's just an o ce. Desk, two chairs in
front of it, some degrees and photos hung on the wall.
The most notable part of the room is the view from the
window down onto the New York City street. But we're not
that high up, so I wouldn't label the view as impressive. The
normality of it all calms me a little. I'm not totally together,
but at least I'm not completely freaking out.
The woman closes the door behind me as I take a seat.
"How are you today, Amber?" she asks.
Honesty. Always go with honesty. "Nervous."
She chuckles. "You're going to be fine. If you end up
studying with us, I'm sure you'll find that the interview is
probably the easiest part of this degree."
"I look forward to that."
 She smiles while she opens a plain folder in front of her.
"I see that this is a deferred application from last year. What
happened?"
"It was a medical deferment," I swallow. "I have an
arrhythmia. Bad enough that I had to have pacemaker
surgery, physical therapy, and recovery."
"Wow," her eyes go wide. "They mentioned it was a
medical deferment but not the actual problem. How are you
feeling now?"
"Really good. I'm eager to be at school and doing
something besides just worrying about my heart. But I have
my current medical records with me," I say, opening my own
folder and handing her the papers. "Along with a signed
statement from my medical team that I'm healthy."
She takes the papers and glances over them. "Thank you.
I asked how you're feeling because our program is strenuous.
Any degree in the arts is, but it's long hours and lots of work.
Are you sure you're ready to take that on?"
"Absolutely," I say. "I was ready last year because this is
what I want to do. And even though I'm really grateful that
I'm alive and okay, I'm desperate to get back to doing what I
love."
She smiles. "Okay, so tell me why you want to direct and
more importantly, why you want to study at NYU to get
there."
This, I can do. I take a deep breath and launch into the
rehearsed speech that I've prepared—the one that I kept
reciting in the car. But I'm suddenly making edits on the fly
about how much I want to do this, and they're true. This
version of the speech is more passionate, because now that
I'm here, I can once again taste the creative freedom that
this will bring, and I want that. More than I've ever wanted
anything. Well, almost.
 In an instant my mind flashes to Peter, because being
with him was easily the one thing I wanted most. And then I
shove him out of my head because he doesn't belong here. It
feels like I'm talking for a long time, but I have a lot to say.
More than I realize.
Finishing up, I kind of end awkwardly, but the woman
smiles. "I can tell you're serious about this."
"I am."
She clears her throat and glances over all the papers in
front of her. "Normally our admission team likes to see a
little more hands-on work on an application. But this," she
reaches down and opens a drawer, putting a large manila
envelope on the desk, “really shifted the scales."
I know it's impossible because of the pacemaker, but it
feels like my heart skips a beat. What is that? I've never seen
that package before and I have no idea what's inside it. She
could have my birth certificate in there, or anything, really. I
swallow. "What is that?"
"We received it shortly after your initial application, and
it was stored with it during your deferment. It's from Mr.
Davidson, your drama teacher." Opening the envelope, she
pulls out an envelope and a three ring binder. "He sent us all
the preparations you had made for your senior show, and
explained all the work that went into preparing it. He also
explained that your medical emergency prevented you from
performing, even though you fought them tooth and nail."
She grins at me. "And even though it's unfortunate that
it's not completed, this kind of work ethic and passion are
exactly what we're looking for here at NYU. It has certainly
helped your application, and we were eager to interview you
to see if that passion could be shown in person."
I can't breathe. I thought I was prepared for every
outcome in the interview, but this I didn't see coming.
"Thank you." It's the only words that seem to come out.
 "I'm not the person who makes the o cial decision, and
that will come by mail, but I can tell you that I will be highly
recommending you to our admissions board." She reaches
across the desk, and it takes me a second to realize that she's
reaching out to shake my hand. I take it, and give as firm a
handshake as I can. "Congratulations, you can breathe now."
"Thank you," I say, laughing.
She stands, and moves to open the door. "I hope you
enjoy the city while you're here, and just between you and
me, I hope you get a chance to resurrect your senior piece
here at NYU. It sounds like it would have been amazing."
All I can do is nod. I'm too stunned for anything else, and
I walk out into the waiting room in a daze. She calls the next
name, and I hear the door close behind me. My mom waits
until that happens to come over. She sees the look on my
face and is concerned. "Amber. How did it go? Are you okay?
You're scaring me."
I nod. "It went great."
She puts her hand on my shoulder and guides me toward
the elevator while I briefly recap what happened. She's just
as surprised as I am that Mr. Davidson sent in something. I
never asked him to. How did he even know where I was
applying? This is so weird.
My mom is ecstatic. "This is so exciting! Let's go get
some food, and you can freak out as much as you want while
you're there, then we can figure out what to do with the rest
of the day.”
I shake my head, nod, blink. "Yeah," I say. "Let's do
that."
We're in New York, so mom decides that we need pizza,
and she finds a place that's listed online as the best pizza in
the city, and it's not too far from NYU. My mind is swirling
as we go. I don't understand what just happened. It basically
sounded like that woman said that I was an okay, average
applicant, but that letter and packet showing my work from
last year is what put me over the edge.
I let my mom navigate to the pizza place and pull me
along while I pull out my phone. We parked our car in a lot
for the next couple of days, so we're on foot. I search
through my phone, and sure enough, I still have Mr.
Davidson's phone number. I was checking in with him a lot
during the process of my show, and sometimes it was easier
to text.
"Mom, I think I need to call Mr. Davidson."
She looks over at me. "Okay, why?"
"Because it's going to drive me crazy if I don't know how
he knew or why he did it."
Mom nods. She knows me well, and if I say something is
going to drive me crazy, it absolutely is going to. "Well, wait
until we get to the pizza place, you're not going to be able to
hear anything with all the tra c."
"Good call."
It doesn't take us long to get there, and it's a sit-down
place, which I don't think is normal for pizza places here,
but something I'm sure my mom looked for so we didn't
have to eat on the street with paper plates. She looks at the
menu and orders with the waiter while I dial. Who knows if
this is still his phone number, but I have to know. After a few
rings, he answers.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Davidson?"
"Yes, speaking."
I clear my throat. "Mr. Davidson, this is Amber Dwyer."
"Oh!" There's recognition. "Hi Amber, how are you?"
"I'm good," I say, and I mean it. "I know it's a little
strange for me to be calling, but I had a question."
"Sure," he says.
 "I'm in New York City. I just had my first interview at
NYU, and the admissions o ce had a package from you. I
was just curious how I knew where I was applying, because I
never asked you for a recommendation. Not that I mind, they
really loved it, but I was just curious."
"Oh," he says, clearing his throat. "I thought he would
have told you."
Sudden nerves pop up in my stomach. "What?"
"It was Peter. He felt so awful about everything that
happened with your show that he begged me to send those to
every school you applied to. He gave me a list, and even paid
for all the shipping. I was happy to do it, Amber. You deserve
this. If it made a di erence, then that's amazing."
I thought I was confused and swirling before, but
this...this is something I can barely think about. "I guess that
explains it. And yes, it did make a di erence, so thank you."
"Not a problem! I hope you're doing well. Drop me a line
sometime and tell me what you're up to when you're rich
and famous."
I laugh. "Will do, Mr. Davidson. Thanks."
"Bye, Amber."
Hanging up the phone, I stare at it for a second. Peter did
this. He made him send the packages. Not package.. Packages.
Mr. Davidson said he'd sent one to every school I applied to. I
applied to fifteen schools because I wanted to cover my
bases. I'm sure he's not saying it, but I know deep in my gut
that Peter was the one who got the three ring binders and
made the copies and put everything together. Because he
never does anything half way.
And he never told me, because he didn't think I'd want to
hear, didn't mind that I'd never know if he made the
di erence between acceptance and rejection.
"Amber?" my mom asks. "Did you find out?"
 I nearly choke on my words. "It was Peter. Peter asked
him to do it. He paid for Mr. Davidson to send a package to
every school." The look on my mom's face is one of awe, and
emotion breaks me open. "I need to go to the bathroom," I
say, standing quickly.
She doesn't stop me. I find my way into a stall and just sit
on top of the seat. It takes a few more seconds for it to hit,
but it does. And then I cry, because I don't know what else to
do.
 6

AMBER
PRESENT

I take a deep breath. Then another one. I can’t seem to catch

a full one in my chest, and my heart rate is faster than
normal. I need to calm down but I can’t seem to.
Gloria appears at my side with a glass of water. "Are you
okay?" she asks. "You seem kind of o this morning."
"I'm fine," I lie.
"Okay," she says, even though she sounds like she
doesn't believe me. "I just got a call. Rebecca was in a car
accident and won't make it in today. She's fine, but she
broke her leg. She says she can be back by the end of the
week."
Rebecca is the stand in for Harley, the actress who plays
Genova, our heroine. That's not great news, but we can make
it work. "Harley's not in today, right?"
Gloria shakes her head. "No, she's in New York doing
press for Cold Day in Heaven, the movie she shot last year."
Crap. That means I'll have to find a new stand-in. But we
can rearrange the shooting schedule for the day since
everything is on the same set. "Okay, tell the crew we're
going to move up the Peter's solo scene so they should light
for that, and we'll figure out someone who can do it by the
time we get to the other one."
 "Got it."
She heads o to relay orders, and I go back to trying to
calm my fraying nerves. Peter's agent did call me to say that
he'd be here, but I'm still terrified of seeing him. The way he
walked out of my apartment, he was so angry, and so done. I
can't believe that I ruined this so fast.
But if I can just talk to him, just let him know that I got
caught up in my own head and that I overreacted, maybe
he'll understand. Maybe he'll give me another chance. I drain
the glass of water that Gloria brought me in one go. Shit, I
need to relax. I can't run a set like this.
I barely finish that thought when Peter walks onto set. His
costume today is low-slung jeans and a tight henley that
shows o everything that I love about him. I'm seriously
screwed. But even if we don't talk about us, I need to talk to
him about the change in the schedule.
I hop o my chair, careful of my ankle. I'm down to a
brace, but I still need to be careful. I approach him slowly.
"Peter?"
He turns, and his eyes run up and down me quickly,
without any emotion. "Amber."
I swallow. "Rebecca was in a car accident and Harley is in
New York, so we're going to do your solo scene first so we
can find another stand-in."
"That's fine, thank you."
His manner shouldn't surprise me, but it does. He can't
really be this cold, can he? I push o the overwhelming fear.
"I was also hoping we might be able to talk later."
"I'm sorry," he says, "the scenes today are pretty intense,
and I need to prepare."
He turns back to his script, which I see is covered in
scribbles and notes, the same way they always used to be. He
obviously got another script after he left my apartment. "Of
course," I say. "But it's good to see you."
 He nods, nothing more. I close my eyes and breathe for a
second before I turn and walk back to my chair. This is my
job. My job. I pushed him away to protect it, and he's
listening. The least I can do is perform that job to the best of
my ability. So I walk away and let him prepare.
The lighting for this scene isn't that di erent, so it's not
long before we're ready to start. I have another brief
conversation with Peter, all business, just notes. It's a simple
scene, some close-ups of him doing work, combined with an
emotional moment of him looking at some pictures.
It goes well, and quickly, and before I know it I'm calling
a wrap on it. Peter moves o the set to his chair and I make a
point of not watching him. I won't do it. I won't.
"Well done, darling!" A brash, bold voice comes from
behind me. I twist in my chair to find Clay Markham striding
up. "Watched the scene. Excellent work, just excellent."
"Thank you, Clay," I say, smiling. I had no idea he was
here, and it's comforting, in a way. Clay is always so over the
top that it's endearing and amusing if you know him. "We're
shooting out of order today. One of our stand-ins was in a
car accident, and the actress is in New York. So we're trying
to figure that out."
"I'm sure one of the agencies will send someone over."
"I'm sure," I say. "Gloria?"
"Yeah?" She comes over from the craft services table.
"What's up?"
I take the glass of water she holds out to me. Gloria
constantly keeps me hydrated. It's one of the things I like
about her. "Where are we on a stand-in?"
"No luck so far," she says, rolling her eyes. "Seems like a
lot of redheads are booked today."
"It's Los Angeles. You can't walk thirty feet without
tripping over an actress, and we can't find one?"
 Clay clears his throat. "That's probably my fault. Since
you got inserted into my contract, the studio is probably
keeping to the same restrictions I required. There's only a
few agencies that I like to work with."
Gloria makes a finger gun gesture. "That's exactly it. The
agencies we're allowed to pull from don't have anyone
available."
"Well, shit," I say.
Clay laughs. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll find someone."
"Honestly, Amber, you should just do it. I'm willing to bet
you have the entire script memorized, and you're a
redhead."
I freeze, looking over at her. "What?"
She shrugs. "It's one scene. Read the lines with Peter."
"There has to be some other option."
"You can't push it o ," Clay says. "It's a huge waste of
budget to have to prep this again."
I give him a look, as if he didn't teach me most of what I
know about running a practical set. "I can't exactly be in
front of the camera when I'm supposed to be behind it,
Clay."
That's the reason I'm going to give, but that's not the
main reason. The real reason is that this is an important
scene, not to mention one of the sexiest. It's filled with
sexual tension, and the couple's first kiss. Two days ago I
would have done this in a heartbeat, professionalism be
damned. But now, even though it's something I need to do
for the show, Peter could interpret it as me trying to force
his hand. To torture him. I don't want that.
But I'm looking at Clay and he's smiling, arms open like
he's ready to hug me. "But darling, I'm here. You don't need
to be behind the camera when you have me to oversee
everything."
 My heart sinks. I was hoping he wouldn't o er. But he's
Clay, so of course he will. He wants to see me succeed, even
in this non-conventional circumstance. "Gloria, make one
more set of calls and see if the agencies have found anyone.
If not, we'll go with plan B."
"Okay." She pulls out her phone and moves away.
"How's everything going besides your unfortunate stand-
in situation?" he asks.
"Fine," I say.
He raises an eyebrow. "That sounds like a lie."
"Everything on the show is fine," I say. "I've got some
personal stu going on. Nothing to worry about though."
He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Good girl. I know it's
hard to keep it separate, but it's for the best."
"I hope so." I glance toward Peter, who's making notes in
his script. I want nothing more than to go over and talk to
him. But if we're possibly going to have to do this, I don't
want to make it any worse.
"Sorry, no dice," Gloria says as she comes back over.
“They're really apologetic, but they just don't have anybody
who fits what we need. They're all too tall or brunette or
something else."
"Well, I guess that settles it," I say, sighing. "Can you
bring Peter over here please?"
"Sure." She flits over to him, and even though he gives
me a cold look, he comes.
He sees Clay and reaches out to shake his hand. "What's
going on?"
"We haven't found a replacement for Rebecca," I say,
avoiding his gaze. "And since Clay was here anyway, he's
graciously o ered to take my place behind the camera while
I stand in."
I see Peter's body go completely still. "You're going to
stand in?"
 "Apparently there are no five-foot something redheads
available in L.A. today. So we’ll shoot your angles of the
scene today, and we'll pick up the two-shots and Harley's
side when she's back from New York tomorrow."
He nods shortly. "Okay. When are we going?"
"They're doing the last of the touch-ups now."
"Good." Then he turns and walks back across the set. Clay
is looking after him, seemingly puzzled.
"He needs his space for emotional scenes," I explain.
"But he always delivers more than what I ask, so it's a small
price to pay."
Clay leans on the arm of my chair. "He's really that
good?"
"I think so. I think he could be really big. Tom Cruise
big."
He laughs. "That's ambitious, but go for it."
Gloria touches me on the arm. "Wardrobe needs you for
the shirt."
"Right." We're only doing over-the-shoulder shots, so I
shouldn't have to change my pants. I excuse myself and step
into our wardrobe closet, which only makes things worse
because all I can think about is how Peter fucked me up
against that wall and it was one of the hottest moments of
my life.
They get me into the shirt, which is far more revealing
than something I would wear on set. And the minute I walk
out the door, Peter and lock eyes. Heat rolls up my body, and
I can't fight the flush on my cheeks. God, I wish they'd send
me to make up so foundation would cover it. Thankfully I
think I'm far enough across the room that he can't see.
But I want him to see. I want him to see that he still
a ects me more than ever. That I was wrong and I'm sorry,
even if there's no way he'll ever be able to tell that from a
blush.
 I haven’t acted in…forever. It’s not that I don’t know how,
or even that I’m expected to act as a stand-in, but it’s with
Peter. I’m having flashbacks of us acting together, and all
the moments that entailed.
Gloria is right though, I know the script by heart, and I
know where I’m supposed to stand and what to do. Clay has
draped himself in my chair, and I allow them to adjust the
lighting as I step into the frame. The director of photography
fixes the shot, and suddenly Peter is in front of me. His eyes
are cold, professional.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Sure.”
Clay calls out. “Okay Amber, Peter.”
I move to my mark outside of the door to the apartment
set. “And, action.”
Knocking on the door, I’m aware of the camera behind
me, and it’s not Peter who answers the door, it’s Alex. Raw
and sexy and fiery. He leans in the doorway. “Genova.”
I push past him into the set. “Alex.”
His presence pulses with energy behind me and we circle
each other so the camera is behind me again. “What are you
doing here?” I don’t answer, making a point of looking
through his place, making myself comfortable. “I don’t think
your father would like you being here.”
“My father doesn’t tell me where to go. Besides, I think
he’d be comfortable knowing I’m safe with one of his most
trusted lieutenants.” Genova suspects there’s something up
with him, but that’s not why she’s here.
“I’m not that,” he says, prowling towards me. “Not yet.”
“You will be.”
He’s right in front of me now, and I can feel the energy
pouring o him. I want to reach out and touch him, but not
yet. That’s not in the script. But this feels like what we had
just a couple of days ago, this vibrant, humming tension.
We’ve always had good chemistry acting, and it’s harder not
to let it bleed across the boundaries now then it was then.
“I’m not sure about that,” he says softly.
I look up at him then, seeing the want and love in his eyes
that’s not for me. It’s for Genova, and it hurts. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t think your father’s going to be happy
about me doing this.” He reaches out and pulls me toward
him, and suddenly he’s kissing me.
Holy fuck.
Fire consumes me, and suddenly I’m kissing him back.
Yes, yes, yes. My whole body is singing and somehow this is
everything. The last two days thinking I’d never have this
again, it’s amazing and perfect and it hurts because I know it
might be the last time.
I get lost in this kiss, and I know that it’s not a character
anymore. This is me and Peter. I want it. I’m not sure how I
could have ever said otherwise. What a fucking idiot I am.
“Cut!”
The word rings out across the set, but it doesn’t register. I
don’t stop kissing Peter. My arms are around his neck and I
want to pull him closer. One more second, and he’s pulling
away. I suddenly become aware that we were kissing well
past cut, and Peter takes a step away from me.
I feel the weight of the stares of the crew, but all I can do
is look at Peter, and I see him. Him. And he doesn’t hate me. I
can see it in his eyes, the want and need as desperate as my
own. I’m so relieved and so terrified about what just
happened. Everybody saw.
Clay approaches mine. “Good, good. I think that was
pretty good. You were right, Amber, he really delivers. I don’t
think we need to get another take. But Peter, don’t forget
you’ll still have to film the rest when Harley returns.”
“Of course.”
 I turn to look at him, to smile, but he’s gone. He’s already
half-way across the set, striding toward the door that leads
to the lot. And all the hope I’d just built up slips away. Maybe
I was wrong. Maybe even though I saw that he feels what I
do, I wrecked it. Maybe he’s going to keep his word, that he’s
not going to come back.
 7

PETER
PAST

The nerves churn in my gut as I pull up to the train station. I

double checked the time my mom sent and I asked her again
if she was sure that she was coming. All signs say yes. But I
also know that I'm not going to believe it until I see her.
Aunt Lily is still skeptical, and I suppose that she has good
reason to be. After everything my mother has done, she's
going to have to earn back Lily's trust.
Mine too.
There's a seed of hope in my stomach that isn't crushed
though. It's sitting there like a piece of light waiting for her
to walk o the train. I park the car and head inside. It's not
too busy this time of day, and the signs clearly point to the
train coming in from Virginia. The space is light and open,
and there aren't a whole lot of places to sit, so I stand and
wait by a pillar.
Eleven o'clock comes and goes, and nothing happens. It's
almost ten past when people begin to spill out of the
entryway for that train. It seems strange, but I'm worried
that I won't recognize her. The last time I saw her she was so
high, so wasted away from drugs, that she’d faded into
someone that I barely recognized. If she's clean, then she
might be the next iteration of her. Another person I don't
recognize.
"Peter!"
There's a woman waving at me. She's older, but
everything in me sags in relief. It's her. There's no doubt
about it. That little seed of hope sends beams of light
shooting through my body and I can't keep the smile o my
face, or the speed out of my steps as I run over to her. I can't
stop myself, I wrap her in a hug. "Hi, Mom."
She feels so familiar, and I have to push back tears as she
wraps her arms around me.
"It's so good to see you," she says, pulling back to look at
me. "You're so big!" She hesitates. "But of course you'd be
di erent, it's been so long."
There's a light that goes out in her eyes and I hate the
guilt that's there. "It doesn't matter," I say, picking up her
suitcase. "You're here now."
"I am," she agrees.
I lead her through the station toward my car. I'm
suddenly wondering what she's going to think of my life. My
car, my apartment, my job. Will she be proud of me? Will she
think the clunker second-hand car that I bought isn't good
enough? I push down the nerves. "Are you hungry? We can
go to lunch before we go home if you want."
She smiles. "That would be nice."
Downtown there are plenty of places to eat, and although
I don't come down here much, I do know a cafe that has good
food and prices that don't shoot straight through the roof. I
put her bags in my car before zipping down the road to it.
The silence in the car is overwhelming. Not awkward, just
full of the things that I want to say and want to hear, and
probably all the things she wants to say too. It's only a five-
minute drive to the cafe, and neither of us speak, like we're
waiting for the food to get us to open up.
 It works.
Once we've both placed our orders, I ask, "So, how are
you?"
"You know," she says, "I'm really good. I've gone to
rehab, got a new job, and I think I'm finally getting my life
back on track. I'm just sorry that you got in the middle of all
of that."
I give her smile. I can't tell her that it's okay, because it's
not. "It all worked out."
"How are you doing? What are you doing? I want to hear
everything."
I'm not totally sure that she wants to hear everything, but
once she asks, it's like the words just pour out of me. I didn't
realize how badly I wanted to tell her how I fell in love with
acting and Amber and about my dreams and wanting to
move to L.A. I tell her everything that she's missed, even
about Amber and how it fell apart and it's my fault. And how
I tried to make up for it by making sure that she got into
whatever college she chose.
"It sounds like you've had a good life since I left," she
says, her face sad.
I reach across the table and take her hand. "It would have
been better if you had been there."
"Do you actually believe that?" she asks.
"I do."
There's a silent moment before she squeezes my hand
back.
"What job do you have now?"
She grins. "I'm a hair dresser. Once I got clean, this
program helped me go to beauty school. I like it. There's
something nice about helping people look their best. It's like
being a therapist, but better. And I met a nice guy."
There's a twinge in my chest. My mother's problems in
the past have stemmed a lot from men, but she has a right to
be happy. And if she's gotten her life back together this
much, then I need to give her the benefit of the doubt.
"Oh?"
"Yeah," she says, taking a bite of a french fry. "He came
in for a haircut and we've been together ever since. He's a car
salesman. Owns his own dealership and everything!"
"I'm really happy for you, Mom."
"Thanks."
I take a bite of my burger and swallow before I ask the
next question. "Do you want to see Aunt Lily while you're
here?"
Mom grimaces. "Does she want to see me?"
"She can be convinced, and I think it would be great for
her to see how well you're doing."
"Yeah..." she trails o . "If she says yes, then sure. But I
wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to see me. I honestly
wouldn't have blamed you either."
"Why wouldn't I want to see you?"
She looks up, and her eyes fill with tears. "Because I
abandoned you. I was too high to even care if you were safe
or warm or homeless. What kind of mother does something
like that?"
I smile, and squeeze her hand again. "I've forgiven you,
and you're here now." The fact that I had forgiven her was
news to me just now, but I'm not angry about it. There's
nothing either of us can do to change it now, so there's no
point in rehashing it over and over.
As we eat, we talk more about her lives. I tell her how I'm
saving money to move to L.A. and that I want to make a go at
acting because I think I could be really good at it, and she
tells me about her favorite clients, and funny stories in her
salon. Everything from bad mistakes to irate customers to
the time her boss didn't see a pile of hair and slipped on it
like a banana peel. It feels good. It feels natural.
 Since Amber left, I haven't had anyone that I could just sit
and talk about life with. Not that Amber is in any way like my
mother, but she was my best friend. And telling my mom
about everything that's been happening soothes that urge I
have to call Amber and fill her in on all aspects of my life.
And more than that, makes me feel alive again. Like I'm not
the person that people use and abandon. That I mean
something to someone.
When we finish eating and are heading back to the car, I
ask her, "What do you want to do now? I can show you
around the town. We can head back to my apartment. We
could see a movie."
"I want to see where you live," she says, eyes bright, "But
first." She opens the back of my car and digs around in one
of her bags. She pulls out a present that's wrapped perfectly.
Bright red paper and a white bow, almost like a present you
would see in a TV commercial. "Tony, my boyfriend, has a
friend that lives not too far from here. When he heard I was
coming up here he asked if I could drop o this birthday gift
so he could save on postage." She rolls her eyes but she's
smiling. "Can we do that real quick? I have the address."
Something twists in my gut, but I can't pinpoint the
reason why. It's not like I expected that the present was for
me. "Sure."
"After I drop it o we can do whatever you want, and I
really want to see your place."
She reads o the address to me from her phone and she's
right, it's only a ten-minute drive. She keeps talking about
Tony and how silly he is, but she loves him so she's willing
to do this kind of stu for him. The neighborhood we're in
isn't exactly great, but there are plenty of sketchy
neighborhoods around here. The neighborhood I live in right
now isn't exactly high class. We pull up to a house with
peeling white paint and I point to it. "That's it."
 "Okay. I'll just be two seconds."
"So you want me to come with you?"
She waves a hand. "No, just a drop o . I'm not going in
for tea and cookies." She hops out of the car and up the
stairs and I watch as she rings the doorbell. Not long after a
handsome man in jeans and a t-shirt comes to the door. It
looks like they have a brief interaction and he smiles wide as
he takes the present from her. I don't miss the way he looks
her up and down as she comes back to the car. I don't like
him.
"All done," she says as she slides back in. "Now, let's go
see your place."
I don't say anything as we drive away, but I can't shake
the feeling that that guy isn't the kind of guy that my mom
should be interacting with anymore, and that there's a lot
more going on here than meets the eye. But I can't lose
mom. Not now when she's come back. Not after losing
Amber. I'm not sure how many more losses I can take, so I'm
going to enjoy the fact that she's here and clean and so far,
seems like most everything is okay.
 8

PETER
PRESENT

Fucking hell.
Shit.
What the fuck was that?
I had a plan. A perfect plan to stay away from Amber and
keep it cool and professional and perfectly clean just the way
she wanted it. I'm so frustrated that I could scream. I settle
for storming across the lot to my trailer and back, and to it
again. I scrub my face over my hands because this is too
much. Of course this would happen. Of course the universe
would put us in a position where we have to kiss, and I have
to be the one to stop it. Of course that kiss would feel like
oxygen when I'm su ocating.
I'm so hard that it aches and I don't want anything but to
walk back onto set and pull Amber out of there so I can fuck
her up against a wall. In her chair. In my chair. On the
concrete ground of the lot. I don't care. I can still feel the
imprint of her lips on mine and the way she wrapped herself
around my neck. There's no doubt in my mind that she still
wants this. Wants us. But how can she with everything that
she said? Not to mention that she nearly just did what she
claimed she was so afraid of, getting so lost in our kiss that
she didn't even hear Clay call cut.
 I have to do something. Anything. This tension needs to
come out. Storming into my trailer, I have one hand on the
lock and one hand on my belt. I can't undo it fast enough,
and I'm so hard that when my cock springs free I almost
come because of the relief. I drop my hand to touch myself,
and I hiss with the harshness and friction. It's only steps to
my bathroom, and I step inside. Most people probably won't
be surprised that I have lotion handy. There are hours and
hours of waiting on set, and sometimes you need to blow o
steam.
Shit, thinking about blowing makes me think about
Amber on her knees, mouth open, waiting for me. She hasn't
done that for me since we were together before, but I swear I
remember it like it was yesterday. The lotion on my hand is
slick, and suddenly this friction is perfect and delicious and
god I'm going to come fast. I need to come fast.
In my mind's eye I see her taking the tip of me in her
mouth, cherry red lipstick coating my cock as she bobs up
and down, taking me deeper. Those perfect eyes look up at
me, and I swear she smiles, eager for me. It's when her
tongue strokes me that I lose it, pleasure blazing through my
balls and up my spine and out. I stroke myself until every
last drop of pleasure fades, my breath coming hard and fast
as I lean back against the wall. The intensity of that orgasm
was absurd, and Amber isn't even here. Fuck.
I clearly need a new plan, because this one isn't going to
work.
Maybe I should talk to her. She said she wanted to, but
I'm hesitant. My chest could be ripped open at any second,
and she could tear my heart out, and stomp on it in front of
me. And I would let her do it, because even if I pretend that I
don't, I love Amber. I always have. Shit.
I don't know if this show is the best thing that ever
happened to me or the worst. I was happy before the show,
or happy enough. In the last couple of months, I've had more
highs and lows than the entire ten years we were apart. Is
risking everything for what I think would be true happiness
worth the pain it would bring? My gut says yes, but my head
remembers how hard it was when she left the first time. I
could probably do it again if I had to, but that kind of pain
isn't something that I'd wish on anyone.
There's a knock on my door, and I startle. "Yes?"
"Mr. Holleman? They need you in wardrobe for your next
costume."
"I'll be right there."
I'm still leaning against the wall with my cock out of my
pants. Shit. I'm not holding this together very well. I'm glad
that Michael hasn't turned up yet today or he would lose his
shit. He would be in here yelling at men about kissing
Amber. And I probably would have punched him because I
wouldn't give that kiss back for the world, even if it was in
front of the entire crew. Amber in Genova’s low cut, skin-
tight top, the way she pressed up against me, it's turning me
on again, and I clean myself up and redo my pants before
stepping out of the trailer, a nervous PA still standing there.
I know my way to the wardrobe closet, but I'm not going
to take it out on the PA. He's just doing his job, and based on
how young he is, it's probably his first one. I remember my
first on-set job, I was about to piss myself the whole time.
Thankfully we're doing some more easy shots this
afternoon. No dialogue, no intense emotions, and no kissing.
If I had to kiss her again I would combust. Not that that's a
bad thing. But the moment I walk onto the set again I know
that things are di erent. This morning I was doing an okay
job keeping myself separate. I wasn't aware of where she was
or what she was doing. I wasn't trying to make her smile
from across the room. Now, I feel like there's a magnetic
force that's pulling towards each other, and I don't fight it.
 She's looking down at her script as I approach, and she
looks up when I step in front of her. The shock and relief in
her eyes makes me want to kiss her again right here.
"Amber."
"Peter."
"I was short with you this morning. I apologize. At some
point I would be happy to talk about us." I try to keep my
tone as even as possible. This needs to be objective. We need
to evaluate everything from every angle and decide. Or she
does. I've made my decision and I'm hers if she'll have me.
She's wearing that lipstick that I saw in my fantasy and I'm
distracted by the sight of her lips.
"Really?" Her voice is breathless and hopeful.
I nod. "Yes. When there's time."
"Time?"
"You pick the time. I think we both have a lot to say, and I
know we have a busy shooting schedule. But we'll talk." And
more, I hope. Our reunion was way too short.
"Okay, we'll set the time." A small smile hovers around
her lips. "Do I need to ask Michael to set it up like an o cial
meeting?"
I allow myself to smile. This feels more normal. "I'd
prefer if we left him out of this. I'm more of a one-on-one
kind of guy."
"Don't worry," she says with a smirk, "I don't like to
share either."
I laugh, but it's hollow. I hope we talk soon. I feel like I'm
walking on a tightrope and could fall at any second.
"You ready for the scene?"
"Yeah," I say. "Whenever you are."
The entire time I'm filming I can feel her eyes on me. And
the rare times I meet her eyes, her expression wavers from
excitement to panic and sadness. She's just as mixed up
inside as I am, and I'm the only one who can see it. All it took
was one day in the snow for both of our lives to change
forever. We'll have to see if it was worth it.
 9

AMBER
PAST

New York is absolutely amazing. I know that my heart is still

in L.A., but I'm not going to mind spending a few years here.
We saw a show, and spent the first night in the hotel.
Yesterday we explored Central Park and walked around
uptown. Today we're doing the lower part of the island, and
we're exploring an elevated park called The High Line. I
didn't know that spaces like this existed in New York. It's
bright and open with plenty of green trees and places to sit. I
can see myself coming here a lot.
"So," my mom says, "when you're here, do you want a
dorm situation or just a regular apartment?"
"The NYU dorms are kind of like apartments."
"Yeah, but they're still dorms. It's up to you. All about the
kind of experience you want. It's already New York, so it's
going to be di erent than any other college anyway."
I laugh. "Well I had always planned on an apartment
wherever I went. Because Peter and I-" I cut myself o and
freeze, momentarily blocking the people behind us.
My mom pulls me to the side of the stream of people,
looking at me with sympathy. "Yeah, I know, sweetie."
"You knew you were planning to live together?"
 She raises an eyebrow. "Your father and I aren't stupid.
There's a reason we asked you to keep it in the house. You
two were so deeply in love we thought a ring might happen
at graduation. We weren't going to stop you from living
together. At that point we wouldn't have been able to stop
you anyway."
Tears fill my eyes and I bury my face in my hands. "Oh
honey," my mom pulls me in to her and for a moment I can
pretend that I'm not crying in public. "This is why I asked. I
know that you had planned an apartment. But I wondered if
that might remind you too much of everything."
"I'm so mad at him," I say. "And I miss him."
Her hands rub in soothing circles up and down my back.
"It's never too late, if that's what you want."
I pull back. "Of course it's too late. I destroyed him."
"Clearly you didn't," she says. "I don't think he would
have sent all those packages if he didn't still care about you."
Starting to walk again, I rub my eyes on the back of my
sleeve. "People do a lot of things when they feel guilty."
She sighs, but doesn't say anything.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No," I say. "Seriously, Mom. What is it?"
"I don't want to ruin our day."
I roll my eyes. "You really think that what you have to say
is that bad?"
She lifts her hands in surrender as we walk. "Fine. Your
father and I both think you need to get over it."
I look over at her. "Over Peter?"
"You can get over him if you like, but no. You need to get
over the fact that he told me about what was going on. It
took a lot of guts for him to tell me even though he knew it
would hurt you. He was scared you weren't well, and you
weren't. You know he saved your life, and he apparently just
helped your college career. I know that you feel betrayed by
him, that you think he shouldn't have done it, but he did the
right thing. You have no way of knowing if you'd even have
made it one more day."
We've been walking and now we're under a building
that's cut through by the High Line, a cool breeze wafting
through the tunnel. There are some displays of local art and
a stand selling ridiculously overpriced ice cream. My mind is
holding onto all the details it can, like it's trying to avoid
everything that my mother just said.
She's right. Of course she's right, but I'm still pissed. And
it still hurts. "I know," I say. "But—"
"I know it sucks."
"It does suck," I say. "Have you ever had that?"
She wraps an arm around my shoulder. "Have I ever had
anyone betray my trust? Of course I have. And it's always the
worst, but it gets better."
"That's the thing though, Mom. It doesn't feel like he
betrayed my trust. It feels like the person who I was closest
to in the world took everything I had worked for, threw it in
the dirt and danced on it. And he never tried to—" I stop,
trying to find the words. "He never tried to reach out. Never
tried to talk. He said he was sorry, but I thought that if he
was sorry he would have contacted me by now."
"In a way," she says, "he did. He didn't have to send
those packages but he did. He doesn't know that you're sick
or that you put o college for a year. For all he knows you're
at one of those schools having the time of your life. I know
you feel that you got the short end of the stick here, and in a
lot of ways you did. But I don't think that this has been easy
for him either."
I take a minute to think about that, and how I left him in
that hallway. He never reached out to me, but I never did to
him either. I blocked him on every avenue I could find
because I didn't want to hear from him. Even if he had tried
to reach out, I don't think I would have gotten the message.
Those packages he sent to the schools were probably the
only way he could think of to show me what he was thinking.
And he never had any idea that I never knew. Not until now.
"I still think it's too late," I say.
"Maybe it is," Mom says. "Maybe it isn't. If you need any
kind of closure, I say it's worth trying to talk to him. If you
don't, and you don't want to talk to him that's fine too. But
you need to let the hurt go. It's not going to help you
anymore."
"Yeah..." I say.
"I won't say anything more," she says, looping her arm
through mine.
She doesn't have to. The seed is already in my brain, and
whether or not I think about it, it's going to be there in my
subconscious, working its way through. "Yeah." I say again.
"So what do you want to do now? Chelsea Market is close
to the end."
"What's that?"
She grins. "I have no idea but it sounds cool from
everything I've seen online."
"Sounds good to me." I try to push what she's said out of
my head, but it's going to stick. All the way through the
amazing market where there are flowers and weird
chocolates and honey milkshakes and more food than I could
ever possibly eat. It's delicious and filled with people and I
have a hard time envisioning a place that's more New York.
But I'm sure I'll find one.
We make our way to Washington Square Park and I take a
selfie with the arch, and we see another show that evening.
By the time we make it back to the hotel we're both
exhausted and ready to sleep, but I'm still thinking about
Peter. My mom is right, I do need some kind of closure. Even
if we don't talk in any other way, I need him to know that I
forgive him. Because I do. Fully and completely.
I curl up in my bed and turn away from my mother so that
she doesn't see, and I pull up Peter's number. I never deleted
it from my phone, and when I pull it up, all of our previous
texts are still there. I start scrolling through, and fight the
tears that come with it. I didn't realize how much of the grief
of losing him remained. Maybe now that I'm experiencing
the grief, I will finally be able to let it go.
The last thing he ever texted to me was 'I love you.'
Is he going to see that when I text him? Does he have all
of our old texts saved or did he purge me from his life the
way I tried to do to him?
I go into his contact and unblock the number. What do I
say?
There's so much to say and yet all of it feels inadequate.
Too small. I start to type of bunch of things, and delete them.
Again and again. Finally, I settle on something simple.

Peter,
I'm sorry for the things I said, and I wanted you to know that I
forgive you. If you want to talk, I'm here.

I stare at it for a long time before I press send, and I watch as

the little bar moves across the top of the screen, trying to
send. It seems to be having a hard time, and the Wi-Fi in the
hotel is crappy so I have to move my phone around a bit for
it to finally go through. It still seems to be having a hard
time. I feel a sliver of dread when the text bubble turns from
blue to green, because that always means there's a problem
with the connection.
Finally, it sends.
 I wait, and wait, and wait, and there's no response. I close
my eyes, because it's late and wherever he is, he's probably
asleep. But as soon as I close my eyes I feel the phone vibrate
against my skin. He answered. My artificially powered heart
starts to pound. I can't look at it. What did he say? I didn't
even think about what he would actually text back. I'm going
to throw up.
I pull the phone up and swipe to open it, and my stomach
falls. The text isn't from Peter. It's an automated response,
simply telling me that this number isn't in service anymore.
He's gone, and it's too late, and I don't know how to feel
about that.
I guess I don't have any choice now. I have to move on.
10
 PETER
PRESENT

Amber calls cut on the last shot of the day, and my body
relaxes. I’ve never been so aware of a person, even when I
was actively pursuing her. I walk o the set and grab a bottle
of water, only to feel a hand come down on my shoulder and
turn to find Michael standing there. I nod. “Hey.”
“I ran into Clay Markham on the way in, he said
everything looks amazing.”
“That’s good.”
“It really is. They’re pouring a lot more money into
advertising, and the network is going to do an early research
showing of the pilot for some industry people later this
month.”
I laugh. “Does that mean they’re going to make us
reshoot stu ?”
“Not if the pilot is good, which I hear it is.”
Opening the bottle of water, I take a sip. “Good.”
“Be more excited, Peter. A good showing will mean more
investors, which means a bigger budget for shooting and
marketing. You know how this works.”
“Yeah, I do. I’m happy, I promise. Just…focused.” Focused
is good. Focused is something that he’ll buy.
Michael gives me a look. "What's going on with you?"
 "What are you talking about?"
He gestures up and down, like he's indicating my whole
body. "I don't know you seem...more moody than normal.
Between this and you disappearing for two days—"
"I didn't disappear."
"Well..."
Taking another sip of water, I pin him with my eyes.
"Michael, I didn't disappear. Not answering my cell phone
because I want to clear my head isn't disappearing. You're
being dramatic."
"Okay, well it's definitely something." He takes a step
closer and lowers his voice like he doesn't want anyone else
to hear. "Are you having problems on set? Anyone on the
crew? Because if you are, tell me now. The easiest time to get
them replaced is now when the show is still an unknown. But
after the pilot showing or release, if it's as popular as we
hope, it'll be a lot harder because of all the press attention."
"What? No, I'm fine with the crew. Everyone is good. I'm
fine."
"But Peter—"
"Michael." I put my growing frustration into my voice.
"Believe it or not, it's not actually your job to manage my
mood. I'm fine. Please let it go."
Because like hell am I going to get into another argument
about Amber. I don't need another pissing contest between
Michael and me right now. Especially since I'm the one that
will win anyway, and it will only make me more angry.
Michael has done everything for my career, but the more
pushy he is about my personal life and my feelings, the more
our relationship chafes. If it keeps going like this, I might
have to reconsider it completely.
He doesn't look happy, but he backs down. "Okay. Clay is
hosting a party at a bar tonight since everything is going so
well. The whole crew is invited, and I'll make sure everyone
knows about the invitation."
"Where is it?"
"He rented out Fantasia," he chuckles. "Clay Markham at
his finest."
Fantasia is a bar known for its over-the-top spectacle and
crazy nights. From the little I've seen of Clay, it fits his
personality perfectly. "Open to the public?" I ask. A party is
one thing. Going to a club where regular people might be is
di erent. I'll have to be a representative of the show and on
my best behavior.
"Public, no. Clay's friends, yes. So there will be industry
people there."
That I can handle. "I'll be there."
"Good." He claps me on the shoulder again. "Maybe you,
Amber, and I can find a few minutes to have that
conversation that we missed at dinner."
"Sure," I say, even though I don't see why she'd want a
creative partnership with me since she's unsure if she wants
any kind of partnership with me.
I down the rest of my small water bottle and toss it into
the recycling bin next to the table. Given the way Michael is
constantly moving, I expect him to grab his phone, be swept
up in an email, and be washed away on a tide of electronic
things he has to do. But he doesn't.
"I have one more thing," he says.
I raise an eyebrow in question.
"I know what you're probably going to say, but I need to
ask. Clay told me about the kiss on the way out. He seems
nervous about it, like it went too far. We don't need a
Calamity Mountain situation on our hands. So again, speak
now if this is going to be a problem."
I clear my throat and stare him down. "Walk away from
me, Michael."
 "Peter—"
"Do it. Right now. I've already made myself clear to you
on the subject of me and Amber. We're not going to do it
again."
He sighs. "Fine. I'll see you tonight."
"Yes."
And then he does what he's told, and walks towards the
door to the lot—away from me.
Shit. If Clay is worried about it, that's not a good thing.
He's a brilliant director, but also known for being one of
Hollywood's biggest gossips. There's nothing Clay Markham
doesn't know about anyone and everyone. I'll talk to him
tonight, since he already left set. Do some damage control I
suppose. But first, I need to talk to Amber. Give her a heads
up about everything that's going to happen and be expected
of us tonight.
She's still here on the set, and I walk up behind her.
Gloria sees me first and taps Amber on the arm. When Amber
finally turns, she hesitates for a second. "Gloria, will you
give us a second?"
"Sure." She makes herself scarce, and even though I
suspect that Gloria is like Clay, knowing everything about
everyone, she's going places. She knows how to give space
when it's needed. "What's up?" Amber asks.
"I'm sure Gloria has already told you about Fantasia?"
"Yeah," she laughs. "It's very Clay. But it should be fun
for a little while."
I slide my hands in my pockets, because now that I'm this
close to her, I have the urge to reach out and touch her, and I
can't. "I know I said I'd let you pick the time and place, but it
has to be tonight."
She frowns. "I'm fine with that, but why?"
"Michael wants to have the conversation with you about
our creative partnership. I think it's important that we know
first if we're going to have any other kind of partnership.
That, and Clay is concerned about our kiss, and I'm sure you
know why. I'll do damage control one way or another, but I
need you to know how I'm spinning it."
She goes a little pale and sits down in her chair. "Yeah,
that's my fault."
I take a step towards her so we're even closer. "Not
entirely."
"I'm the director."
"You're used to saying cut not hearing it. I could have
stopped kissing you. I didn't."
She looks up at me, painful hope in her eyes. "Why?"
"You know why." All the emotions that I've been pushing
down are surfacing. I've tried to be distant, it didn't work. I
tried to be angry, it didn't work. Devastated didn't work
either. Fuck. I clear my throat. "I'll find you tonight," I say,
and walk away. Because when we start this conversation,
we're going to finish it, and this isn't the place.
My cock is rock hard again as I walk to wardrobe to
change back into my own clothes. I'm going to have to figure
out one hell of an image keep myself from getting in this
state while filming, because no matter the outcome of our
conversation tonight, I can't imagine a time where she's not
going to turn me on.
I realize as I'm walking away that it doesn't matter what
she says. Even if I have to just watch her from a distance on
this set and then let her go. Amber is the one, and if that's all
of herself that she'll give to me, then it will have to be
enough.
11
 PETER
PAST

Mom went out to get some personal things at the store five
hours ago. Obviously something is wrong, but I haven't been
able to get a hold of her. I've been calling her phone
obsessively, but no answer. She took my car, so I can't go
looking for her. Shit. This feels way too familiar. But it's
probably nothing, right? She'll be fine. She isn't the same.
She's got her life back on track.
I call her phone again. Nothing. I should call Aunt Lily,
but I don't. Not yet.
It's another hour of phone calls and nothing before I hear
footsteps on the stairs. I open the door and she's there,
hands with a couple of grocery bags and a big smile on her
face. "Hi Peter!"
"Where have you been?" I ask as she pushes past me.
"Oh, you know, here and there."
I take the bags from her and put them on the kitchen
counter. "It's been six hours. It doesn't take six hours to go
to the grocery store."
"I was just taking my tiiiiiime, you know?" She flops
down on the couch.
That's not the way she speaks. At least it's not the way
she speaks when she's sober. There's a knot in my stomach
and I turn back to the grocery bags. She said she was going
to get tampons and make-up remover, and that she forgot a
couple of other toiletries. But that's not what's in the bag.
What's in the bag makes me dizzy, sending my mind flying
backwards in time to the worst part of my life. In the bag are
oranges, goldfish, some cheese sticks, and butterscotch
candy. The other bag has a twelve-pack of beer.
Before I can think, I'm striding for the bathroom, making
it only seconds before I'm retching over the toilet. Barely
anything comes up, but it's enough. Enough to have me
swirling in memories and anger. The urge to empty myself
doesn't go away, my body trying to expel everything that has
to do with this. I'm not sure how long it takes.
When I can finally keep myself from heaving, I flush and
wash my face. And then I steady myself, because this is not
going to be easy or fun. I walk back into the living room.
"You're high?"
"I'm not high," my mother says dreamily, "I'm just really
relaxed."
"Don't bullshit me, Mom. We've been here before. You
don't think I recognize those groceries? Those are the things
you bought every single day before you found whatever local
dealer you could and snorted away the rest of the money."
Only Amber knew that the smell of oranges still makes me
nauseated.
Mom looks at me, and he eyes are glazed and bloodshot.
I'm not sure how I missed it when she was coming up the
stairs. "You know, Peter, for being my son you're way too
uptight."
"Mom—"
"I'm so proud of everything you're doing, but you need to
relax. You're too young to be so stressed out. You should be
more like me. See? I'm not stressed out. I'm
haaaaappyyyyyy."
 I feel something inside me snap. "I should be more like
you? Really? Thanks mom, but I'll pass."
"That's rude," she says.
"It's not rude. Not when I'm sure the rest of the money I
gave you to buy the things you needed went to whatever
you're on, and you still don't have the things you said you
needed. I wasn't lying when I said I forgave you for what you
did, but I didn't say that I was okay with you doing it again.
You're going have to leave. I'm not going to be a flophouse
for you to get high. You have a house in Virginia, and if you
want to get high, go there."
"I don't have a house in Virginia."
I freeze. "What?"
"They kicked me out. Tony kicked me out. I don't have a
job, or money. Please, you're my son. Just let me stay. I
promise I'll be good."
It feels like an entire bucket of ice water has been dumped
on my head. She lied. She lied about everything. "So you
came here sober just so you would have a place to stay to do
this again? I thought you were trying to get your life
together. What about the salon?"
She grins at me. "What salon?"
That grin tells me everything I need to know, and I think
that I'm going to throw up again. She made it all up. All the
funny stories and the people she met. Tony is probably real
but I know that she didn't meet him cutting his hair. She
may have even rehearsed what she was going to say to draw
me in. "I'm not going to do this, Mom. I'm not going to
watch you throw your life."
She's suddenly angry, on her feet and in my face, her
voice vicious. "You know what? I don't owe you shit, Peter. I
gave birth to you. Without me you wouldn't be alive, so it's a
little late to be so high and mighty. And you know what else?
This is who I am. I'm not gonna change. You want me to
change? That's fucked up."
I cross my arms and clench my jaw. "I don't think it's
fucked up for me to want my mother to stay alive."
But she doesn't stop, her tirade is at full speed now. "You
know who else wanted to change me? Your father. He wanted
me to change me so much that he hurt me. He used me and
hurt me and then he threw us away. Threw me away. You
gonna be like that too? You're going to throw me away?"
"I would never just throw you away, but I'm not going to
let you destroy yourself in my house with my money. I'm
happy to have you back in my life. But sober, looking
forward. I can't have you here like this."
I can't. It'll kill me. I'm having a hard time concentrating
because of all the memories that are surfacing. All the
similarities. All the things I never told anyone, not even
Amber. Like how the entire reason I decided to tell Amber's
mom about her condition was because my mother begged me
not to call the police while she was overdosing and dying. I
was seven. All the times she went out and didn't come back
for hours because she 'just got carried away' while she was
high and having sex with people.
All the stories she made up about the places we would go
and the things we would see just as soon as we had the
money. It's all complete, terrible, lies. And it hurts. I want
her in my life. I do, but not like this. I want to help her, but I
know all too well you can't help someone who doesn't want
help. "I'm leaving," I say. "I'll be back in a couple of hours.
You can leave or you can stay. But if you stay you're going to
get help. If you're still here, still high, and don't want to go
to rehab, I'm going to call the police."
I grab my keys and my wallet and leave before I can
change my mind and turn around. I can hear her calling my
name through the door, crying. But I know that cry and it's
not real. It's stopped by the time I make it down the stairs
when she realizes it's not going to make me come back.
That’s when the screaming starts. “You’re trash, Peter!
You’re never going to make it as an actor. That’s a stupid job
anyway. I don’t know why you’d ever think you’d be able to
do that. You’re stupid and you’ll never make it.”
She keeps going but I shut o my brain. I won’t listen to
that. It’s not real.
Somehow I drive to Aunt Lily's house. It's auto-pilot for
me. And when she opens the door, I know she sees it on my
face. "Come inside."
I sit down at her kitchen table and she makes tea while I
tell her what happened. “Feel free to say I told you so,” I say
miserably.
“Of course I’m not going to say that. I didn’t want this to
happen. I’ve just known your mom forever. So I knew the
odds.”
“I just really wanted it to be di erent this time.”
She reaches across the table and takes my hand like I did
with my mother just a couple of days ago. “I know.”
“What am I going to do if she doesn’t go?”
“You have to do what you said you would. Because going
back on your word only enforces that you don’t mean what
you say.”
“Yeah…”
“I’ll go with you,” she says. “I’ve done this enough times,
and you don’t need to do it alone.”
“Thanks, Aunt Lily.”
She smiles, and I’m thankful for her. Our relationship
while I was living here wasn’t great, partially because I
wasn’t great to her, and partially because she was afraid that
I would turn out like my mom. We’re both in a better place
now, and I’m so glad that I had a place like this to come
when I needed it.
 I’m so tired. On top of all the work just trying to get
somewhere, I’m exhausted from life. It felt like everything
was ripped out from under me with Amber, and I just kind of
felt like I was getting back on my feet when Mom called. Now
it’s all crumbling again. “I just want to sleep for like a
week.”
“You can,” Lily says, laughing.
“I can’t. I have to work. I need the money.”
She takes a sip of her tea. “That’s true, but you can at
least take a nap now. Sleep on the couch until we go back to
your place.”
I feel suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to shut my
eyes, and I don’t even protest. “Okay.”
Curling up on the couch, I think I’m asleep just seconds
after I lay down, and I barely feel a blanket being pulled over
me.
I wake up to a hand on my shoulder and I startle. “Sorry,”
Lily says. “We’ve got to go. Need to be on time for this. She
needs deadlines.”
“Right,” I say, scrubbing my face with my hands. I put on
my shoes quickly and we’re out the door, driving the short
distance to my apartment.
I know something’s not right the minute I come upstairs,
because the door is open. My mom isn’t in the apartment,
and I hear Lily gasp behind me, because neither is anything
else. I walk to my bedroom, and most things there are gone
too. The bed is still there, but that’s because they probably
couldn’t move it. Anything that’s of value, anything that
could possibly be sold, is gone.
She probably called that guy that we dropped o the
present to. The present that was almost certainly drugs. No
wonder my mom wanted to take the train. Security on trains
is far lower than on planes.
 Lily is shaking her head when I walk into the living room.
“I’m so sorry, Peter. I should have seen this coming.”
“No,” I say. “Don’t feel guilty for not seeing the worst in
someone. I wouldn’t have seen this coming either.”
Walking into the kitchen, my mom’s phone is on the
table. A clear sign that she’s cutting ties, since that’s the
only way that I had to contact her. She’s made her decision,
and I’m not it. I think it should hurt more than it does, but
when you’ve felt as much pain as I have, you get used to it.
12
 AMBER
PRESENT

Fantasia is one of the worst kept secrets in Los Angeles. It's

technically a speakeasy, with the entrance through another
restaurant, but the bar nearly always has a line to get in, so
the restaurant has a crowd of people waiting to get in. The
food at the restaurant is pretty good too, so I know a lot of
people put their name on the list to get into Fantasia and
then sit down to dinner. It works well for both the bar and
the restaurant—who pretend that they have nothing to do
with each other even though they're the same place,
technically.
Tonight I have the rare privilege of being able to go to the
front of the line and get in immediately. That's nice. It's
been a long time since I've been to Fantasia. It was only
once, and it was with Clay Markham. It's his favorite place.
The interior is a riot of color in Art Nouveau style. It's
jarring at first to see neon with the gentle designs of the
prohibition era. But once you get used to it, it's pretty cool.
Today, it's a party. The music is loud and there are plenty of
people dancing. A lot of people are already well on their way
to being drunk and it's still early. I see Clay holding court at
the bar and give him a wave. He enthusiastically waves me
over, but I'm not quite ready for that. I motion to the
bathroom, and head in that direction. When you get pulled
into Clay's circle, there's often shots and more shots, and I
have more than one conversation that I need to be at least
mostly sober for tonight.
I take up a position near the wall where I can see the
whole club, or at least most of it. I try to ignore the way my
eyes keep checking the door, but I need to know if he's
coming. He surprised me with his admission earlier. Maybe
he's not as angry as I thought he was? Maybe. There are too
many maybes and I know that I'm going to feel so much
better after we talk. If I'm honest, I'm hoping that this
evening is going to lead to more than talking, because even
though it's only been like three days since we slept together,
I need more.
It's like I had gotten clean of an addiction and the first
taste of him I get I'm craving him constantly. I'm sure it will
wear o after a while, but I don't know if I want it to.
Granted, that depends a lot on whether we decide we're
going to be together. I want to be, and based on what he said
a few hours ago, I think he wants to too. I just need to
apologize, and maybe beg a little. Tell him how stupid I was
to pull the plug so quickly.
I don't think I was wrong to be concerned, but we could
have worked on it together instead of me freaking out. He's
still not at the door. Come on, Peter. I bite my lip before
remembering that I have dark lipstick on and it’s probably
all over my teeth now. I'll fix it in a minute. Looking out over
the dance floor I see Gloria dancing with a cute lighting
technician from the show. She thinks no one has noticed the
way she keeps eyeing him, but I've noticed, and the way
they're dancing now, I would be shocked if they don't go
home together.
I laugh to myself. I'll have to keep an eye on her now,
make sure she's not sneaking o to have sex at work. That's
not exactly fair. Gloria is a professional. But considering the
fact that I never thought I'd do it and then definitely had sex
in the wardrobe closet, I'm not going to count anything out. I
bite my lip again. Dammit, Amber.
Ducking into the bathroom, I lean into the mirror to see,
and yeah, there's an absurd amount of lipstick on my teeth.
And that's when I hear the moan. I freeze. All the stall doors
are shut behind me, but there's a shu ing, and more
breathing and another moan and I blush. There are people
having sex. Here. Now. I don't move. Did they hear me come
in? Do they know that I'm here?
There's a low grunt of e ort and a slap of skin, and no,
they have no idea that I'm here. Probably for the best. I scrub
the lipstick from my teeth and quickly pull mine out of my
bag to re-apply. The sounds of sex get louder, the distinct
sound of thrusting, and the girl saying yes, over and over
again, a bigger blush covers my cheeks. I put on my lipstick
quickly and exit the bathroom as quietly as I can. I don't
want to be there for the grand finale.
I don't care if Peter's not here yet, I need a drink. I'm
walking to the bar when he's suddenly there. So close that I
almost run into him. "Hi," I say.
"Hello." He smirks. "You're blushing. Why?"
"No reason."
He's smiling, and God I love that smile. "That's a lie."
"I just heard something a little scandalous, nothing
major."
Peter raises his eyebrow, like he wants to know more, but
he doesn't ask. But then it’s like he sees me. He takes me in,
looks up and down my body, and I watch as his eyes darken.
This doesn’t do anything to help the state of my blush.
Words. I need words. "I was just going to get a drink," I say.
"I'll get it for you. I have a table reserved in the back. I
thought since we were planning to talk, as much privacy as
we can have here would be a good idea."
"Yeah," I say. "Thanks."
"What would you like to drink?"
I shake my head. I honestly don't care. "Surprise me."
There's that little half-smile that makes me weak in the
knees and wet in the panties. "I'll try."
Over where he pointed, there is a table with both of our
names listed, Michael and Clay's too, so we'll have to be
conscious of visitors, but the sta member making sure only
those who reserved the tables sit there smiles and lets me
through.
The alcove the table is sitting in is dark and cozy, the back
of the circular bench seat lined with velvet that feels good on
my skin. I wore a dress tonight because I wanted to look sexy
for Peter, and I don't know for sure if it's working but I think
that it is. The dress has a swooping low back and a plunging
front that makes it clear that I'm not wearing a bra. Only a
small strap on the back of my shoulders is keeping both
sides of the dress from slipping down and causing a fashion
faux pas. The lower half of the dress is knee-length and
flowing. I thought it would fit the feel of Fantasia. It leaves
something to the imagination, and this place is all about
imagination.
It takes a few minutes for Peter to navigate the crowds at
the bar with our drinks, but he comes back with a drink
that's an amazing shade of purple and hands that to me. His
drink looks like a classic tumbler of whiskey or something
darker. He settles in beside me, and I notice the deliberate
way he's looking at my face and not lower. So he has noticed
then. He's noticed and doesn't want to let himself look until
we've talked, ever the gentleman.
I take a sip of the purple drink and holy shit that’s good.
“What is in this? It’s amazing!”
 “White rum is the main ingredient, I think. Simple syrup,
Pineapple, and a couple other things.”
“I think you just created my new favorite drink,” I say,
laughing.
He takes a sip of his own drink. “I hope so.”
"So you wanted to talk."
"You did too," he says immediately.
"Yeah, I did."
He takes another sip of his drink in a sharp movement. "I
want to know why you thought I was quitting the show. You
honestly thought I'm so unprofessional that I'd quit the best
thing that's happened to both of us in our careers over a
fight?"
"I found your script in the hall. You'd just said that if I
wanted you gone then you'd go. I didn't know if you would
ever come back, and you didn't answer my phone calls for
two days. What was I supposed to think?"
Peter grimaces. "I was angry and frustrated. I threw it
down because it was the only thing I had to throw. I didn't
mean for it to be a bad omen."
"It scared the shit out of me," I say, emotion suddenly
welling up. "I knew that I fucked up the minute you were out
the door. You were gone. I went after you, but you weren't
there. I'm sorry, Peter. I really am. I was so scared that you
and I would lose everything that I wasn't thinking straight.
We could have worked everything out if I had just stayed
calmer, not assumed anything."
"I'm sorry too, but just saying that we're sorry to each
other isn't going to be enough," he says, voice low.
"I know."
He clears his throat, looks away. "I did a lot of thinking
while I wasn’t answer your calls. I went through everything a
thousand times. And I decided that I would stay away, if
that's what you really wanted. I convinced myself that I
could keep it cool and professional. But today...with that kiss.
I can't."
My body relaxes. "Thank God."
"But Amber," he says, "things have to be di erent. I lost
you twice now and both times it's felt like dying. I can't do
that again, not like this. If we're together, and somewhere
down the line we decide it's not working, I'll hate that, but
I'll understand. I can't have the ground ripped out from
under me again."
He pauses, like he's waiting for me to protest, but I don't.
I nod, waiting for him to go on.
"I love you. That hasn't changed. But I need you to
promise me that you're not going to do that. I need your
word that if you have doubts, if you’re panicking, that you'll
come to me and we'll talk about it. We'll figure something
out together. Because I can't. I can't."
His voice is so desperate that I have to look away. "I'm
sorry."
Peter takes my hand under the table. "I know, and I'm
sorry for walking away. I never should have done that." He
leans close, and from a distance it probably looks like he's
whispering in my ear in the loud club, but his lips brush the
skin beneath my ear. "But I still want you. You know I've
always wanted you."
I blink away the tears in my eyes. "Yes, please. I'm—"
He squeezes my hand and weaves his fingers in between
mine. "I know. You don't have to keep saying it."
I squeeze his hand back as I swallow the word ‘sorry’. “I
promise. I’m not going to do that again. I’ll come to you.”
“If I have my way, you won’t have to come to me,” he
says, “because I’ll just be with you.”
There's nothing that I want to do more than kiss him, but
we have other things to talk about. Like kissing in public. I
look out at the crowd, but no one seems to be paying
attention to us. "I'm still scared," I say. "I don't just want to
be another female director who fell for an actor."
"You know I won't let that happen," he says, thumb
brushing the skin of my hand. That tiny gesture feels so
intimate, and even though we're both holding ourselves
back, my body warms, and I feel myself lean towards him.
"I know."
"But," he says, "I also understand where you're coming
from. And I think you're right, for now."
"What do you mean?" I'm relaxed enough not that I can
take a sip of my drink. Finally. I take another big swig
because now that I'm not sick with nerves, I want the sweet
fuzziness that comes with being tipsy, with Peter by my side.
"I mean that we're both still in a precarious place. Once
the show premieres, or even after this showing that Michael
told me about, if those things go well, we'll have a lot more
leeway. We could even do a fun interview about how we fell
in love again on set, talk about our history, and come out as
a public couple in a way that people will like and respect,
instead of getting caught and ending up in the tabloids."
I can see it now, a sweet set interview side by side, with
Peter and me holding hands, laughing, with good
soundbites. "That makes a lot of sense."
"If you think you can stomach being in secret for a
while."
"Yeah, definitely. I had no idea how we would ever be able
to be public, so that works nicely. But that doesn't mean I
want to stop now."
Peter leans closer, and I'm aware of how close our bodies
are. Probably too close given what we're discussing, but I
can't care. "Neither do I. We just need to be aware of the risk.
And if something does happen, if our picture ends up in the
paper, it won't be the same."
 "You can't know that," I say, that familiar terror rising up
in me. It could be exactly like that.
"I do know that. First, you're not sleeping with an
eighteen-year-old boy. Second, the moment any paper
releases a picture of us, I will go on record confirming our
relationship, and I will make sure the world knows that
you're not a director that's gotten swept away by her leading
man. That we have a history that's been re-kindled. It will be
fine and perfect, and the most important thing is that we're
going to deal with it together, if it happens."
I nod, because his words calm that fear. I thank the
universe that we were thrown together, because there's
never been any person in the world that has the ability to
calm me down like Peter. His presence is like an anchor that
I've been missing. And I like to think that I'm his balloon. I
lift him up when he gets to wrapped up in himself or in the
things that have happened to him. So much has happened to
him, and to me. I close my eyes against tears again. I'm not
going to cry. I'm not going to. I take another sip of my drink
and lean as close as I dare. "I missed you."
"Even for only two days?"
"Yes."
Peter's hand tightens on mine. "God, I want to kiss you,"
he says, and that heat returns to my body, between my
thighs.
"I want to do more than kiss you," I say.
His chuckle is dark, and his gaze travels down me again.
"Today, after that kiss, I had to go to my trailer. I was so
hard that I had to get myself o , otherwise I would have
gone back inside and kissed you again."
I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I very much liked that lipstick you were wearing today. I
like the lipstick you're wearing now, too."
"What were you imagining that involved my lipstick?"
 He leans in again, another whisper in my ear. "How
amazing it would look if your lipstick were smudged all over
my hard cock. Your lips be wrapped around it."
I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears and between my
legs as he leans back, casually swirling his drink before
taking a sip. God, I want that. I haven't been able to explore
him again. Not the way I want to. I want to feel every part of
him until I have him memorized just as well as I did ten
years ago. That includes having his cock between my lips, in
my mouth, down my throat. I'm blushing again, and Peter is
grinning because he saw the way I just squirmed in my seat.
"PETER HOLLEMAN!" Clay Markham calls from across
the room. He's moving across the dance floor, and I can see
from here that he's monumentally drunk. Peter slips his
hand away from mine with a quick smile. So it begins.
"Mr. Markham," Peter says as Clay reaches the table and
slides in next to me, tossing an arm around my shoulder.
"You know, when I cast you I knew you were good. But
Amber here told me that you delivered, and she was right.
You're a very talented young man. Gonna go places!"
Peter chuckles, raising his glass to Clay. "Thank you very
much."
"This one too," he says, pulling me close enough that I
can smell the tequila on his breath. "She's gonna go places
too, as long as she's careful! This is going to do big things
for her. Sexy too."
I laugh o his remarks and pull away. Clay is always flirty
and overly touchy and complimentary when he's drunk.
Tonight is the first night that's felt a bit weird. Under the
table, Peter's hand lands on my thigh, both a reassuring
gesture and one that makes me realize how close his fingers
are to my pussy. "Amber is very talented,” he says, “and it
has nothing to do with her being sexy. Though she is."
 "Oh, of course!" Clay says loudly. "But yes, she is. One
can be sexy and talented at the same time. Just like me. Just
like you, Peter Holleman." Everybody laughs. "Someday,"
Clay continues, "I'll get to direct you, Peter Holleman. It will
be great. We'll be great."
Peter nods. "It will be an honor."
"You bet your sweet, tight ass it will."
And then he's lurching back onto the dance floor,
accepted by a bunch of smiling people, and he dances with
all of them.
"Working with him must have been an adventure."
"It certainly wasn't boring," I say, knocking back the rest
of my drink in one go.
His hand rubs my thigh again and I'm thinking about
other, dirtier things. "Are you okay? He was getting close."
"Yeah, I'm fine. He's like that when he's drunk. He's
never so much as mentioned the fact that I'm sexy when he's
sober."
Peter frowns. "That doesn't make it okay."
"There's not really a good time to bring it up." He still
doesn't look happy, but he nods. I lean forward so that this
time I'm the one whispering in his ear. "But I like that you're
protective of me."
"I am," he says. "From everyone and everything." And
then under his breath, “Especially from him.”
I look up and see Michael almost at our table. “What?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Michael smiles at us as he steps up to the table. “My two
stars.”
I haven’t interacted with Michael much, but he strikes me
as a typical Hollywood agent: A little slimy, but in a way that
gets the job done. But I don’t like that smile.
Peter smiles easily. “Hello, Michael.”
 I nod to him. He slides into the booth, but thankfully not
nearly as close as Clay did. “Michael said he’d mentioned our
idea to you.”
“He did. I’m definitely interested. I like working with
Peter. Are you thinking that it will be a formal agreement?”
“Right now we’re just floating an idea. Does a creative
partnership feel like something that would be beneficial to
both of you?”
“I think it could be good. There’s a lot of trust that goes
into creating something, and the better you know someone,
the faster you can get past the awkwardness and into making
something that’s really good.”
“I agree,” Peter says.
“Excellent,” Michael says, “In that case—”
“That said,” Peter interrupts, “there will have to be some
caveats.”
“Of course.” Michael looks a little mi ed, like he’s
o ended that Peter would interrupt him to say that, but he
recovers well. “What would they be?”
“The entire idea is for us to find projects for us to work
on and both creatively fulfilled, but all projects have to be
mutually agreed upon by both Amber and me. There won’t be
any penalties if either one of us decides to do a project
individually, and finally, if either of us think that the
partnership isn’t working, there won’t be any penalties for
dissolving it.”
Michael narrows his eyes, and I see his jaw tighten. “If
those are the caveats, then it might be better to have a verbal
agreement.”
I tilt my head. “Why?”
He matches my stare. “If you both can do whatever you
want, then what’s the point? The goal of this was to create a
combined brand for the two of you, but if neither of you want
that, it’s a moot point.”
 “Hold on,” Peter says, holding up a hand. “I think it’s
okay to create a partnership and a reputation for working
together without taking away both of our options.”
“I agree,” I say. “I would love to collaborate, but I don’t
want to take away the possibility of working on a project that
I love that Peter isn’t right for. And the same for him. I
would never want to take a part away from him because I’m
not the right person or don’t have enough clout to direct a
project.” I internally shake my head. If I made that bargain,
I’d be cutting Peter o from more than half of the parts he
could get.
Michael sighs. "Well then, we'll definitely stick to a verbal
agreement."
I glance over at Peter, who looks back at me with a
stunned look on his face. "Michael, this is the best interest of
both of us, and it was your idea. You seem unhappy."
"I was envisioning you two heading an empire of movies
together, not just working together whenever you damn well
please."
I see the shock roll through Peter, and then the way he
goes still and cold. "How much have you had to drink
tonight?" he asks pointedly.
"Clearly not enough," Michael says, knocking back the
rest of whatever is in his glass and motioning to a nearby
waitress to bring him another.
"Yeah," Peter says, "You have. Michael, do me a favor?
Fuck o until you're sober. I'll call you tomorrow."
Michael laughs darkly and shakes his head. "You think
you can talk to me like that? I made you."
"Okay." Peter takes my hand and guides me out of the
booth. "You stay right there, we'll be right back."
We're halfway through the crowd before I can get myself
together enough to ask, "What the hell is going on?"
 "He doesn't look like it, but he's trashed," Peter says,
voice flat. "I don't think I've ever been around him when
he's been drunk. Only tipsy, if that. He needs to go home,
and like hell was I going to leave you with him while I get
security."
In the chaos of the crowd, I weave our fingers together.
"Thank you."
We make it to the bar, and Peter explains what's
happening with Michael. The bartender clearly knows who
Peter is, and within minutes we watch as two very large
security guys approach Michael and escort him out of the
bar. I thought he might fight it, but he goes quietly, though
that might have something to do with the firm hands that
they each have on his shoulders.
"That was...really weird," I say.
The bartender deposits two more of our drinks in front of
us and I take a long, delicious sip of the purple one. I'm
definitely starting to feel it now, but I'm not so drunk that I
don't think Michael is a fucking creep, and before I know it,
I'm saying that out loud.
"Yeah," Peter says. "I'm going to talk to him. He's been
acting strange recently, and not a kind of strange I'm
comfortable with."
"What were you going to tell me later?"
He nods. "Yeah, ever since the first day on set, Michael
has been on this tear, convinced that I was going to sleep
with you. It doesn't matter that it was true. He was really
overly interested in our past, and I made it crystal fucking
clear that our personal history was none of his business. But
he hasn't let it go. I thought when he brought up the
partnership that he had kind of...gotten his shit together.
Clearly not."
"I'm sorry."
 Peter waves a hand. "It's fine. I'll talk to him when he's
not six martinis in and make sure we're on the same page. If
not...I'll figure it out."
"Yeah, but it still sucks."
He smiles. "Yeah, it still sucks.”
My head feels pleasantly light, and I think about when I
went into the bathroom earlier, what I heard. I'm also
thinking about Peter's hand on my thigh and how I want his
hands other places. I need him, and even though I need to be
careful, I don't think I want to wait until we get to my house.
"You remember when you got here and I was bright red?" I
ask him, aware that the first drink is hitting me all at once in
a way that I really like.
"I do remember that," he says, leaning closer. I notice he
keeps his body just inches from mine, like he's leaning closer
just to hear me speak. We both know that it's more than that.
This is kind of exciting. Like we have a secret from the world.
A secret identity, but sexy. A sexy identity.
"I went into the bathroom to fix my lipstick, and there
were people in the stalls."
Peter raises an eyebrow. "That is usually how a bathroom
works."
I laugh. "Not like that. There were two people in one stall,
and they were having sex. Can you imagine that?"
Peter's eyes go dark. "Yes. I'm imagining that right now."
"I was hoping that you would say that."
"Really?" His smile is slow and seductive, and I feel it
shiver through me, making me wetter than I already was.
"Really," I say. Taking my drink, I finish it in one long
sip, and lean into him. "I'm going to go to the bathroom.
Meet me there. Soon. But not so soon that people notice."
Peter doesn't take his eyes o me as I slip o the bar
stool and grab my clutch. I give him a sexy look over my
shoulder as I slip into the crowd of people, and I can feel the
intensity of his gaze from here. It's hot and hungry and I'm
vibrating with the energy he's sending me. God, I want him.
The bathroom mu es the sound of the pounding music,
and I check under the stall doors before going into the
handicap stall. I hang my bag on the back of the door and
lean against the wall, swaying with the mu ed beat. I don’t
lock the stall. Not until I hear the door open and the sound of
footsteps. Peter comes into the stall and I lock it behind him
seconds before he has me pressed up against the door and is
kissing me.
Everything is sheer heat. It’s not restrained like the kiss
we had this morning. We’re both a little drunk, a little
sloppy, and both starving for each other. It’s been three days
without him touching me and I need him everywhere.
I open my mouth underneath his, and his tongue strokes
across mine. I swear I feel it on my clit. I’m shivering and I
wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. His arms
are on my back leaving trails of fire on my skin.
Peter’s lips move to my neck, and I moan. “God.”
“Yes?”
I giggle, the sound echoing around the bathroom. “More,
please.” But then I see him, and I laugh harder.
“What?”
“You’re going to have to wipe your mouth. My lipstick is
all over you.”
Peter goes still, and his fingers tighten on my skin. I
remember what he told me earlier about smudged lipstick,
and a sheer wave of desire goes through me. “Oh.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, voice hoarse.
“I know,” I say, as I’m getting on my knees. My fingers
are on his belt and I flip us around so he’s leaning against
the door now. I can feel how hard he is through his jeans,
and I stroke him, and he makes a sound I don’t think I’ve
ever heard before—dark and desperate and erotic. And I
haven’t even touched his skin yet.
Tugging on his belt, I slip his pants down until his cock
springs free, huge and hard, the tip glistening so close. I look
up at Peter, and he has his hands spread, grabbing the top of
the stall and his knuckles are white. He’s keeping himself
still, so still, waiting for my next move. I give him a big smile
and press my lips to his skin, purposely sliding my lips
across it and leaving a mark. One side and then the other, so
there are purple smudges on his shaft.
It’s hotter than I thought it would be. I kiss the tip of his
cock too, leaving a purple set of lips, and smile again. “Is
this what you imagined?”
All I get is a groan, and I laugh as I take him into my
mouth. He’s thick and hard in my mouth and he feels so
familiar and so di erent. Definitely bigger than the last time
I did this, but the memories come sliding back, and my body
remembers what he likes.
I slowly take more of him and more of him until he’s
almost completely in my mouth, because I’ve learned some
new tricks too.
"Jesus, Amber," Peter says, voice strained and raw.
I only hum in response, and that gets me another groan. I
pull back, sucking my way back to the tip, because I know
that he loves that, and I love the feeling of his skin on my
lips. But I plunge down again before I release him, setting a
rhythm of fast down, slow back, listening to the way Peter
gasps as he hits the back of my throat.
I'm great at blowjobs, but I want more. I've never been a
good at deep-throating a cock, but I'm just drunk enough
that I don't care. The next time I dive down onto his cock, I
don't stop. I move up and down, angling myself so that he
slips down into my throat, and suddenly Peter's hands are in
my hair and he's cursing under his breath as he holds on. His
hips are moving, thrusting, but slowly, gently, and I know
that he's trying to hold himself back. I release him, hauling
in a breath, and I look up. "You can," I say. "You can fuck my
mouth."
He pulls me to my feet with a growl and I'm against the
door again, his mouth on my skin. "I'm going to do that. But
I'm going to do that when I can take my time and enjoy it.
And you're going to enjoy it too," he says in a tone that has
me dripping. "But I haven't touched you in three days and
I'm going to fuck you now. And then I'm going to take you
home and fuck you again."
I can't breathe, gasping as he licks down my throat,
nipping at my skin and pushes my dress aside so he can
touch my breasts, dipping his mouth to taste me and holding
me still until my nipples are hard and pebbled under his
tongue. I push my hips into him. "I thought you were going
to fuck me."
He grins, "I didn't say I couldn't have a little fun." He
runs his tongue across my nipple one more time, slowly, his
eyes meeting mine, and I shiver. "Turn around," he says,
and I do.
I grab onto the top of the stall, and Peter flips up my skirt,
running his hands over my ass. I'm not wearing anything but
a thong, but I wish I hadn't worn anything at all. His fingers
dip inside my panties and I moan because his fingers slip
across my entrance and my clit because I'm so wet. There's a
crinkle of a condom, and Peter pulls my hips back towards
him, so my arms are stretched to keep my balance and he
pushes in, barely giving me time to breathe.
"Oh shit," I say, because even though it's only been three
days it feels like a lifetime and I feel like it's perfect. I'm
fucking Peter Holleman in a bathroom stall and it's the best
moment of my life. And he is fucking me, thrusting hard and
fast and deep and oh god it feels so good. Slick friction,
perfect, pleasure rising, I close my eyes and feel, letting him
push me closer to the door until I'm trapped between him
and it, and I can't move and I don't want to move, and now
I'm that girl saying yes yes yes while the bathroom is
echoing with the sounds of sex.
And that's when Peter's hand slips into my panties again,
and he circles my clit with his fingers. I'm so wet that he
keeps slipping, pressing harder, and every touch takes me
higher, makes me wetter. Suddenly my orgasm is rising like
a wave out of nowhere, zero-to-sixty and I'm moaning, and
I can barely find the words in my brain to tell him that I'm
there. "Please," I say. "I'm close."
"Me too."
His other arm wraps around my waist while he teases me,
holding me against him while he fucks me, and then
suddenly I'm coming, and it feels like the world goes white. I
throw my head back, my cry echoing o the walls, and I’m
shaking while pleasure blazes through me, bright and
perfect and sizzling and gone all too fast. And seconds later
Peter's coming too, groaning into my neck. "God, yes,
Amber."
He doesn't let me go, and we come to stillness with his
fingers still on my clit and his cock still buried to the hilt.
"That was..."
"Amazing," he finishes for me.
"I don't want to move."
The dark chuckle that comes from him leaves shivers on
my skin. “There’s more where that came from, we just have
to get out of here.”
We’re still entwined, and I’m very aware of how much
he’s filling me up. “Any more awkward conversations we
have to have before we can leave?”
He laughs again. “No, I think we’re in the clear.”
“Good.”
 Slipping out of me, he gets another moan, and my arousal
flares, because I want more. “Greedy?” he asks, mouth on
my skin again.
“Yes,” I say, fixing my dress. “Yes. And fast.”
“Okay, I’ll get the car.”
I grab my bag from the hook o the door. “You need to
wipe your mouth, and I need to fix my lipstick. But you leave
first, and I’ll follow.”
“Good,” he says, but before I leave the stall he grabs me
around the waist again and whispers in my ear. “I’m very
happy we made up.”
“I want to make up more very quickly, so let’s get out of
here.”
Peter laughs. “As you wish.”
He grabs a paper towel and quickly scrubs the signs of my
lips on his away, and for the second time tonight I redo my
lipstick, fixing the smudges on my skin and re-applying.
I kind of like the smudged look, if only because right now
I like that I look mussed and tousled and like I just had sex. If
it weren’t you know…for my career, I’d leave it and wear it
proudly. I’m not sure that my sober self would agree, but I
don’t care.
When my lipstick is in the best shape I can get it, I toss
my hair a couple times and leave the bathroom. I nearly run
into Clay who’s dancing on the edge of the crowd. He smiles
at me, and I hope he didn’t see Peter exit the bathroom only
minutes before. I should be worried about that, or ashamed
that I just had sex in a bathroom, but I’m not.
I give him a wave and a smile and weave my way through
the crowd towards the door. I make it through the restaurant
and onto the street just as the car Peter called is pulling up—
neither of us are in any shape to drive. He opens the door and
helps me inside, and I’m waiting for him to get in, but he
doesn’t. He whispers. “Give him my address,” and I
understand. There are paparazzi here, and we can’t be seen
getting into a car together drunk. This photo is just him
putting me into a cab, and it will never make the papers.
I nod, “I’ll see you soon.”
Peter shuts the door, and I give the driver his address,
practically counting down the seconds until I get there.
13
 PETER
PAST

Restaurant work is the same everywhere. Customers want

the same kind of perfect service, your cheeks still ache from
smiling, and it's just as utterly exhausting, even though this
restaurant is in L.A. Somehow I thought that it might be
di erent here, since this is the city of Angels and what I've
wanted forever, I imagined being a waiter would be less of a
slog. But it's okay, because I'm here. Half of my tiny, crappy,
apartment is still in boxes and I have basically no money and
no idea what I'm doing, but I'm here.
It was actually easier to move after my mom robbed me. I
had way less stu to move, and after that I couldn't stay.
Aunt Lily was awesome and reached out to friends across the
country to get me places to stay while I drove from coast to
coast, everything I owned shoved into my car. She even gave
me some money for the trip, though I told her that she didn't
have to do that.
I found an apartment online and I slept for fifteen hours
once I crashed there. But once I woke up, I started looking
for jobs. If there's one thing I know, it's that people want
attractive waiters and I'm not stupid—I know I'm not ugly.
So that's why I'm waiting on tables right now, dead on my
feet but with more tip money in my pocket than I ever had in
Massachusetts. Even with the di erence in cost of living, I'll
be able to feed myself for more than a week just on the tips.
That's good.
Walking back into the kitchen, I submit an order slip to
the chef, and my manager comes out of her o ce and points.
"You."
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever tended bar?"
I shake my head. "No, I haven't."
"You want to learn?"
The pay for bartenders is way better, and the tips too, I
imagine. "Sure."
"Great," she says. "Come here."
I follow her into her o ce and she hands me some
paperwork. "It's dumb but you have to fill out the papers
again for a di erent position. What's your name again?"
"Peter."
She calls out of her o ce door. "Jackson, cover Peter's
tables for a few minutes." There's a mu ed response while I
start filling out my information and my new address. "One of
my bartenders just quit. I need a new one fast."
"Are you sure about me?" I ask, kicking myself for doing
so. "There are people higher than I am, who probably have
more experience."
"Most of my servers have been here long enough to like
what they're doing. We get a lot of regulars here, and they
know what to do to get good tips with those people. Besides,
it’s good to have both male and female bartenders. Joan is
great, she'll get your ass into shape, and a lot of women
won't notice that their drink isn't perfect as long as you
serve it with a smile on that pretty face."
I laugh. "So you're just using me for my body?"
"Basically," she smirks. "But you also said you'd prefer to
work at night so you can go to auditions during the day. This
works better for that."
"Thanks."
"No problem," she says. "Just don't suck, okay?"
"I'll do my best not to." I hand the papers back to her.
She flips through them to make sure that I didn't miss
anything. "Don't take any more tables, and when you're
done, go see Joan. She'll get you started with training so
you're not completely drowning tomorrow."
"Will do."
"Oh, and Peter," she says as I stand and head for the
door, "welcome to L.A."
"Thanks," I give her the kind of smile she hopes to see
from me as a bartender and she laughs.
I wasn't expecting this, but it's great. This will work out
way better for me and my schedule, and I think bartending
will be fun. You're still serving, but there's less of a sense of
obligation. I won't be groveling for tips the way you have to
when waiting on a single table. It's better because people
come to you, tell you what they want, and for the most part,
that's the end of the transaction.
This isn't the kind of place they show in movies where the
hero or heroine who's down on their luck comes in to spill
their problems to the understanding bartender. No, this is an
upscale place where the rich and sometimes the famous
come to mingle. No one would dare shed a tear at the bar for
fear that someone else would see and it would get around.
This is going to be perfect.
I finish all my tables and head to the back, where I know
Joan is doing her monthly inventory of bar supplies and
deciding what to order. She's classically pretty, tall with dark
hair, and a vintage smile that makes drinks taste better and
wallets open. She waves me toward her when she hears the
door open. "So you're the newbie."
"Seems like I am."
 "Well, sit," she says, tossing a clipboard to me. "It's
easier to do this with two people when I can just say things
and you write them down instead of me having to do both.
Hell of a lot faster too."
"Okay."
And that's it for a while. I follow the pattern she's used on
the form and write down what she tells me, and it's only a
half-hour before the inventory is done completely. "When's
your first shift with me?"
"Tomorrow."
"Good. Go home and google the basic drinks and
memorize the recipes. Come in early and I'll test you on
some of them and make corrections. Trust me, neither you
or I have the time to just stand together while I spit out
recipes that are on the internet. And you're an actor. I'm sure
that memorizing shit doesn't take that much time for you."
I laugh. "You're right."
"Of course I am. And don't wear what you're wearing,
wear something sexier."
"You have something in mind?"
She rolls her eyes but she smiles. "No. I'm not going to
pick out your clothes for you, newbie. Just try something that
fits the dress code and do some testing. Keep wearing what
gets you tips, and don't be squeamish about it."
"Squeamish?" I hand her the clipboard so she can check
my work.
"High and mighty. Prudish. Too good for it."
I internally pause, but I just say. "Okay. I'll see you
tomorrow.”
Grabbing my stu from my locker, I head out to my car. I
can see what she means, I can imagine a lot of people new to
L.A. would be a bit nervous about so blatantly being asked to
use their body like that. It’s been less than an hour and I’ve
basically been told twice that I need to be sexy in order to get
people to pay me more. I can’t imagine what kind of stu
gets said to female service workers.
I wonder what Amber would do—
I close o the thought as soon as I have it. I’m here, and
we’re not together. I need to stop pretending that we are.
Even if this was our dream, it can’t be anymore. Now it’s just
my dream.
Driving across town, I roll down my windows and feel the
warm breeze coming o the Pacific. This sure beats the cold
of the east coast any day. Hands down. It’s like coming here
after so long, finally I feel like I belong somewhere. The city
sings to me in a way that no other place has, and I love it.
There’s a relief to being here, an easing of tension that I
never noticed I held.
Even as I flop onto my mattress that doesn’t have a bed
frame and is surrounded by boxes, I’m smiling. I finally
made it.
14
 PETER
PRESENT

I get into my own cab and pull out my phone, and I text
Amber the code to my door so she’s not standing on the
steps of my house until I get there. But the whole ride, I can’t
seem to sit still. My leg is bouncing up and down, and even
the driver seems to notice how fidgety I am. He keeps
glancing back at me in the mirror.
Now that Amber and I are together, I don’t want to be
separate. Every second that she’s not with me feels like I’m
burning. It could be because I’m a little drunk. Possibly that.
I’m a little drunk on her and the sex that we just had and the
sex that we’re about to have. It was amazing and it didn’t
even scratch the surface.
I let my head fall back against the seat, reliving every
moment of that. I’m hard again just thinking about it. And
thinking about what we might do now. Every fantasy I’ve
had about Amber spirals out in my head, and I want to tell
her every single one and see how she feels about them. And I
want her to tell me her fantasies too, so I can drive her wild.
We need to be more careful. Having sex in the bathroom
probably wasn’t the smartest move since we’re trying to
keep this secret, but I can’t bring myself to care enough to be
worried. But from now on, I promise to be more careful.
Houses only. Or maybe my trailer.
Yes. My trailer. The thought of fucking Amber in my
trailer with the whole crew right outside directs the
remaining blood in my body to my cock and I have to grit my
teeth to keep from groaning. I glance outside, almost there.
Almost there.
My phone screen lights up, and Amber’s texted that she’s
there. Inside. Waiting. Seconds later there’s a picture of her
dress on the floor of my entryway, and I have to pick my jaw
up o the floor of the car.

Almost there.

She sends a winking face back.

I start the transaction to pay the driver as we’re pulling
into my driveway, so I can leave the car faster. “Thanks,” I
call to him as I slam the door, taking the steps to my house
three at a time. I only pause for a second to make sure the
driver actually drives away before entering my code and
going inside. And there on the floor is Amber’s dress. A little
farther into the hall are both of her shoes, and just peeking
out from around the corner, her thong is on the floor.
Fuck.
I kick o my shoes and undress on my way to the
bedroom, my hand already stroking my cock as I walk in to
find her naked and waiting. She’s facing away from me,
glancing over her shoulder at me, wiggling her ass.
“You’re evil,” I say with a grin.
“I couldn’t have you forgetting me on the way home.”
Striding over to the bed, I grab her foot and pull her to
me, and her giggle lights me up inside. “I could never forget
you, Amber.”
I’m over her now, and I see her face sober for a moment.
“I could never forget you either.”
I kiss her, and I hope that that sexy purple lipstick gets
everywhere on me. It’s still on my cock, and I like it. I can
practically still feel her tongue on me. Now that we’re here,
things have to slow down. I still have that urgency to fall fast
and hard into each other, but I can resist it. Take my time. “I
have one problem,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“I have so many things that I want to do to you, that I
can’t decide.”
She squirms underneath me, and for a few seconds I can’t
even think. “I can think of a few things that would solve that
problem,” she says, reaching down to touch me. Her fingers
bring my focus straight downwards, and just the barest
brush of them feels amazing.
“Tell me what you want,” I say.
“You.” It’s an automatic answer, too fast to not be true.
“More than that,” I say. “Give me a fantasy.”
Amber freezes, blushes. “I don’t have any.”
I lean down to kiss her neck. “I don’t believe you.”
“Really,” she says, “I don’t.”
Pulling back, I left myself fall onto the bed beside her.
“Are you embarrassed?” I ask, tugging on her hip so she
turns on her side towards me and we’re pressed up against
one another.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. “Because
fantasies are fantasy. They’re not real. They’re just there to
get you o , not to act out.”
“Whoever told you that is a goddamn liar,” I say, taking
her mouth in a kiss, and I don’t stop until she’s breathless
and her eyes stay closed when I pull back. “I told you that I
wanted your lipstick on me and you made it happen. Isn’t
that a fantasy?”
“I guess so.”
"Just tell me one," I say. "Not all of them. Just one. For
now."
And later I might ask why it's so hard for her in the first
place, but right now I'm watching her watch me, see the way
she wets her lips with her tongue and the way she leans
closer. "It's going to sound weird," she says.
"I don't care."
She swallows. "I want," another hesitation, "for you not
to care about what I want." I feel my eyebrows rise in shock
that I'm not sure I'm in control of. Amber looks down but
keeps going. "I mean, I don't want to think or make
decisions, because I do that all day. I want you to fuck me the
way that you want to. What you want to do that makes you
feel good, and I know that I'll feel good too. If there's
something I don't want I tell you, but I don't want to think. I
know it's a weird fantasy, and I'm not sure it's a fantasy, and
I'm still pretty drunk, but that's what I want."
I stroke my hand down her side. "I don't think that's
weird at all."
She looks up at me, eyes wide. "You don't?"
"No," I say, kissing her softly, "because your fantasy is to
have someone take care of you."
"It's more than that," she says, "It's—"
"I know it's more, but that's part of it. And you don't have
to think anymore." I kiss her again, long, and slow, and
deep, and when I pull away her eyes are glazed with lust. If
she wants me to take control, I will happily do that. And if
she doesn't want me to care about what she wants, I'm not
sure I can discard that entirely, but I can pretend. "And now
you're going to finish what you started in the bathroom."
 I move away from her, pulling her with me so that her
head is at the edge of the bed and her eyes are wide but she
doesn't look scared or nervous. She looks happy. "Open," I
say, touching my cock to her lips.
She does, and I slide inside. God, her mouth is heaven.
Back at Fantasia she drove me to the brink with her mouth,
but if I'm controlling the pace, I can make it last. And I plan
on making it last. Amber's red hair is cascading o the bed,
and looking down, watching my cock disappear between her
lips, I swear I get harder. I didn't even think that it was
possible at this point.
Amber shocked me when she took me in her throat, and I
want that. I want to see my cock bulge in her throat, and I
will. But slowly. I fuck her mouth in smooth, short thrusts,
making sure she has time to breathe before I move deeper.
And deeper still. Even before I get to her throat she's taking
most of me, and when her tongue peeks out from between
her lips as she's taking me down I almost lose control.
"Take a deep breath," I tell her, and she does, and I slide
all the way in. Into the slight resistance of her throat and
holy fucking god that feels good. I push further and force my
eyes open because I need to see. And there it is, a distinctive
bulb in her throat that's the head of my cock.
I pull back for her to breathe and then push in again,
watch myself appear. Watch myself push deeper, and watch
the rhythm I set to fucking her mouth. It feels so good, and
Amber hasn't hesitated once. "Amber," I say as I push down
again, "seeing myself in your throat might be the hottest
goddamn thing I've ever seen," I tell her.
She moans around my cock and I almost lose it, but not
yet. I'm getting close. To the point where I'm clenching my
jaw and forcing myself not to come, but I'm not going to
come yet. I push in one more time, and there. Amber's lips
are pressed against my stomach, my cock fully in her throat.
It's so fucking hot, and then I fuck her throat. Now that I'm
all the way in, this is what I want. I pull back and thrust
deep, never quite leaving her throat, only pulling back when
she needs to breathe, but then I'm there again, sliding to the
hilt with every smooth thrust and riding the high of pleasure
that's just before an orgasm.
Amber gasps for air, but opens her mouth without
question, and just when I'm deepest in her throat, she
swallows. Lightning flashes across my vision as the feeling
sends me over the edge, and I'm blind and panting, cock
spasming in her throat as I come. I drive into her throat
harder, pushing out every bit of pleasure that punches
through me until it's gone and I pull back, spent.
"Holy shit," I say, and Amber smiles.
I help her turn around, and I don't tell her what I'm going
to do, but I'm on my knees in front of her and I push her
back to lie on the bed and part her legs. She’s like a feast in
front of me. "Peter," she says, and I can hear the hesitation.
She told me not to care about her needs, so I put on my most
commanding character and crawl up until our faces are so
close I can feel her breath. "You told me to do what I want,
and I am. Right now you're mine to taste, and I'm going to.
Maybe I'll make you come, maybe I won't. But this isn't your
choice."
She closes her eyes and I see her shiver. Interesting. I file
the reaction away for later, because there's some things I
want to think about, but I'm not about to stop in the middle
of sex for it. I drag my tongue down between her breasts and
across her stomach until I'm in front of her pussy again, and
I can see it glistening. I don't hesitate, putting my full mouth
on her and sucking deep. Amber arches o the bed, suddenly
moaning, and I smile into her pussy. She's so aroused that I
probably could have made her come by just blowing on her
clit. But what she doesn't know is that when I told her that I
might make her come, I'd already made the decision that I
won't.
I want her to be writhing in pleasurable agony before she
comes, and when she does, I'm going to be buried deep
inside her. For these few, brief moments, I don't care about
what she wants, and I'm going to make it happen. I lick
across her skin, savoring the sweet and deep taste of her
arousal as she moves under me, lifting her hips to try to
angle herself better against my mouth. "No," I say, laying a
hand across her stomach, and pinning her down. She stops
moving, and I can feel the way her breath changes under my
hand, speeding up. There's a burst of wetness in my mouth,
and I drink her down. Just me telling her no made her wet.
I work my tongue on her clit in slow, steady strokes, and I
can feel her tensing, getting ready, and just before she goes
over the peak, I pull back. Amber gasps in frustration and her
head pops up, looking down at me. I just smile, instead using
my hands to soothe down her sides and stomach and across
her thighs, going nowhere close enough to her pussy to send
her over. Amber opens her mouth, and I can see it happen.
She's going to ask why I stopped, why I don't keep going,
and the realization of her own request hits her. She
understands that if I don't care about what she wants, then I
don't care if she comes. "Oh," she says. "Wow."
Her head falls back, and I follow her again so I can see her
eyes. I settle myself so she can feel my cock between her legs
but I'm doing nothing with it to stimulate her, and it's
driving her mad. "Wow?"
She's blushing and raising her hands to cover her face,
but I catch them, pin them to the bed beside her so that she
can't hide. "What's going on?"
"It's di erent than I imagined," she says.
"Bad di erent?"
Her blush tells me all I need to know about that.
 I laugh, and press a kiss to the side of her neck that she
leans into. "This is what you wanted, right? To not think? To
not choose?"
"Yes," her voice is barely a whisper.
"Then I'm choosing to not let you come until I want you
to."
Her eyes dilate and I can tell the thought excites her. "Are
you going to let me come tonight?"
"Yes," I say, but I like the thought of driving her crazy for
days. "But maybe not next time. We'll see."
She tests her hands, pushing on mine to see if I'll release
her. I don't. But she doesn't fight, she seems to relax into it,
and I kiss her. We can taste each other, and it makes me fully
hard again. I want to be inside her, but I'm not going to rush
this.
I ease back down her body, and this time I use my fingers,
dipping inside and stroking across her G-spot with them
until I'm fucking her with my hand and she's begging me to
go faster and do more. I don't. I move at a steady pace that's
fast enough to make her shake but not fast enough to give
her what she needs. Amber's body is starting to glisten with
sweat, and God, I want to lick it all o her. I think about
dragging her into the shower and washing her from head to
toe, and that's something we're going to do, too. Maybe in
the morning.
Amber's pussy clenches around my fingers, and she cries
out as I pull them back, letting her orgasm collapse into
nothing. She groans, "Why?"
"Because I don't care about what you want," I say.
I can feel her shiver. For a few minutes I just touch her,
massaging her until she relaxes and all that orgasmic
tension is gone. And then I'm on her again. Mouth and
fingers both this time, I consume her. I suck her clit between
my teeth and graze it while I'm stroking her inside, and
she's suddenly there again. So fast and so close that I almost
don't pull away in time. She screams, "Peter, please."
I grab a condom from my drawer and slip it on. I'm doing
what she asked, but I'm also not a monster. Well, maybe I
am a little, because I have an idea. Sliding into her, I groan at
the way she grips my cock, pussy clenching down like it's
desperate to be fucked, and I imagine that it is at this point.
"How badly do you want to come right now?"
She grabs at me, hands landing on my arms, desperate,
fingers digging into my skin in a way I like. "So badly. How
badly is a million badly?"
"I'm going to fuck you," I say, "and you're going to count
down from sixty. Out loud. You can come when you reach
zero."
She moans, and it turns into a whine but she doesn't
protest, just closes her eyes, leaning back on the bed, and I
like this. In the last ten years I've had a few partners who
were a little kinky, but this is Amber. I like playing with her.
I like knowing that this is what she wants, and even though
she hates how much she wants to come, she likes that I'm
telling her not to.
I thrust my hips a little deeper, and she gasps. "Count," I
say to her, because I'm not going to hold back. I fuck her.
Hard. Every ounce of worry and frustration I've had over the
last few days, every fantasy and every need. Every thought of
how badly I wanted her I put into fucking her. She's counting
in my ear, breathless and desperate and trying to count but
stopping and not able to continue because I'm going too fast,
too hard, and I laugh. "The slower you count," I say, "the
longer until you can come." She starts again. Forty, thirty-
five. Twenty-five. I let myself give in to my pleasure, not
holding back and rolling my hips so that the friction on my
cock drives me higher. Amber is still counting. Fifteen. Ten.
 I drive home, plunging into her with a speed I didn't
know I had, and I let go, the world exploding as she hits zero.
Amber screams, pussy clamping down around me as her
orgasm rips through her and mine is there too. It's like
flying through a galaxy of exploding stars, and I don't stop
fucking because it feels too good to stop, and Amber is
shaking underneath me with hers, holding onto me for dear
life.
A final burst of pleasure flashes behind my eyes and my
head clears. Amber is still feeling the aftershocks of her
orgasm, and every move I make with my cock makes her
moan. I could probably make her come again. And I want to,
so I do.
Reaching between us, I press my thumb on her clit,
rolling it in circles, and she moans, "Please. please."
"Yes."
I move my thumb faster and faster, circling until I see her
go tense, this orgasm fast and quiet, but her eyes close and
her back arches and I know it feels just as good. I kiss her
briefly before slipping out of her to get rid of the condom
and quickly scrub the lipstick o my cock before climbing
into bed with her again, pulling her up to the head of the bed
beside me and covering us both with a blanket. She makes
herself comfortable draped across my chest.
"That was a good fantasy," I say, laughing.
"Yeah." Her voice is hoarse, and I can't help smiling. I
don't know any man in the world who wouldn't feel pride at
making his woman scream so much they lose their voice.
That might be my next goal. We'll see.
I run my fingers through her hair and she sighs. It doesn't
feel right to speak above a whisper. "Can I ask you
something?"
"Yeah," she says, still quiet.
"Why are you embarrassed by your fantasies."
 The little I can see of her face turns pink. "Because."
"That's not a real reason."
She looks up at me, and makes a face. "It's not so
di erent from being a female director. People automatically
assumes that sexual fantasies are for men. Including most
men. We're there to be fantasies, not to have fantasies."
I roll us over so she's on her back and I can see all of her
face, study her. I'm never going to get tired of looking at her
face. "Let me guess, you shared a fantasy with someone and
they didn't like it."
"Something like that," she says, avoiding my eyes. "They
laughed."
Anger surges through me, hard and fast, but that's not
what Amber needs. "I'm never going to laugh at you," I say,
adding a smile. "Well, not about this. I never knew that you
were kinky."
"I'm not."
"It's okay if you are," I say quickly. "I don't mind."
She shakes her head. "I'm not kinky."
"So you just like me telling you what to do?"
Amber bites her lip and blushes again. But this makes
sense. Even in high school, Amber was calmest when I
helped her, when I was physically on top of her like a
thunder blanket, and inside her so she was distracted. The
seeds were always there even if I didn't notice them. "It's
okay," I say softly in her ear. "Everybody has the stu they
like, and there's nothing wrong with that."
She reaches out to me, stroking her hand down my arm.
"It's just weird and embarrassing."
"Why?"
"Because I've worked hard to be where I am, and I find it
strange that you telling me that I'm not allowed to do
something turns me on."
I give her a slow smile. "It turns me on too."
 "But it shouldn't. I shouldn't need it."
Tucking her closer in to me, I kiss her shoulder. "I said it
before, even if you don't agree with it. You're a director.
Every day you're in charge and you're making decisions
about things from the time you walk onto the lot until the
time you walk o it. And sometimes even after that. And on
top of that all the stu that's being thrown at you as a
woman in a field full men, it's got to be exhausting. So I
don't find it weird or embarrassing or strange that you want
a space where you don't have to think or make any decisions
and are just allowed to feel."
Amber ducks her head against my shoulder. "I hate it
when you're right."
I laugh, running a hand through her hair again and
stretching it out on the pillow. After a second she pulls her
head back to look at me. "But what about you?"
"What about me?"
She sighs. "You don't need the stress of that. Of making
all those decisions. It seems like a lot of work."
Leaning down, I press my lips to her forehead. "I'm
happy to," I say. "I'm an actor. I spend most of my day
getting instructed. Consulted sometimes, but I'm not exactly
at the place in my career where my fame can dictate
decisions. And even if I didn't spend a lot of time being told
what to do, I would be happy to do this for you."
"But—"
I cut o her words with my lips. "I love you," I say when I
pull away. "I don't need to be in control to enjoy sex, but
don't begin to think that I didn't enjoy that. Thoroughly." I
punctuate my words with a movement of my hips so her
attention is drawn to my cock for a moment. "You worry too
much."
She's looking at me like she wants to protest, and I can
see that this is going against everything that she thinks is
true, even if it's what she wants and needs. "I'll make you a
deal," I say.
"What kind of deal?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're really worried right
now that you're putting too much on me, that it will be a
burden, that I won't like it after a while."
Amber blushes again. "Yeah."
"So let's just try something, because this is still new
enough that we're going to stumble and struggle and try to
make it work. And I don't want to fall into habits that make
neither of us happy and are too hard to change later. Plus, I
think it will make you worry less."
"Okay," I can tell she's still uncomfortable, but she's
listening.
“For the next week, you’ll be in charge at work, I’ll be in
charge during sex, and neither of us will be in charge
otherwise.”
“So…”
“So you don’t have to worry or think about what you want
to do, I will take care of it. And you. I do want to hear more
about your fantasies, but I’m not going to push you, because
we have time. But if this is something that works for us,
we’ll know.”
“I’m not going to crawl on the floor and call you ‘sir,’”
she says.
“I’m not asking you to,” I say, “but I’m telling you that
we’re going to sleep for a while, and in the morning before
both of us have to be at work, I’m going to take you into the
shower and wash every bit of you myself, and then I’m going
to get you o .”
Her breath catches, chest rising and falling faster. “Yeah.
Okay.”
“So you want to try it?”
She nods. “Yes. You’ll be in charge in the bedroom.”
 “Good,” I say, “but I didn’t say the bedroom. I said during
sex. Because I won’t promise that we’ll always be having sex
in a bedroom.” I kiss her before she can blush, rolling us
again so that she’s on top of me. I like the feeling of her
draped across my body. It’s luxurious.
“I have one more thing,” I say, “and I think it’s going to
turn you on.”
“Oh?” she giggles. “More than I am right now?”
“Yes.” I make sure she’s listening to me. “I know we
don’t live together, but if we’re trying this, we’re going to
try it for real. You’re not allowed to come without me. No
going home and thinking about me and touching yourself. If
you’re not with me and you want to come, you have to call
me. Because I’m in charge of that.”
Amber goes so still that for a second I think that she’s not
breathing. And then she’s kissing me and we’re both
laughing and tangled together again in the sheets.
15
 AMBER
PAST

It's perfect. The shabby little apartment that I've got in

lower Manhattan is perfect. It is shabby, but it's supposed to
be. New York is overpriced and crowded and even possibly
saving money on dorms is hard with these prices, but I feel
good about the decision. I was planning on going to college
and being fully independent, and now I can do that.
I flop down on the couch, exhausted. My parents helped
me move in yesterday, and my apartment is still a crazy
mess of boxes and crap everywhere, but it's mine. Now I can
have people over, I won't have to worry about roommates
and awkward shower sharing. Yeah. This was the right
decision.
Opening my phone, I flip to the text message because it's
become a habit. I look in case there's something I missed, in
case it's not really a message saying that the number is out
of service. In case for some weird reason Peter has suddenly
decided to re-activate his number and text me out of the
blue. But looking at it today, I feel tired. Tired of it and the
space it's taking up in my brain.
I close out of it and instead start to organize everything
that I'm going to need for the first day of classes tomorrow.
It's going to be crazy and I’m so excited. I've got a stack of
books as long as my arm, and some extra supplies that I'm
going to pick up in the morning. I haven't got a backpack,
but I'm going to take the risk that film school doesn't
actually require us to bring our books to class and get more
of a feel for it tomorrow.
It's been months since I came here for the interview, but
everything seems like it's moving so fast. I got the letter
saying that I'd been accepted a week after I interviewed,
almost like they'd just waited for me to come in so they
could send out their decision. I sent Mr. Davidson a thank
you card, because I honestly don't know if I would have
gotten in if it weren't for his recommendation. He sent me a
nice text afterward, but he didn't really seem to want to take
credit even if it was his words.
But the week after that, we started looking for
apartments, and then I was singing a lease and it's been full
couple of months of shopping for furniture and dishes and
everything I took for granted in my parents’ house that I
never thought that I was going to need. Now I have to put it
all away, but I feel the deep urge to take a nap.
I've just closed my eyes when my phone buzzes on my
chest. It's my mother.
"How's my college girl?"
"Tired," I say. "I've been unpacking and I was just going
to take a nap."
I can practically hear the frown in her voice. "Don't push
yourself too hard."
"I'm not. All of this is just exhausting."
"Got that right," she laughs.
I sigh, snuggling down further into the couch. "What's
up?"
"Not much," she says. "I was just starting to make dinner
and was thinking about you. Remember, a call a day keeps
the mother away."
 I laugh in spite of myself, because she's said that phrase
to me approximately a thousand times in the last two
months. Five hundred of them possibly in the last week.
"Maybe I'll order my first New York take out," I say.
"I didn't buy you all that kitchen stu for you to just
order take-out the whole time," she scolds, but I can tell
she's not serious.
"Half my kitchen is still in boxes. If I wanted to spend
three hours trying to cook while also trying to dig through
everything to find the cheese grater, I would. But that will
have to wait till everything's unpacked."
She laughs. "Fair enough. But really, I just wanted to
check in and make sure that you were doing okay."
"I'm good. It's going to be good."
"It is," she agrees. "I don't want to keep you. Take your
nap!"
"I will. Love you."
"Love you," she says before the line goes dead.
I'm about to take my first New York nap in my first New
York apartment. I wonder how long it will be before I stop
calling things 'New York.' Probably when I finally start to
feel like I belong here. I'm not sure when that will be, if ever.
But there's one thing I can do.
I open my phone to that same text message and look at it
again. I scroll back through the messages, an archive of
something that's long gone. I've been holding on to this
because it seemed like a memorial almost, of the dream to
move to a city together and help each other with our dreams.
But that's gone now, and I have to make it on my own.
I only hesitate for a second before I delete the text
conversation, and then Peter's number, from my phone. It's
time to start the rest of my life.
16
 AMBER
PRESENT

I wake up to the buzzing of my phone. My body immediately

knows that it’s way too early. Way too early. I reach over onto
my nightstand and look at the screen of my phone. It’s Peter.
A thrill goes through me and a smile even though I think
I’m still mostly asleep. It’s been a couple days since we made
up and made our bargain, both of us so busy with things that
we haven’t been able to really find time for anything else. I
had to work with the editors to get spots ready, and Peter has
had press and promotional shoots. I answer. “For the love of
God please don’t tell me that you’ve turned into a morning
person.”
He laughs, the sound low and sexy and I can tell that he
just woke up too. “No, but I’ll get up for you. I want to see
you, and to sweeten the deal, I’ll make pancakes.”
I roll onto my stomach. “I can make pancakes here. What
else are you o ering?”
“I’ll put chocolate chips in the pancakes.”
I bite my lip, trying to hid my smile even though he can’t
see me. “And?”
“Sex.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
His smirk is obvious through the phone. “I know.”
 “Fine. I hate that you’re making me leave my very
comfortable, very warm bed, but I’ll be over soon.”
“I’m o ering sex and breakfast, you’re not going to get a
better o er than that.”
I stick out my tongue at the phone. “I’ll see you soon.”
Dragging my butt out of bed I shower quickly and put on
the clothes that I’ve picked out for the day, and just for good
measure, I grab an extra set too. Peter is in charge of our sex
life right now, and even though I know he’d never embarrass
me, I’m not going to make myself late because he fucked me
in pancake batter. If that’s his plan at all. He said sex, he
didn’t say orgasms.
Peter is clever with his words and often makes literal
loopholes. So I’m taking no chances and I switch my stu to
a bigger bag that has room for an extra set of clothes.
If we’re going to keep doing this, we’re going to have to
figure out a way that our cars aren’t so recognizable at each
other’s houses. It probably won’t matter so much at my
apartment, unless someone follows him here. But Peter is
gaining enough attention now that having photographers
outside his house isn’t something that will be uncommon.
But I can’t exactly park down the street and walk in,
that’s even worse. So, for this time, I just park in the
driveway. I don’t see anybody with a shiny lens around, but
some of them are really good, and I’m sure June Cavallaro
thought there wasn’t anybody around either.
I move from the car to the house as quickly as I can,
punching in the code, and I’m immediately overwhelmed
with the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. Okay, so this
would have been a good trade even without the promise of
sex, and I turn the corner into the kitchen, that's confirmed.
Because Peter is standing, flipping pancakes, in nothing but
loose pants. I can see the lines of muscle in his back and as
he turns towards me I follow those lines all the way as the
snake down his body and out of sight. I'm lucky that I know
exactly what that sight is. "That smells really good," I say.
"I have a magic recipe."
"Oh? Where'd you get it?"
He tosses another pancake to the already big stack. "I
invented it when I was young and starving in L.A. and needed
some kind of food that was cheap to make but also
comforting. I messed with the proportions and the batter
recipe until you have, what I think, is the perfect pancake."
I don't even wait for him to serve them to me. I grab one
o the top of the stack and take a bite. It's light and flu y.
Peter isn't lying that is by far the best pancake that I've ever
had.
"I know," he says smugly.
"You're going to have to teach me how to make these."
"At some point, I will," he says, "But I also might enjoy
holding these over your head for a little while. I think they
could be used as a very e ective bribe."
I take another bite of the pancake. "What exactly would
you be bribing me to do?"
Peter catches me around the hips and pulls me into him,
and his voice is on my lips. "I can think of so many things."
Instead of letting him kiss me, I take another bite of the
pancake, a burst of chocolate exploding on my tongue. But
he kisses me anyway, and I know he's been sneaking some of
the chocolate chips because he tastes like chocolate too.
"There's no way I'm going to be able to eat more than
like...two of these."
"They do really well in the freezer," he says. "You can
have the rest later."
"Good," But there's something else I want. "So how do
we transition from this to sex, because you promised me, but
you're still in charge, so I don't really know how this works,
and—"
 Peter cuts o my words quickly with a kiss. "That sounds
an awful lot like worrying."
"Not worrying," I say, shaking my head and pretending
like just kissing him doesn't make me wet and want to take
all my clothes o . "Just logistics."
He presses his mouth to my ear, and now I have
goosebumps. "Strip," he says softly. "How's that for
logistics?"
I manage to find my voice. "Pretty straight forward."
"I think that's what you're going to need while we try this
or you're going to get too caught up in worrying about how
we transition from pancakes to sex."
"I mean, yeah..."
Peter smirks at me. "I think it's a pretty natural
transition, but I'm going to show you."
I take o my clothes, and notice the way Peter is watching
me, holding still like he wants to grab me and put my back
on the kitchen table and fuck me till I scream. That actually
sounds nice, and I blush, because that's crazy. That's
something that gets written into a script in a movie and not
something that happens in real life. "What are you
thinking?" he asks as I take o the last piece of my outfit.
"Nothing."
"Than why are you blushing?"
"I'm not."
Peter sighs, and pulls me to him, lifts me so that I'm
sitting on the counter and he's standing between my legs. I
can see that he's hard when I look down, his cock tenting
those thin pants, and we're so close. Peter doesn't seem to
notice how it easy it would be for him to just...slip inside. But
then his fingers are on my chin, making me look at him.
"Time out."
"From what?"
 "From me being in charge for a second, because we need
to talk about this."
“What? I didn't change my mind, you can still be in
charge."
"No, Amber, the fact that you don't want to tell me
things." He takes some chocolate chips and dumps a pile
into the skillet without any batter. The stove is on a low heat,
but they start to soften and shine as I look at them.
"It was just a thought."
"About sex?"
I nod.
"So why don't you want to say it?" I reach out and wrap
my arms around his neck and pull him closer, try to kiss
him, force my breasts more firmly against his chest so that
he'll be distracted. He doesn't buy it.
"I just didn't think it mattered."
Peter presses his forehead to mine, and I'm flashing back
through time to all the times that we've done that before.
The way it grounds us here together, in a moment, and I take
a deep breath. "I know that it's going to take time," he says,
"and that we're di erent, and that it's never going to be
exactly the same, because it can't be. But we used to tell each
other everything. There wasn't anything that happened in
my life or mind that I didn't want to share with you, even
after we separated. And I want you to know that hasn't
changed for me. I don't care if it's a silly thought or a simple
thought or a sexy thought. You don't have thoughts that I
don't want to hear, Amber."
Then, finally, he kisses me, and it's filled with delicious,
slow heat. When he finally pulls back and the world rushes
back in, it feels new. Because that's so simple, and yet I can
see it. I understand and I remember, and to make this work
we're going to have to talk to each other. That's all there is
to it. "Okay."
 "Okay?"
"Yeah."
He nips my bottom lip. "Tell me what made you blush."
I glance away from him. "I saw you watching me undress,
and it kind of looked like you wanted to grab me, throw me
on the table and fuck me." I blush again, because saying
these words out loud is harder than it feels like it should be.
"Till I screamed. And I thought that might be nice."
"That's exactly what I wanted to do," he says. "Time in."
My breath hitches as he reaches over to the pan of now
melted chocolate and runs a finger through it. "That’s what I
plan to do after I finish a couple of other things."
He spreads the chocolate across one of my nipples and
leans down to suck it o . The chocolate is warm and sticky,
and the way he has to work to clean it o my skin has me
moaning. I like the way his tongue feels on me. I could have
it that way forever.
Everywhere.
My hands are on his shoulders and I'm struggling not to
try to force him closer, because that's not what we agreed,
and it's kind of nice. He knows what I said I wanted, or
thought about, and he said he wants that too, but I don't
have to worry if he's going to do that. There's something in
my mind that eases. Even if he doesn't take me on the table,
I know that Peter is going to take care of me. He's going to
make me feel good. And it's not something that I'll ever have
to worry about.
It's like a little thing clicks in my brain. The other night
when we talked about it, I couldn't help feeling guilty, like I
was piling all the responsibility for both our pleasure on his
head and it was going to be overwhelming. But now,
thinking about our history together, it's always been like
this. Peter's always taken care of me and given me what I
needed. Has always somehow known how to get me out of
my own head. But he can't do that if I don't talk to him.
"Oh."
"Mmm?" The questioning sound vibrates through his
mouth and onto my skin as he licks chocolate o my other
nipple and sends sparks bounding downward to my pussy.
"I just had a realization, that's all."
His mouth is on mine and it's all chocolate. "Tell me."
"You always seemed to know what I needed...before. You
knew when to calm me down and when to pin me down and
distract me. But you did that because we were talking. Or I
was talking. Or you saw something that helped you figure out
what I needed even if I didn't say it exactly."
Peter laughs. "Yes. I'm not a mind reader, and I'll never
be one. But if you talk to me, I'll always be there to help you.
I might not always give you what you want," he says, "But
I'll do my best to give you what you need."
It hadn't seemed fair to me, dumping it all on him. But he
was doing it anyway, taking control and helping, I was just
getting in the way. Not in the way, I was just making it
harder for both of us. A weight falls o my shoulders, and I
lean forward, my head on his shoulder, and he hugs me,
hands sliding down my back. I'm not dumping some task
that he doesn't want on his head, I'm letting him pick up the
slack he already wanted. A task he was already trying to do.
It seems so obvious.
"I think I get it now," I say into his skin. "Even if it still
feels weird." It does. Just because I have a burst of clarity
doesn't mean that it still doesn't feel strange to me.
Peter weaves his fingers in my hair and guides my head
o his shoulder and tilts it back so I'm meeting his gaze.
"What do you get?"
"That I'm not forcing this on you."
"No," he says, "you're not. You're asking me to do this
for you, and I'm asking for you to let me."
 "You want it too?"
He smiles, and tightens his fingers in my hair. "I've been
thinking the past couple of days, too. I had the same
realization that you did, that I was already trying to do this,
but we didn't really have the ways to say it. We were quietly
letting it happen, but because we didn't really have the life
experience to say it, it wasn't working as well as it could."
I shake my head, and he lets my hair go and I reach over
to grab another pancake. I kind of interrupted his promised
sex and the fact that he was sucking on my nipples with my
realization. "This isn't exactly the conversation I was
expecting to have this morning."
"It's important though," he says.
"I never realized how much of this was...that," I say, not
knowing how to label it. My mind keeps flashing to the
moments in our past when Peter would cover me with his
body, be inside me, and just lay there until I couldn't think
about anything else. He took it out of my hands. Not in a way
that was bad or overbearing, just helping me quiet my brain.
A brain that always runs too fast for its own good. I get
tripped up in my own thoughts and run in circles.
Peter runs a finger through the chocolate again, this time
reaching between us and smearing the warm chocolate
across my clit. I gasp, suddenly I'm dripping, both chocolate
and arousal. He kneels down and licks into me, and my mind
goes perfectly, deliciously blank. His tongue swirls around
my clit, searching for every last little bit of chocolate, and by
the time he's done, I'm thoroughly gasping, with my fingers
in his hair. More. I need more, and he gives it to me, pushing
his tongue into my pussy and fucking it until I'm squirming
on the counter. But it's not enough, and he pulls back with a
grin. "Just like that."
"Just like what?" I say, irritated that he stole an orgasm
from me, even if we both agree that he's allowed.
 "You were thinking too hard," he says.
Turning o the stovetop, he scoops me o the counter
and out of the kitchen. We're to the bedroom in record time,
and he lays me on the bed. I've never seen him put on a
condom so fast, and then he's here and above me, and
pushing in and in and in until I'm filled completely. My eyes
flutter shut, feeling all of him.
"Amber," he says, and I manage to open my eyes. "I
promise that I'm going to fuck you on that table, but since
we're talking about this, this is what you need. What you've
always needed."
I realize that he's lined himself up with me and that I
have the full weight of his body on mine. It feels so good, and
I haven't thought about anything else since he laid me on
this bed. I could easily fall asleep in the comfort of his
warmth and presence, and the fact that he's so deep inside
me I feel complete. "Okay," I say.
"Do you want to put a name to it?"
"What do you mean?"
He chuckles, and I like that I can feel him everywhere. "I
mean do you want to call what we're doing something so
that you don't have to say that we're doing...this."
"Maybe," I say. "But I don't know what to call it. And I'm
not sure the normal thing would work." I can't stop the
blush that rises to my cheeks. Go figure.
"Hmm," he says, moving his arms under my shoulders
and up so that he's cradling my neck and head. "I'm not so
sure about that. You seem to like it."
"No," I say too quickly. I am not...that. There's a twinge
in my gut, like my body is accusing me of lying, but I'm not
ready for that.
"You don't like the word submissive?" he asks it while his
lips are pressed against my skin, and I swear that flames
bloom from his lips and consume me.
 I lie, and I don't. "No." Because that word means
something di erent to me. And it will take me a long time to
separate it from this feeling.
He kisses me lightly. "For now why don't we just call it
the system. Our system. But we'll come back to the other
words later," he says.
"The system," I say, testing it out. It's good. It's also
something that we could potentially use in public if we
needed to reference it. The system. "I can do that."
"Good. Because I think that having language makes it
real. Otherwise it's just something nebulous that's going to
disappear, and even though this is just a test, I don't think
either of us really want it to disappear." I shake my head,
and he smiles. "Wrap your arms around my shoulders."
I do, and I feel him move, shifting his legs to the outside
of my hips for more leverage, though his weight is still on
me.
"Spread your legs." I do. "As wide as you can make them
go."
I have to close my eyes. Because this is suddenly so
intimate, and I'm ready and I'm not and every inch that I
spread my legs apart feels more vulnerable and makes him
feel bigger inside me. I stretch and stretch, until I can't
stretch anymore, and this feeling is amazing. I gush wetness,
and my nerves jump with sensitivity. He feels huge, buried in
me, and he's pinning me down while cradling me. And I'm
holding onto him. It's not hard to see what he's doing but I
also love it. Feeling this, it's all him. He's everywhere. Inside
and outside and supporting me while I hold onto him. The
holding on is important. It makes me feel active, and that
I'm saying yes, not just lying there while he takes over.
And then he starts to move, and I'm not ready. I didn't
realize my body was so primed, because I come immediately.
One thrust, and I'm drowning in pleasure, digging my nails
into his back while he starts up a true rhythm and I'm still
coming. It doesn't feel like it's going to stop, perfect and
rolling and holy shit it's just so good that I'm not breathing.
As soon as the last one fades, the next one picks up, sparking
and sparkling and bursting and I'm moaning but it's mu ed
by Peter kissing me and the sounds of him fucking me. And
one of the things I notice between waves of pleasure is that
I'm not thinking. I'm not thinking about anything but the
fact that I'm here with Peter and it's perfect.
"Peter," I gasp, in-between thrusts, "I can't come again."
"Don't be silly," he says. "Of course you can. One more
time." And he pushes in. I burst like a nova, light flashing,
and I hear him come too, groaning against my shoulder
while his hips still pump through his climax. I haul in breath
after breath as the fire of pleasure fades and I come back to
earth. It doesn't feel real. Peter grins at me when he
recovers. "I did promise you sex."
"That you did." I don't let go, I'm still clinging to him and
he's still inside me and I'm pissed that we have to get up and
go to work because I don't want to move. I sigh, and Peter
kisses my forehead. "You're coming back tonight, and I'll
make sure you get plenty of sleep underneath me."
"How did you know?"
"Because you closed your eyes, your breath smoothed out
like you were going to sleep, and you're frowning now that
it’s over." Peter's lips touch mine, starting slow before going
deeper, pulling me in and lighting a fire in my gut again. I
didn't realize he paid attention that closely.
"Okay." He removes his arms from underneath me, and
slowly, slowly, pulls back, and I don't like it. I feel cold and
empty and I want to stay in bed. "There's no chance that if
we just both call in sick that no one will notice, right?"
"Yeah, I think that might give it away."
 "Fine," I sigh, “but I need co ee. And maybe another
pancake."
"That," he says, “I can do.
17
 PETER
PRESENT

Harley is back on set and we’re filming the other side of our
kiss scene today. Since Clay isn’t here, I asked Amber that we
re-do my side of the kiss as well. Neither of us were acting,
and I don’t want our kiss being broadcast to the national
viewing audience of America.
But I’m distracted, because the second I walk out onto the
set in that costume, I’m thrown back to that day and that
kiss and the way Amber’s mouth felt under mine. I’m
reliving this morning with some of the best sex we’ve ever
had. Not to mention the system.
I’ve got to stop thinking about it because I’m going to get
a hard-on in front of the crew, but the memory of Amber’s
face, relaxing into me as I took control, feels like it’s burned
onto the inside of my eye lids.
Harley walks up. “Hey, Peter.”
“How was New York?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know, same old. Answering the
same questions over and over until your brain starts to
bleed.” I do know. Press junkets are boring, but necessary. “I
got a new question a few times though, so I figured I’d give
you a heads up because it’s probably heading your way too.”
“Oh, no.”
 “Yep. I think five di erent interviewers asked me if we
were together.”
I shake my head. “Do we even have any pictures together
floating around?”
She laughs, “No, other than the production photos, I
don’t think so.”
“All right, thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem,” she stretches, and that costume, which
Amber was falling out of and Harley does too, is made even
sexier by her stretch. It’s made sexier and it does nothing for
me. “I brushed it o , left it to you for what you want to say.
They’ll ask who you’re with now, since they know that we’re
not together.”
“And I’ll say that I’m happily taken, nothing more.” I
freeze, realizing that I probably shouldn’t have said that, but
it’s the truth. I may not be able to shout to the rooftops that
I’m finally able to be with the love of my life again, but I’m
not going to deny that and have people try to paint me as a
free-wheeling, single man who’s available and willing.
“Good,” she says. “You ready for this? I heard you already
filmed your side.”
“Yeah. I think we’re going to film both sides again,
though, just for consistency.”
“Sounds good.”
A few minutes later we’re rolling, and I do my best to
disappear into the character. I’m trying to let go of that
feeling of Peter and Amber in the scene and become Alex and
Genova. It’s not as easy as I would like it to be. I try to catch
Amber’s eye between takes, but it seems she’s always doing
something. Gloria is holding out something for her to look at
or she’s giving instructions to the DP and the rest of the
crew.
It’s probably better this way, because by the end of
filming I’m finally getting to the place where I can let myself
go, and the final take is definitely the best one. Harley heads
o , and I go to my trailer, because I can’t go straight to
Amber the way I want to. But my phone is in my trailer and
I’m going to text her.
I’m in the middle of doing that when there’s a knock on
my door. Speak of the devil. “Hello,” I say with a smile.
“I’m here to talk about possible changes to your
character, in case anyone asks.”
“Good to know.” She closes the door, and I press her up
against it and kiss her. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she breathes.
“It’s not like you, to take a risk like this that would make
people ask questions.”
“I know.” She’s blushing and it’s cute and I want to kiss
her again, but I let her finish. “I just wanted to see you
because I didn’t like watching you with Harley.”
She’s looking up at me with hopeful eyes, and I do kiss
her again. I run my tongue across her lips and she opens her
mouth, and I take it. The way she immediately surrenders
makes me hard and I pull her closer, press her harder
against the wall so she’s feeling all of me. “It took me a long
time to not think about you and me kissing in the scene,” I
say. “And I tried to look at you, but you were lost in
directing. I even thought about the fact that even though
Harley was falling out of that shirt that it did absolutely
nothing for me.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She smiles. “Okay.”
“It’s not going to be easy watching me pretend to have
sex with her either.”
She makes a face. “I know, but I’ll make it work. This is
my job, and you better make that scene as hot as you can.
And then when you’re done, you come home and you take all
the sexy energy out on me.”
“Just like I’m about to do right now?”
Amber giggles. “Exactly.”
“I’m sorry that it has to be like this,” she says. “I wish
you could come over and just kiss me and have everybody
know. I wish things weren’t the way that that they are.”
I laugh, pulling her down onto the couch with me. “I’m
fine with it, as long as I get to keep having moments like this
with you.”
She laughs too. “I think you might like fucking me in
secret a little too much.”
“You’re the one who came here and also the one who
suggested the bathroom at Fantasia. If I like it, you do too.” I
peel her shirt back and run my tongue along the line of her
collarbone. “Maybe you want to be caught and get it over
with.”
“I do not!” she says, hitting my arm. “I just don’t like my
life being harder than it needs to be. We both worked hard to
get where we are, and this isn’t making it any easier. You
know just as well that nothing has ever been easy for us.
Nothing. I don’t think I’d even be here and we wouldn’t be
together again if it weren’t for Mr. Davidson’s letter.”
I stop. The letter. I’d almost forgotten about those. “You
know about the letter.”
Amber bites her lip. “Yeah. I remembered it the other day
and I wanted to tell you that I knew but I wasn’t sure how to
bring it up because I knew that it was supposed to be a
secret.”
“How did you know?”
“I had to delay all my applications for a year because of
the heart stu . So when I went to interview, they told me
about the package. I called Mr. Davidson and he told me that
it was you. I never got to thank you for it. I did try to text
you, but your number was di erent.”
That feels like being punched in the stomach. “I had to
change it after my mother came back and robbed me. It was
so that she wouldn’t find me again. Now I really wish that I
hadn’t changed it.”
“Your mother?”
“I’ll tell you about it sometime,” I say. “Not now.”
“Okay. I just wanted to say thank you. Because you
brought us back together by doing that.”
I can’t say anything, because it feels like too much. I kiss
her instead until we’re both panting, hands roaming. “You
never have to worry about transition,” I tell her, pulling her
deeper into the trailer, “because I’ll tell you.”
“We’ve transitioned?”
“Yes.”
She sighs contentedly. “Okay. But after this morning, I
need to tell you that I’m kind of sore.”
“Hmmm…” I make a show of slowly running my hands
down her body. “Whatever am I going to do with you then?”
“I don’t know.”
I study her face as I consider my options. “I could take
you with my fingers and have you lick them clean.” Her eyes
widen, and I think I need to spend some more time to think
of creative dirty things to do, because I’m not sure some of
this stu has even occurred to Amber.
“I could stick your panties in your mouth to keep you
quiet and then use my mouth on you until you come.”
Her breath hitches on that one, and I file away the
knowledge that she might not mind being gagged for a sexy
reason.
“I could make you suck me o , and you get nothing. So
that you have to spend the rest of the day wet and wanting
and knowing that you’re not allowed to come until I touch
you again.”
Amber groans, letting her head fall against my chest. “I
shouldn’t want that, but I do.”
I drop my hand down and slip it between her legs. Even
through her jeans I can feel her heat. I rub my finger across
the seam, and she gasps, hips jerking. She wants more, and I
let her ride my hand for a few seconds, eyes closed, before I
pull it away. “That’s all you get.”
She moans, and I think I feel her shake. “Please?”
“No,” I shake my head. “Because by the time my head is
between your legs tonight I want you so wet that I have to
drink you. And I want you to think about that.” Sitting up, I
guide her to her knees in front of me, and undo my belt.
“Now suck.”
Amber shudders with arousal and lowers her mouth onto
me. God, she feels so good. Hot and wet and desperate, her
lips bob up and down on my skin and she’s not holding back.
She’s sucking hard, and I feel pleasure being pulled from the
nerves in my body, even in places I didn’t know could feel
that way.
Reaching down, I pull my cock up and out of her reach
and I don’t even have to speak, she knows. I watch my balls
disappear into her mouth, and it’s one of the hottest things
I’ve ever seen in my life.
Shit.
Her mouth is a warm heaven, and if I could walk around
with the feeling of Amber’s mouth sucking my cock and balls
all the time, I would do that. She focuses on one, and then
the other, and then back again, and I’m dizzy with the way it
feels.
Moving back to my shaft, she licks it from base to tip, and
I suck in a breath. “Fuck, Amber.”
 She raises an eyebrow and smiles. “I’m just doing what
I’m told.” Then her mouth is on me again, taking me deep
and fast, and my hands are white knuckled fists to stop from
taking her head and guiding it. I told her to suck me and I’m
going to let her do it her way. And her way is pretty fucking
good.
Pleasure builds quickly as she drives her mouth down my
shaft, and suddenly I’m close. So close, and then I’m there,
groaning as I come into her mouth, and I feel her dive down
again, letting it flow into her mouth, and then I feel her
swallow. And again until it’s gone, my cock twitching on her
tongue.
I can’t move, even when she puts me away and buckles
my belt, I’m frozen in the aftermath. “Good?” she asks.
“Perfect,” I tell her, voice raspy.
She climbs into my lap, and she’s straddling one of my
legs. She’s moving slightly as she smiles, pressing herself up
against me. “Are you trying to cheat?”
“No,” she says, but she is. Blood rushes to her face and I
grin, grabbing her hips and setting her on her feet.
“No cheating. When I get you into bed tonight, I’ll make
it worth it.”
She looks at me. “I have a question,” she says, “about the
system.”
“Okay.”
“What if you say something like that, and then tonight
comes and you decide that it’s more fun to not let me
come?”
I shake my head. “That’s not what this is for. The system
isn’t for me taking fun away from you or trying to drive you
crazy. I’m not going to lie to you or change my mind. If I
decide that I don’t want you to come for a few days,” I look
at her in the eyes and make sure she’s looking back, “and I
fully intend for that to happen,” I say, letting it sink in,
“then I’m going to tell you. For me to tell you that we’re
going to do something and just rip it away isn’t sexy, that’s
mean. Could be considered worse than mean.”
She nods. “Good. I’m okay with that.”
“Even with not coming for days?”
Amber shivers under my hands. “I might not be okay with
that, but I suppose that depends on how many times you
promise to make me come when those days are through.”
“It will be a lot. And so you know, you’re going to come
tonight. And just to make sure that you’re aware of it, I want
you to remember what you just did. Every time you speak to
someone for the rest of the day, I want you to remember that
you had my cock between your lips. And that my cum is still
coating your tongue. And that your cum is going to be
coating my tongue when I take my time with you tonight.
I’m going to make you come, and I’m going to take my sweet
time doing it.”
Her eyes glaze over, and I take the chance to press my
forehead against hers. “We’ve transitioned back now.”
“God, the rest of this day is going to suck.” I start to
laugh and she slaps me on the arm. “That’s not what I
meant.”
“I know. I just love you.”
“Love you too. Go out there and direct the hell out of
everyone.”
She rolls her eyes. “Especially you,” she says before she
slips out the trailer door.
18
 AMBER
PRESENT

Getting to the end of the day is like delicious torture. The

way Peter put images in my head, I couldn’t stop thinking
about him and what we did and what we’re going to do. He
sent me texts too, counting down the hours.
I’m walking to my car when my phone buzzes in my
pocket, and I smile, expecting a teasing message from Peter
about the fact that I’m going to be in his bed soon. But it’s
not from Peter, it’s from Clay.

Amber,
I’ve spoken to the producers on the show, and they have some
concerns about the direction of the storyline for the second half of
the season. Can you come over to my place so we can talk about
it?

That’s…strange. There have been a couple of times that the

wires have been crossed about who’s still in charge since
Clay backed out so suddenly and his name is still on a lot of
stu , but it’s frustrating when this happens. The producers
know that I’m here, and they’re still going to Clay for
decisions about things like storyline?
I know where Clay lives, I’ve been there before. I text him
quickly to tell him that I’ll be right over, and I text Peter to
tell him that I’ll be a little late.
Clay Markham’s house is really spectacular. It’s one of
those houses that could be in the movies, but as far as I know
he hasn’t let it. Instead he throws fabulous parties there.
The gate opens when I pull up and I drive in. This is a
little further from Peter’s house than I wanted to drive, but
this has to be dealt with, if only because I need to tell Clay
that if he really wants me to direct the show, then he actually
needs to let me direct the show and back the fuck o .
Even though I like Clay, I really do, and I owe a lot to him,
enough is enough.
When Clay answers the door, I’m shocked. He’s wearing
an open button-down shirt so I can see his chest. His hair is
tousled like he’s been sleeping, but the smile on his face is
breezy and open and he greets me with a big gesture.
“Amber! Welcome!”
The glimpse I get of his chest before he wraps me in an
embrace is surprising; he’s got a good body. I’ve never
thought of Clay that way. He’s got ten years on me at least,
and has never been my type. When I was working for him he
had a string of both women and men that he was sleeping
with. “Hi, Clay.”
“Come in, come in. Glad you got my message.”
“Yeah,” I say, following him into his living room and
sitting on the couch across from him. “I’m a little frustrated
that the producers are still going to you about things like
this.”
He picks up a glass of wine from the co ee table and
waves hand. “Oh, they didn’t.”
“They didn’t?”
 “No, of course not. That’s your deal. I just said that to get
you over here.”
I freeze. “I’m sorry?”
Clay knocks back the glass of wine and pours himself a
new one from the decanter on the table. “I needed you to
come over here because I want you.”
Dread swirls in my stomach, and I’m suddenly aware that
I’m much closer to him than I am to the door. But this is
Clay, my mentor, the jokester and gossip of Hollywood. This
is some kind of joke. It has to be. It has to be. “Clay, I don’t
understand.”
He smiles, and it’s not a nice smile. “You know I always
thought you were beautiful. And I thought that you were
good. That’s why I never went after you. I didn’t want to be
the one that introduced you to the way things work here in
the City of Angels, but now I know that’s not true.”
“I—”
“No,” he says, cutting o any response, “now I know
you’re just like every other woman in this town trying to get
ahead. You’ll fuck anything that moves for a better gig, and
since you’re not as good as I thought you were, and I handed
you the biggest job in your life, you owe me.”
“Clay, you can’t be serious.”
He laughs and drinks half the glass of wine. “Of course
I’m serious. I followed you into the bathroom in Fantasia,
and it doesn’t take a brilliant detective to see a woman’s
knees on the floor or hear the sounds of a blowjob. And
guessing from how your dress looked when you came out,
more than that happened in that stall. If you’re willing to
fuck a rising star to get somewhere, then you’re definitely
going to fuck me. Because I made you, and if you don’t, I’ll
make you the second round of the June Cavallaro scandal,
and you’ll never work in Hollywood again.”
 I can’t breathe. The room is spinning and I feel like I
might pass out, but I can’t do that because if I pass out then I
won’t be able to get out of here. I stand up. “I don’t know if
you’re drunk, Clay. Or stupid. Or if you actually believe what
you’re saying, but I’m not having sex with you.”
“I’m not stupid,” he says, standing too. He reaches for
my arm but I move just in time. The second time I don’t. He
has me by the shoulder, painfully pulling me closer while
trying to push me down. “You and Petey’s little bathroom
escapade will be in all of tomorrow’s papers if you don’t give
me the same treatment you gave him—on your knees and
more.”
No. No no no. I jerk my shoulder out from under his hand
and sprint for the door. “I have pictures,” he calls after me,
walking behind me, following like a cloud of doom. “You
might as well just fuck me and be done with it.”
I reach the front door, and only stop for a second. “Fuck
o , Clay.” But I can barely get the words out.
In my car, I can feel the bile rising. I need to find a place
where I can throw up that’s not on the street, but I need
more than that. I need Peter. I drive down the hill from his
house and pull into the first spot I find on Sunset Boulevard,
in front of a casual restaurant. I burst into the restaurant,
startling a couple of people, and I manage to dial Peter’s
number just before I’m in the bathroom and hurling my guts
up. Peter answers the phone, but I can’t speak. Not right
now. I’m sure the sound of vomit isn’t what he expected
when he took my call.
I can hear the panic in his voice. “Amber? What’s going
on.”
“I need you,” I say, weakly.
“Where are you?”
I tell him. I’m not sure what the restaurant is called, but
he assures me that he’ll find it and then hangs up. I throw up
again, and my body keeps going until there’s nothing left to
throw up. Even then I’m gagging.
It’s not lost on me that I’m in a public bathroom, the
scene of exactly what put me here, which brings on another
round of heaving. But I finally manage to stop my stomach
from rolling and flush the toilet. I don’t move from the floor.
I need to wipe my mouth. I need water. But I’m not moving,
not until Peter gets here.
I can’t stop imagining that I’m going to walk out of the
bathroom door and Clay is going to be standing there, that
he followed me and is going to corner me publicly. I know
that’s probably not true, but I can’t shake the feeling.
Not long after I get control of my stomach, the tears
follow. I feel stupid, because nothing happened, but I can’t
stop crying.
The door opens, and it's Peter's voice. "Amber?"
I must be loud enough to hear, because I don't have to
answer before he's pushing into the handicap stall and is on
the ground with me pulling me into his lap. I didn't lock the
door because I was too busy losing whatever food I'd eaten
today.
The minute he puts his hands on me, my body relaxes,
because it's safety. It strikes me that this really does mean
that we've moved past everything, because there was a time
when if you asked me if Peter Holleman was the person who
made me feel safe, I would have said no. He holds me tight as
I bury my head into his shirt and fight for control, even if I
don't need it with him. It takes a while.
But when I'm not crying as hard, he finally asks, "What
happened?"
Thinking about it nearly sends me scrambling for the
toilet again, but I hold on, digging my fingers into his shirt
and jeans. I'm suddenly tired, practically swaying, and I
realize that I haven't said anything. "You threw up?" he asks.
 I nod.
"We should get some food or sugar into you. Are you okay
to go out into the restaurant? I'll find us a place in the
corner, no one will be the wiser."
I'm not usually in this part of town, and there wouldn't be
any paparazzi interested in me going to Clay Markham's
house, and having some kind of drink to wash the bad taste
out of my mouth sounds nice. "Okay."
He helps me to my feet, and I wash my mouth while he
looks for a booth or table, and he holds my hand while he
guides me to it, and doesn't let it go when he sits across the
booth from me, or when the waitress comes and he orders
me co ee and a slice of blueberry pie. My voice is raspy as I
speak. "You remember that I like that?"
"I remember everything, Amber." I look down, and he
adds his other hand to hold mine. It's cradled, and
comforted. "What happened?"
This seems like a completely di erent world from the one
we were living in this afternoon, where we were sexy and
teasing and happy. It's absurd. But he needs to know. "Clay
texted me as I was leaving the studio and told me that the
producers had concerns about the story, and I was pissed
that they were still going to him about things like that. So I
met with him. But he lied."
And then I tell him the rest, word for word, as far as I can
remember it. About Fantasia, and the pictures, and his
assessment that since I'd had sex with Peter that I owed sex
to him too. Peter's hands don't tighten on mine. They're soft
and soothing, but I can see the way the rest of his body goes
tense with anger and that he's clenching his teeth.
The waitress brings the pie and I have to let him go to eat
it. I finish telling him how Clay followed me out of the house
and I came here, not wanting to be sick on the side of the
road. "What are we going to do?" I ask, fighting o the
welling up of emotion that comes with telling him all of that.
"It's Clay Markham. He says he took pictures. It doesn't
matter how careful we are because of who he is. If he says
he's going to make sure I never work again, then he is. It's
going to happen. I'm so sorry, Peter."
Peter looks at me, eyes blazing. "Don't you ever
apologize. None of that is your fault. I had no idea that Clay
would do something like that, and the fact that I almost
worked with him without knowing that he's that kind of
monster makes me sick." He slips out of his side of the booth
and comes around to mine. He slips a hand around my waist
and kisses me on the forehead. "Are you okay to stay here for
a few minutes? Because I'm going to talk to him."
"What are you going to say?"
He shakes his head, hand tightening on my hip. "I don't
know yet, but I'm going to fix it. Eat your pie. Order yourself
another piece, and don't leave. I'll be back soon."
There's a lump in my throat, but it's okay. I know that he
means it when he says he's going to fix it. There's a warmth
in my gut, the sense of relief that being taken care of brings.
Peter doesn't lie. He's going to fix it. I find a smile
somewhere inside me. "Try not to kill him."
Peter doesn't return that smile. "I'll try." And then he's
up and striding out of the restaurant. I see him send a text
before he gets in his car, and then he's driving away.
I order another slice of pie.
19
 PETER
PRESENT

I can't remember a time in my life when I've been this angry.

Before I turn on my car, I send a text to Michael telling him
where to meet me, because I'm going to need someone there
to remind me not to kill this bastard, and Michael is a pretty
good choice for that. We haven't spoken since I had him
kicked out of Fantasia, but he'll have my back. I know he
will.
I've been to Clay's house once before, when he was
courting me for the show. It looks di erent to me now that I
know who he really is. I only have a half-formed plan, but I
don't even care. This has to be dealt with, and now, before
Clay has a chance to ruin everything that Amber has worked
for.
Banging on the door, I wait until I hear shu ing
footsteps on the other side. The door opens, and Clay is
there. No shirt, hair disheveled, he's practically drooling.
And I notice something that Amber didn't tell me about. His
eyes are so bloodshot that they're red. I push past him,
because like hell am I going to let him shut me out of the
house. "I heard you threatened Amber."
Clay starts laughing. Not a normal laugh, it's maniacal
and piercing. "I didn't threaten her, I told her that she
needed to pay her debt. You already got paid you pretty little
pansy. She sucked your cock and now she needs to suck
mine. It's only fair."
It takes everything I've got not to put his head through a
wall. I do shove him into it though, and I put myself as far
into his space as I dare. "What the fuck is wrong with you?
Why would you ever say that to a woman that you work with,
let alone one that I thought you respected?"
His body is limp, and he lets his head loll on his shoulders
while rolling his eyes. "Perer. Perter. Peter. You're young.
You don't know how this works yet. Sure, Amber is fine.
She's not brilliant. But people like it when you mentor girls
like that. They call you sensitive and give you more jobs and
you get all the other women dying to fuck you. But Amber,
she's not just a decent director, she's hot. You know. And I
made her. The least she can do is give me what I need as a
thank you. You know. You fucked her."
I throw him up against the wall again. "You piece of shit."
My fist is raised and I'm about to throw the punch when the
door opens.
"Woah!" Michael jumps in front of me, "What the hell are
you doing, Peter?"
Lowering my arm, I have to take a breath before I speak.
"You're high, aren't you, Clay?"
"What the fuck does that matter?"
"It matters a lot you dickhole."
Michael puts his hands on my shoulders and shoves me
back. "Peter, what is happening."
I glance at him before looking back at Clay. Not willing to
take my eyes o him. "This fucker lured Amber here with a
lie about the show and then proceeded to blackmail her into
sex and who knows what else. She barely got out of the
house."
Michael goes pale. "What?" He turns to Clay too.
 "She's going to fuck me, or everyone is going to know
what a little whore she is," Clay says viciously, holding out
his phone. It's a blurry picture, and the angle is clear that it's
under a bathroom stall, but it's clear enough that it's Amber
and me. My cock is in her mouth, just like those pictures that
made the papers that made her freak out in the first place.
Michael glances over at me, and I know that I'm going to get
an earful later about Amber, but he's smart enough to know
that this isn't the right time.
I have to think. Because I honestly have no leverage. It
hits me. I can't give him anything that he wants, but I can
take something away.
"If you ever go near her again," I say, "I'll release the
story about your drug use. You're famous for your killer
parties, but you're also famous for being clean. It will ruin
your reputation."
Clay laughs again, that high pitched laugh that makes me
sick to my stomach because I used to hear it all the time
from my mother. She would never see reason either. All of
this is like déjà vu, and I hate it. I swear to God I'll never
touch anything harder than Tylenol in my life.
"Who would believe you?" he asks. "You're just a little
rising star. Undercover hasn't even premiered yet. If it's my
word against yours, I win, and you're a liar."
I don't even think about the next words before I say them.
"Then I'll tell them it was both of us. I'll say that you and I
took drugs together, and that I'm deeply sorry. The press
loves a good mea culpa. And since I'll then go to rehab and
show that my blood tests are clean, I'll come out like yet
another reformed Hollywood boy. I'll deal with the fallout for
the rest of my career if that's what it takes. But people are
going to know about you."
Michael is frozen beside me, and I know that he must be
dying inside, but this is the only way. I'm not going to let
him do this. Not to Amber, not to anyone. The look that Clay
gives me is pure poison. "Fine. I'll stay away from your
precious little Amber."
"Good. But not enough. You will remove your name from
any remaining contracts a liated with Undercover so that
Amber has complete creative control. And you will sign an
agreement not to speak about Amber publicly in any way and
to not visit the set while the show is being filmed, and you
will delete all copies of that photo and any other ones you
have."
He sneers. "You think this makes you powerful? You don't
know what power is in this city. You'll lose eventually."
"I'll make the call right now," I say, pulling out my
phone.
"Fine," he says. "You can keep your show. It's going to
fail anyway. It's not good enough."
I turn to Michael, who's eyes are wide. "You can handle
the legal side of it?"
He nods. "I can."
"Good, let's go." I walk toward the door, and I hear Clay
snicker. I turn, "And if for some reason you think that you
can still call and put this in the papers before all the legal
stu is worked out, I've been recording all of this. I'll happily
send out copies to whoever wants to listen to you claiming
that a woman you mentored owes you sex because she dared
to want to learn from someone who's considered the best in
their field."
Clay slumps against the wall, and finally, I think I can
relax. There's no options for him. No matter what he does,
it's going to end badly for him. And even high out of his
mind, he knows that. I blow out a sigh of relief as we close
the door behinds me.
"Holy shit, Peter," Michael says. "You couldn't have
given me a heads up about what I was walking into?"
 "There wasn't time. I'm sorry."
"Jesus." He shakes his head. "I can't believe this. And
believe me, we're going to talk about the fact that you're
sleeping with her."
I sigh. "No, Michael, we're not."
He raises his eyebrows. "I told you that this isn't a good
look. That you can't do this."
"We're not going to talk about it because this isn't what
you think it is. You don't know the whole story. You don't
need the complete history, but you can know enough." I give
him the short version of our history, and the fact that this
isn't either of us sleeping with the other one because we're
lusting after one another or we don't have enough will
power.
Michael scrubs a hand across his face. "This is a lot of
fucking information."
"I know."
"You could have told me more than that you just to know
each other. I'm not a complete dick. If you'd told me that she
was the love of your life, I wouldn't have been such an
asshole about you not going after her. So you guys are
together?"
I nod. "Yeah. We thought that it might be good to wait
until after the show has some good critical acclaim, and then
come out as a couple together. Cute interview, story about
our past and how we reconnected. We wanted to make sure it
didn't get broken by the tabloids. Or like this."
"Yeah," Michael says, "I'll take care of that fucker. He
won't be able to touch you when I'm done with him."
"That's what I was hoping to hear," I say, "but there's
one more thing we need to talk about."
He's already on his phone, typing away, but I cover it with
my hand, and he looks up at me. "Fantasia."
"What about it?"
 "You don't remember?"
He shakes his head. "I don't. I remember getting there,
and I remember getting home. I don't even know what was
in the drinks that they served me that would have gotten me
that wasted. Please tell me I didn't do something
monumentally stupid."
I sigh. "You did, but it was just in front of Amber and
me." I tell him.
"Ah, Jesus," he says. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure that I
apologize to Amber. This is why I don't drink normally. I get
fucked up and the side that has no social manners comes
out."
"You have social manners at all?"
He narrows his eyes, but he's trying to keep a smile o
his face. "I'm about to save your ass, watch what you say."
"Thanks, Michael. I like knowing that you've got my
back."
"I do," he says, clapping me on the shoulder. "And I'll
have Amber's too."
I nod. "Speaking of, I've got to go. She's obviously pretty
freaked out by all of this."
"It'll all be in motion by tomorrow," he says, heading to
his car, head ducked down to his phone again.
For once, I did the right thing. I fixed it. I didn't do
something that ruined someone's life, or career, I made it
better. Hopping in my car, I speed back to the restaurant.
Amber is still in the corner booth, and I can see that she had
a second piece of pie, and she looks way more at ease. She
smiles when she sees me. "What happened?"
"It's done," I say.
"But what?"
I pull her to her feet. "Let's go home," I say, "and I'll tell
you everything."
"Okay."
 "Can Gloria pick up your car?"
She nods. "That should be fine. I'll text her."
I wrap my arm around her waist and walk with her out on
to Sunset Boulevard. "Perfect, because for the foreseeable
future, I don't want you out of my sight."
20
 AMBER
PRESENT

In the car, Peter tells me everything that happened, and I

can't believe it. I can't believe that he would do that for me,
be willing to risk his entire career for me. And yet I can
believe it, because that's Peter. Even when I didn't want to
see it, he's been willing to give up everything for me.
"But how did you know?" I ask. "How did you know that
he was high?"
The look on his face is grim. "When you grow up with an
addict, you learn the signs."
I reach over and take his hand. "I never realized that it
was that bad. I'm sorry. You mentioned her earlier today.
What happened?"
And then he tells me that his mother came back into his
life and pretended to be clean just so she could use him for
money and a place to live, and when he refused, she took
everything he had. "That's awful."
"It is what it is," he says.
My mind is racing, and I put two and two together. "She's
the real reason you didn't want to keep quiet about the
fainting." Peter says nothing as we pull into the garage of
my apartment. "You'd already seen someone you love fall
apart, and you didn't want to see someone else do the same
thing."
"That was why," he says quietly.
I squeeze his hand as he pulls into the parking space.
"Thank you."
We barely make it up to the apartment before our clothes
are o and he's carrying me into the bedroom, sprawling on
the bed together. "I want to make sure that this is okay," he
says, "after what happened."
"Yes," I say, pulling him to me, wanting his skin on mine.
"I don't want to think about him. I only want to think about
you."
"In that case," he says, rolling away from me, laughing
when I whine, "I have two more questions."
He pulls a couple things from his bag which he dropped in
the hallway. "How much do you trust me?" he asks, coming
back over. He has some papers, and something black. Sitting
on the side of the bed, he hands me the black thing. I unfold
the soft fabric and it takes shape in my hands as a simple
black mask, for sleeping. "A blindfold?"
His hand is on the back of my neck and he pulls me in for
a kiss, my nipples brushing his chest. "I don't want you to be
distracted by anything, not even what you see me doing."
"And what will you be doing?"
He laughs. "For tonight, nothing I wouldn't normally do
while you can see. I thought this might be a step toward
other things."
I think about putting on the blindfold, and it doesn't seem
scary, it seems exciting. Especially given what he told me he
was going to do this afternoon. "Yeah, I can do that."
He kisses me again. "I promise you'll like it."
"I think I will."
Handing me the papers, he says, "This is the other thing.
Not nearly as sexy. They’re my test results." I recognize
these from my own. My own are older, but I haven't slept
with anybody but him in a long time. "I was hoping—"
"No condom?"
"Yeah."
The thought of him being inside me, really inside me,
makes me suddenly wet, as wet as I've been all day, with the
exception of the past couple hours. "I want that," I say.
"Yes."
He sweeps the papers onto the floor and pushes me back
onto the bed, capturing my mouth with his own. He doesn't
have to tell me how excited this makes him, because I can
feel how hard he is against my stomach. And I want it too. As
he kisses me, I begin to fall into that place where I don't
have to think about anything, and I feel blissfully free. My
face is cradled in Peter's hands, the mask soft on my skin
where he's holding it.
When he finally pulls away, I'm melted, ready and
content. Peter slips the mask on over my eyes, and for a
second, I feel panic that I can't see him, but I can still feel
him, and his kiss feels entirely di erent when I'm not able to
just open my eyes. It feels delicious. Expansive. "Is that
comfortable?"
"Yeah," I say. "It's really soft."
"Good."
His mouth is on my shoulder, and I jump in surprise. He
laughs. "I made you wait all day, so you can come whenever
you want. As much as you want."
Anticipation rolls through me in a wave. "Okay."
And then I can't speak anymore because he's using his
mouth and tongue to paint lines on me. Across my
collarbone and shoulders and around my breasts, not
touching my nipples until the last second so I moan with
need. I never know where he's going to touch next and it
makes me feel like every nerve is a live wire waiting to be
shocked. He's moving so slowly it's excruciating. The way
he's sucking on my skin and tracing with his tongue, it feels
like hours for him to travel across my stomach and tease
around my belly button. And when he reaches my mound, I
think he stops completely.
He teases my thighs and the crease that leads to where I
want him, but even when I raise my hips closer to his mouth,
he just pushes them down and continues on his wandering
journey. And he can, because I let him, because I said that
it's his choice. I shiver and savor the sudden vulnerability.
There's no other place where I get to feel this, the sensation
of being free and light and complete. It's perfect.
It starts with his tongue. Barely a flick on the tip of my
clit, and even that is enough to make me moan. The pleasure
shoots inward and settles in my gut. Every tiny touch gives
me more. Then his lips with fluttering kisses on my skin. On
my entrance. Right next to my clit.
"Peter," I say, "you're teasing me."
"Yes, I am."
"Why?"
I can feel his smile. "Because I can."
God damn it that shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but it turns
me on more, if that's even possible. He goes back to his
teasing, with every round of it adding a little more of his
tongue and his lips so that the pleasure is building, but never
enough to send me over. I reach for him, try to guide him
closer and deeper but he just chuckles and moves my hands
aside. "The system, Amber. If I want you to guide me, I'll let
you. Right now, this is mine." I grab my comforter instead,
fisting my hands in it. I grit my teeth because the pleasure is
too much and not enough and it's so good. He's not just
flicking my clit with his tongue now, it's long, broad strokes
across my slickness. He's slipping it inside my pussy to taste
me, and then drawing is across everything before circling my
clit again and again. He makes me think that he's going to
stay there, that he's going to let me go over when he moves.
I practically scream, but I'm too lost in the pleasure to
know if I actually do. I want to see his face buried in between
my legs but I can't, and I have the urge to rip the blindfold
o , but I don't. It's his choice. His choice.
Just repeating those words in my head lets me get control.
It's not me, it's him. Not me. Not me.
The overwhelming need to come recedes, and I sigh,
relaxing into the feel of his tongue on me, of the way he
sucks me deep into his mouth. "That was very good," he
says. "I'm proud of you."
"Thanks," I say.
And then he slips two fingers into me, and I shatter into
pleasure. I do scream now, body taken o -guard by the
sudden thrust and I'm flying. His mouth is sealed over my
clit and he fucks me with his hand while I'm soaring on wave
after wave of pleasure. All the teasing today has broken open
and is working its way through me and out, until the waves
spit me out, limp and wrecked on the shore of the orgasm.
Peter's fingers work my G-spot, and my muscles jump and
flutter, still sending pleasure in fits and sparks while I heave
in breaths. His mouth is over me, lapping up every little bit
of my cum just like he promised. I love it.
"You're gorgeous when you come," he says, licking over
me again slowly, emphasizing his point. "Are you still sore?"
"Yes," I say, honestly, "but I don't care." I'll be damned if
he's not inside me tonight.
Strong hands grab my hips and flip me over on the bed
and lift my ass. I like the way he spreads me open, smooths
his hands over me like he's inspecting and measuring. And I
jump when his fingers touch my ass. "On those days when
you're not allowed to come," he says, "I might want to fuck
you here."
 My pussy clenches down, and I'm wet again, because the
way he says it is so confident, so sure that I'll love it and that
he'll love it, that I want it. I can't help the moan that comes
out of me, and the second one when his tongue is suddenly
there in my ass, licking and sucking and making me want
more. I didn't even know it could feel like that, let alone that
I would want anyone to touch me there. But I can't even
think about that now, because as soon as his mouth
disappears, his cock is at the entrance to my pussy, hot and
ready and bare and yessss.
Peter slips right in and doesn't stop until his balls are
pressed right up against me. Giving me a second to adjust to
him, I relax under his hands. They stroke down my back and
up to my neck and I'm just...happy. I can't remember the last
time in my life that everything was coming together like this.
Even that idiot Clay can't bring me down, because we won,
and as Peter pulls back and slams into me again, and again
fucking me with brutal strength, I let myself surrender to the
pleasure.
I reach back for him, and Peter takes my hands, holding
them, not missing a beat in the rhythm. Pleasure is building
fast and steadily, and I ask him to fuck me harder, and he
does. He takes me and I take him, and I'm swimming
through an ocean again. When lightning strikes, I feel split
open, every part of me electrifies for a brief, perfect moment
before it sizzles through me and leaves me breathless and
gasping and feeling every movement he makes and the
aftershocks of pleasure through my gut.
Peter is grunting with every thrust, the slap of his skin on
mine so good, and I can feel it when he's there. He swells
inside me, cock jerking as he yells out his climax, and I fall
into pleasure again as heat spreads inside me. So good I
never want him to stop. So good I never want to leave the
bed. So good that I'll never not be angry that I missed ten
years of him.
We stretch out on the bed together, and he wraps me up
in his arms. I look up at him, eyes still glazed and out of it,
and it's adorable. "I love you," I tell him.
He smiles, a sleepy, perfect smile. "I love you, too."
We fall asleep like that, him first, and then me, tangled
together so that we'll never come apart.
It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes me up in the
morning, and the sense of joy and wonderment that this is
the start of waking up like this, with Peter, every day for the
rest of my life.
21
 PETER
PRESENT

The credits roll, and there’s applause that greets the end of
the show. I’m sitting all the way in the back, because I don’t
want to take away from this moment for Amber. The room is
filled with industry people. Journalists, but not just them,
important industry people and the who’s who of Hollywood
are here for the premiere. My jaw kind of dropped when I
saw the guest list. Clay Markham is not here. He was not
invited.
It’s not every day that a television show even gets a
premiere, but the show has been so anticipated that we were
lucky.
Amber stands up and walks to the front of the theatre
during the applause. She looks fucking stunning in a
shimmery gold dress that flows down her body, and I can’t
wait to get a closer look at that. My first thought was that I
can’t wait to peel her out of it. But she’s so sexy in it that I
think I might let her keep it on. I want to watch her breasts
bouncing inside that gold fabric while she comes.
It’s been a great month. We wrapped the first season of
the show, and ever since then, Amber and I have just been
enjoying each other. As privately as we can, even though
we’re not quite as careful as we once were.
 The audience quiets down and Amber begins to speak.
“Thank you all so much for coming. I know I speak for the
whole cast and crew when I say that we’ve worked really
hard to put this show together and make it the best that it
can possibly be. I hope you enjoyed watching it as much as
we enjoyed making it, and here’s hoping that you’ll enjoy
the rest of the season just as much. Thank you!”
There’s another round of applause and people begin
standing, speaking to each other and mingling. I see several
people approach Amber immediately, and from the way that
she’s smiling, I hope that it’s congratulations. It’s hard to
make it to her because people are trying to stop me too. I do
my best to keep the conversations short, but not rude. These
aren’t exactly people that you want to piss o .
I’m halfway across the room when I see the president of
the studio approach her. I can see from here the way she
tenses, and I excuse myself immediately. I move swiftly
through the crowd, but I don’t get there in time, walking up
behind her just as he’s leaving.
“Amber?” She turns, her face blank, tears in her eyes.
“What’s wrong? What did he say?”
She shakes her head, drops her head into her hands and
my stomach sinks. It wasn’t good enough. They didn’t like it.
I’m fired. She’s fired. All of those things swirl through my
head in a second, but then she looks up at me and smiles.
“We did it,” she says, laughing. “We did it. We’re greenlit for
seasons two and three, and they liked it so much that they’re
adding an option through season six.”
I freeze. Oh my God. This is perfect and beautiful and I
think I’m so happy that it’s going to leak out of me. I laugh,
and pull her into me, kissing her deeply, and it’s only when I
hear a gasp that I realize what I’ve done. I step away from
Amber quickly and see Gloria standing there, her mouth
open. Michael is right behind her. And there’s silence that
falls over the room. More and more people are looking at us
until it feels like the whole theater is.
Amber is blushing, and I can’t believe that I did that. “It
was just a congratulations kiss, I—”
But Amber reaches out and puts her hand on my chest.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Peter and I are a couple.” She directs
her words towards the studio executives, who are watching
with surprise on their faces. “We’ve known each other for a
long time, and the show brought us back together. If this
jeopardizes the future of the show, I’ll step down.”
I feel like I’m going to be sick. She can’t step down. They
can’t make her. “Are you kidding?” Gloria squeals. “People
are already in love with you two. They’ve been tagging you
together everywhere. Ever since you two were at that place
and you bought her pie, Peter. The fans totally ship you. If
everyone finds out that you’re a couple and then you step
down, the fans will riot. Besides, like, on the scale of scandal,
you guys are totally boring. Pie? Give me more please.”
People burst out laughing, and Amber turns into me,
hiding her face. I put my arm around her, and glancing at the
executive team, they’re smiling too. Thank you, Gloria.
People don’t seem too stunned, and Michael gives me a
thumbs up from across the room. He apologized to Amber,
and since then he’s been in our corner in a big way. It’s
really helped.
Gloria practically pounces on us, hugging us both. “You
guys don’t even know how happy I am that the rumors are
true because you guys are so fucking cute it makes me sick.”
“Thank you for saying that,” Amber says. “I think you
just saved my job.”
“Is it true?” I ask Gloria.
“Absolutely. There’s a whole corner of the internet that’s
obsessed with you two,” Gloria says. “Trust me.”
I hold up my free hand in surrender. “I do.”
 “Good. Now how public is this? Because this is going to
take the gossip world by storm and I want to be on the front
lines.”
“Not super public,” Amber says, looking at me, “but not
super private either. We’re going to do an interview together,
after season one, and we’ll tell people all the details.”
I look down at her, and the happiness glowing in her eyes,
and I have to kiss her again. That happiness has been earned
by both of us, and now that we have it back, we’re never
letting it go.
 EPILOGUE
AMBER

Six Months Later

“So you’ve known each other all this time?” The interviewer
asks, shocked.
I smile up at Peter. “Yeah. We had our ups and downs.
One really big down, actually, but we were high school
sweethearts. And when we were both hired on Undercover, we
realized that those feelings had never gone away.”
The lights in the studio are bright, and it feels weird to be
sitting in front of the camera instead of behind it, but for the
moment the set of Undercover is the set for our exclusive
interview. We’re telling our story for the first time the way
it’s meant to be told, and based on the buzz it’s gotten since
it was announced, it’s a story that people have been wanting
to hear.
“Now, Peter,” the interviewer asks. “What was your
reaction when you saw Amber again for the first time?”
His arm tightens around my waist. “I was…shocked,” he
says. “I never thought I was going to see her again, didn’t
even know she was in Los Angeles. And when I saw her, I
knew it was my chance. I knew I was going to make her fall
in love with me again.”
“That’s really sweet.”
The interviewer the entertainment show sent is really
good. She bounces back and forth between us, working her
way through the story that we briefed her on. We even have
the chance to set the record straight about Clay Markham,
who despite the legal gag orders he’s signed, has been
consistently trying to slander us. It hasn’t worked.
Finally, we get to where we are now. “So you two are
working on season two of Undercover, together. How’s it
going so far? Has it changed your dynamic on the set?”
“Absolutely not,” Peter answers. We agreed that he’d
answer this type of question. “Amber is the head of the
show, and just because we’re dating doesn’t change that. She
values the opinions of everyone on set, including mine. She’s
running a really collaborative show here. And the fact that
we’re in a relationship and can be open about it has made the
atmosphere even better.”
“That’s fantastic. So what’s on the horizon for you both?”
“Well,” I say, “We’re greenlit through season three of
Undercover, so we’ll be doing this together for at least one
more year. After that, we’ll see, though we both agree that
we want to keep working together on projects when possible,
because it’s been an amazing experience so far.”
The interviewer beams. “And personally?”
I blush, we thought this question might come up, but
honestly, I hadn’t thought of a good way to answer it. I’m in
it for the long haul, and Peter is too. We’ve talked about it.
But it’s di erent when you’re saying it on television. But it’s
probably already clear that I’ve gone beet red. So I decide to
look at Peter, and let him handle it.
And he has been handling it. Our system just didn’t last
the week, it’s still going, because that’s what works for us.
He doesn’t mind that I’m the boss at work, and I like that
he’s—mostly—the boss at home. We’re a good balance for
each other, and the last months have been great as we are
starting to learn each other again just as well as we did in
high school.
Peter smiles down at me, and kisses me on the forehead.
“We’re doing really well, personally, and I think we’ll
continue to do well, though I think how well depends on the
next few minutes.”
“What are you talking about?”
Peter pulls away from me, o of the couch that we’re
sitting on together, and a hush falls over the room, the
entire filming crew suddenly going still. I realize what’s
happening. This is happening now. “Oh, my God.”
Peter gets down on one knee in front of me, and suddenly
I’m crying. The tears are welling up and over my eyes and I
can barely see him through the blur. The interviewer has her
hands over her mouth. She didn’t know this was happening
either, and now it’s being captured by three di erent
cameras.
“Amber,” Peter says, taking my hands in his. “I’ve been
in love with you since eleventh grade when you dragged me
out of the snow and into drama club. I was in love with you
when we talked about forever, even though we were young,
and forever is a long time. I was in love with you when we
were apart, even if I pretended that I wasn’t. And I’ve fallen
in love with you all over again in the last nine months.
“I’ve told you more than once that you’re it for me, and I
still know that it’s true. I want to spend the rest of my life
with you, and I don’t want to waste any more time telling the
world about it. I love you, more than anything.”
Then he pulls out a ring, pale gold with a dainty diamonds
and more diamonds swirling o it. It’s the most beautiful
ring I’ve ever seen. “Will you marry me?”
 I lunge forward and kiss him, wrapping my arms around
his neck and I hear the cheering of the film crew around me.
I don’t want to let him go, so I keep kissing him. So long that
it’s comical, before he pulls back and asks. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I say, even though my voice is watery. There’s
cheering all over again as he puts the ring on my finger and
pulls me to him on the couch, holding me closer than before.
He presses a kiss to my temple, and I can’t stop smiling or
stop the tears from flowing.
“Okay, wow,” the interviewer says, “I did not expect
that.”
“I was keeping it a surprise,” Peter says.
I shake my head. “A damn good one, I had no idea.” Peter
laughs and kisses my cheek. I love when he gets like this,
because the way he’s constantly kissing me chastely means
that he’s dying to get me alone. To do more. It’s his way of
telling me. “I always knew we would get married,” I tell her,
“I just didn’t know when.”
“You always knew?”
“After all we’ve been through?” I look up at Peter. “Yeah.
Once he was back in my life, I knew it was for good.”
The interviewer thinks that’s a good spot to end it, so she
turns to camera and performs her outro, and I look down at
my ring, blazing like a galaxy of stars under the brilliant
lights.
She says congratulations to us, as does most of the crew
she brought with her, and it’s another half an hour before we
get out of there and to Peter’s car, where he jumps in and
starts to drive, my hand in his.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“I’m glad you were surprised.”
I shake my head. “Did you do that because you didn’t
think I would say yes if it was just us?”
 “Of course not,” he says softly. “I’m just very arrogant,
and want everyone to know how much I fucking love you.”
I laugh. “Or you wanted the ratings.”
“Honestly, it wasn’t that, though I fully expect that
interview to be amazing and for people to be knocking down
our door with projects. The truth is I was so nervous that it
was the only place I could surprise you, because I was acting,
and you weren’t expecting it. Any other place you would have
noticed my nerves, and it wouldn’t have worked.”
“Oh.”
Peter turns the car o in the driveway and is around to
my door faster than I can blink. He lifts me out of the car and
carries me into the house and up into our bedroom. We gave
up pretending that we lived in separate houses a few months
ago, and so far, it’s been amazing.
“I really like my ring,” I tell him as we’re on the stairs.
“Good,” he says, “because it’s going to be the only thing
that you’re wearing in a couple of minutes.”
I shiver, not knowing what’s coming next, but not caring.
I’m with Peter and we’re getting married. Happiness bubbles
up through my chest and I can’t believe it. I feel like I
swallowed a star and that the light is going to come leaking
out of me because I’m shining.
“I need to call my parents before that interview goes
live,” I say as Peter puts me down. “They’re still mad that
they found out we were together on the internet first. If I let
them find out you proposed on TV they’ll—” he shuts me up
with a kiss.
“You can call them later,” he says, “because right now, I
need you.”
His eyes are dark with hunger and I smile as I shrug out
of my shirt. “I thought you might. You kept kissing me at the
interview.”
“Only because I couldn’t do anything else.”
 I laugh again, but then he kisses me while stripping o
my bra, and I’m not laughing anymore. He steps back to
shed his own shirt and pants, and I shove mine o .
Peter nods to the bed, and I get on it. I love that we’re
reading each other’s cues, and we know each other so well
that we don’t have to talk it out. I want us to get so close that
we know what the other is thinking, and I know that we’ll
get there.
The last item to go is Peter’s underwear, and he’s already
rock hard. I want him, and whatever he’s going to choose for
tonight. He climbs onto the bed, prowling up to me like a
hunter and I’m the prey. I lay back so that he’s over me, let
him look at me, and the world falls away. It’s just him and
me.
“Spread your legs,” he says roughly, and I do. He thrusts
in in a single stroke and no matter how many times he does
it, I’ll never be ready. He’s too big and it takes my breath
away every time. He catches my mouth in a kiss, and I’m
dizzy with the lack of air as he consumes me. Everything
comes rushing back as he releases me and I breathe. I’m
squeezing down on him, feeling the fullness, measuring how
much of me he takes up.
It’s everything.
Peter grabs one of my hands, and then the other, taking
my wrists and pulling them outward and upward so we’re
both stretched. Then he tucks his feet under my legs and
pushes my legs apart until they won’t go further. He lowers
his weight onto me, and I gasp. It’s been a while since we’ve
done this. We’ve spent time fulfilling each other’s fantasies
and experimenting with new things. But I forgot about this.
How could I forget about this? It’s everything I need
wrapped up at once.
I moan into his ear, and he moves his hips. “Together,”
he says. Not just him, or just me, but both of us. Rocking
slowly at first and picking up speed, I’m so near of him. I can
feel the way he’s breathing because he’s pressed up against
me and I can feel his fingers in-between mine, my ring
squeezed against his finger. I can feel the delicious length
and thickness of his cock as he starts to fuck me in earnest.
And most of all, I can feel his attention equally on me.
This doesn’t just feel like sex, it feels like something
more. Like a claiming, and a promise from both of us to the
other. We’re breathing in sync, and I feel my pleasure rise to
meet his. He kisses me, and I can’t stop him, don’t want to
stop him. We’re in this together, and the wave of pleasure
surges upward and swallows me whole.
We’re moving together as one, faster and more desperate,
chasing each other’s orgasms until I scream into his mouth,
the dam breaking open and everything flowing out at once.
He comes too, his cock spilling heat into me as he pushes
further and deeper, and I’m quivering on him, pussy
gripping him, squeezing, every movement sending me
higher.
I open my eyes and see Peter looking down at me,
smiling. He looks just as happy as I am, glowing from the
inside. “Hi,” I say. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” And I don’t think I’ve ever heard words
from his mouth that are more true.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I breathe.
Peter kisses me softly, and I savor the feeling of his lips
on mine. “We’re going to have a wedding,” Peter says. “But
you’re already my wife. I don’t need a piece of paper to tell
me that.”
It rings true. I can’t imagine that a wedding license can
make this deeper, any more real. “Then I love you,
husband.”
“I love you wife.”
 I giggle, and that’s when I notice that he hasn’t moved.
That I’m still stretched underneath him and that his cock is
still fully hard inside me. “I think I might need some
celebration pancakes,” I say.
“I’ll be happy to oblige. Later.”
“Later?”
He grins, “Much later.”
And then he starts to move, and I’m lost in the pleasure
all over again.
Copyright © 2018 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no
part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any
form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is
completely coincidental.

Sign up HERE!
 1

OLLIE

The doorbell rings, and I internally groan. I’m not even sure
why I ordered food, I’m too sick to my stomach to eat. And I
don’t want to see anyone. Not even the delivery guy. Closing
my eyes, I lean my head back against the couch. Maybe if I
ignore him long enough, he’ll just leave the food by the door.
I’m in clothes that no one should ever witness me
wearing and probably would be better o in the trash: A t-
shirt that’s so worn it’s falling o my shoulders and ratty
sweatpants that would never be decent in public because
they have more holes than pants. But I didn’t want to put on
anything nicer. Not after tonight. These are the only clothes
worth wearing in my state of mind.
The doorbell rings again.
Just go away, I silently beg him. Leave the mozzarella
sticks and milkshake. Leave me to wallow in my self-pity.
But he rings the doorbell again, and then my phone starts to
buzz. Damn it. Answering the phone is even worse than
answering the door. I know it’s the just the unfortunate
person who’s trying to deliver my food, and I cringe.
“Hello?”
“Delivery.”
 “Yeah,” I say, my voice squeaking. “Can you just leave
the food by the door?”
There’s an uncomfortable pause. “Sorry, you have to sign
the receipt.”
“Oh,” I say. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”
Let’s get this fucking over with. I keep my blanket
wrapped around my shoulders so that my ratty clothes are
less visible, and go to the door. The guy is just standing there
with my food and I feel even worse for making him wait.
“Sorry,” I mutter, taking the receipt and not meeting his
eyes. I give him a good tip before sealing myself back on the
safe side of the door. My goal was no more humiliation for
tonight. Missed that shot for a mile.
I suppose it’s my own fault though, I didn’t have to go on
that date. In fact, Lorraine told me that it was a bad idea. But
he was cute and I hadn’t been on a date in a really long time.
I think it’s going to be another very long time before I risk
that again.
Sinking back into the couch and my cocoon of pillows, I
take a sip of the vanilla milkshake. Sweet bliss. I know that I
shouldn’t drown my sorrow with sugar and fried cheese, but
fuck it, I can go back to being healthy tomorrow.
I’m re-watching one of my favorite TV series—an overly
polite British reality show about amateur bakers. I mean,
amateur my ass. They may not get paid for their baking but
you better believe they’re experts. I’m the amateur. I can’t
make a cake that doesn’t come out lopsided. It doesn’t mean
that I don’t try, though.
Stupid moron, I say to myself. I’m not sure whether I’m
talking to myself or to Jason, my ill-fated date, but the
words fit regardless. I try to lose myself in an episode about
making the perfect identical little cakes, but the
embarrassment keeps rolling through my head like my brain
has the track on repeat.
 I thought it had been going well enough. We went to a
little Mexican place on the Lower East Side, and it was nice.
He was sweet and charming and the conversation was
flowing. He works for one of the larger law firms downtown,
and even though all of our interests didn’t align, enough of
them did. In my mind, it was one of the better first dates that
I’ve ever had. Until we walked to the subway.
With an e ort, I freeze the tape in my mind. I’d really
rather not relive it again, though I know it’s only a matter of
time.
A text buzzes on my phone, and I glance at the screen. It’s
Lorraine.

How did it go?

I roll my eyes. Of course she’s going to want to know. But she

can know later.
A couple of minutes later my phone buzzes again.

Ollie…

I turn the phone upside down on the other end of the couch.
It vibrates a couple more times, but I don’t look. It’s judging
time and I want to see how the raspberry mint cakes stack up
against the orange cardamom. Even if I already know the
answer.
There’s a knock on the door and I jump. Did the delivery
guy forget something?
Then a loud, brassy voice. “Ollie, it’s me. Let me in.”
 Fuck. Lorraine. “Go away!” I want to wallow in my
misery, and Lorraine isn’t going to let me do that.
There’s the sound of a key in the lock and I groan. The
door opens and her heels—Lorraine always wears heels—
click on my floor. “I should have never given you that key,” I
say.
“Yes, you should have,” she says as she comes around the
corner into the living room. She sees me in my nest of
blankets and my comfort food. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad.”
I defiantly dip another mozzarella stick into my marinara
sauce. “What are you doing here?”
She flops down onto the couch next to me, ignoring both
my glare and my personal space. “I was on my way home.
When you didn’t answer my texts, I wanted to see if you
were still out or if you were home. And here you are.”
“Here I am,” I say bitterly, taking a sip of milkshake.
“So what happened?”
The judges on TV think that the orange and cardamom
cakes are more successful, since the mint didn’t really come
through in the cake or the frosting. “I said I don’t want to
talk about it.”
“Too bad.”
“Lorraine, please,” I say, fighting o a sigh.
She puts her arm around my shoulders. “No. You know
why? Because you hold onto these things. You overthink
them, and bury them so you’re never able to let go. So you’re
going to tell me about it, and then I’m going to give you
some good news.”
“Can’t you give me the good news now?”
“Nope.” She steals a mozzarella stick and bites into it.
“I’m holding it hostage for your date story.”
 I dig through the blankets for the remote and pause the
show. Lorraine and I have been friends long enough that I
know she’s not going to give in. If I don’t start talking, she’s
just going to stare at me until I do. So I start talking. I tell
her about the beginning of the date and how cute he was and
how it seemed to be going well.
And then I get to the subway.
I take a deep breath. “Well, he was hot. And you know me,
I’m not the kind of person that goes home on the first date.
But it’s been…a while, and I thought, what the hell, let’s do
it. So we were standing there at the subway, and I was
wondering if he was going to kiss me or not, and I asked if he
wanted to go back to his place.” I shove another mozzarella
stick in my mouth.
“And?” Lorraine prods.
“And he laughed.”
She gasps, “What?”
“He laughed, and not like a little laugh. Like a big fucking
laugh. Like people on the next block probably heard him
crack up.”
“Geeze.”
I swallow. “And when he was done laughing, he told me
that he wasn’t looking for some kind of slut, and that even if
he was, I wasn’t really in his league. And then he asked if I
thought that it had really gone that well.”
Lorraine blinks. “Well fuck that guy.”
I laugh once, but it’s not really funny. “Yeah, fuck that
guy. Please don’t say that you told me so.”
“Oh please,” she says, “I thought it wasn’t a great idea
because he looked like a bro not because I thought he was
going to be a complete dick.”
“Yeah…”
She snuggles against me. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’d
hoped you weren’t answering my texts because you were
getting some. And seriously, fuck that guy. I bet he doesn’t
call himself a slut when he has first-date sex.”
“Probably not.”
Lorraine sits back up, curling her legs underneath her and
facing me. “Now for the good news. It’s gonna cheer you
up.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Saturday is our ten-year reunion.”
I think, and I’m drawing a blank. “For what?”
“For high school.”
My jaw drops. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not.”
“Why on earth would you think that that’s good news? Or
that it would cheer me up?”
“It’s not the reunion that’s going to cheer you up, but one
of the people going.”
I feel sick to my stomach. If I’d known Lorraine was going
to spring some sort of high school surprise on me, I wouldn’t
have eaten this much cheese. “Do I even want to know?”
“Adam Carlisle.”
My stomach drops, and in spite of myself, my pulse
jumps up so that it’s racing. “How do you know that?”
She pulls out her phone. “There’s a Facebook page for the
event. I’m sure they invited you.”
“They did,” I say, suddenly remembering. “I deleted it.”
“I figured. But I did a little stalking. Adam doesn’t post to
Facebook very much, but he does have an Instagram. And god
bless the fact that he does.”
She shoves the phone in my face, and I understand
immediately. Adam was hot in high school. And because he
was hot in high school, the fact that he’s even hotter now is
astonishing. There are several pictures of him at formal
events where his suits are perfectly tailored to his body, and
then there’s some…other pictures.
 Lorraine doesn’t hesitate—she blows up a picture of
Adam on the beach, diving for a volleyball. He’s shirtless,
and my mouth is suddenly dry. Adam was an athlete in high
school. Basketball. And he had a killer body then. His body
now would make his old body hang its head in shame. Even
flying through the air in the picture, every line of muscle is
visible. He’s pure power packed into a sleek package, and I
look away.
Even if I’ll never admit it, Adam has always been the guy.
He’s the star of every fantasy that I’ve ever had. And even
though I hadn’t seen that particular picture, I’ve definitely
looked him up over the years. I’m well aware of how panty-
meltingly gorgeous he is. I’ve had several pairs of panties
ruined from thoughts that follow that train. But it’s not a
good thing. I shouldn’t be hung up on a guy from high school
that for all I know helped orchestrate the single worst
moment of my life. It’s not healthy. I should really consider
therapy.
“He’s why you’re going to go with me.”
I laugh, and this time it’s real. “No, I am not.”
“Oh come on,” she begs, “It’ll be fun. Don’t you want to
see Adam again?”
I do. Oh, I do. I’d love the chance to see him in person. But
now, just as every time I’ve have that thought in the last ten
years, bright red embarrassment creeps in and I know that I
can’t ever face him again. “You know I can’t.”
“Ollie, all that was ten years ago. People probably don’t
remember, and if they do…it was high school, so who cares?”
“I care.”
“Listen, I think you deserve another chance at your high
school crush. Especially when your crush is this hot!” She
shoves the phone in front of my face for emphasis.
“He wasn’t my crush!” I say, probably too quickly. “I
just…liked him a little.”
 Lorraine rolls her eyes. “Girl, you were crushing so hard I
thought my ovaries were going to explode just by being in
your proximity. Yours were already toast.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t make it better. The last
time I saw him is when…everything happened. How do you
move past that?”
“Sasha is a bitch. She’s always been a bitch. That’s what
I’d tell everyone.”
“All that’s going to do is make me look bad.” I shove the
blanket o my lap and gather the trash from my food. “I’m
not going to go anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
Lorraine follows me. “Olllllllieeeeee,” she whines,
dragging my name out, pleading. “Don’t make me go alone.
Please? I’ll make sure you look so fucking fabulous that no
one is going to remember prom night.”
“Lor...”
“Please? Please? I swear it will be okay. If anyone says
anything to you, I’ll punch them in the face, and then no
one’s going to bother you because they’ll all be talking about
me. Please?”
She’s trying to make me laugh and it works. “You
promise?”
“I do. You’re going to be so hot, Adam is going to fall over
when he sees you.” I know that won’t happen, but my breath
catches and I find myself blushing. Lorraine squeals. “See? I
knew you wanted to see him.”
“Shut up,” I mumble under my breath.
She pulls me back into the living room. “Come on, we’ll
look at dresses through my portal on the site and tomorrow
you can come try them on.”
Lorraine is a personal shopper at Bergdorf Goodman, and
is undisputedly the best person in her department. Her
supervisors know it too. She can’t legally tell me, but I know
that she dresses her fair share of celebrities that live in New
York. So borrowing a couple of dresses for a class reunion?
No sweat given the amount of money that she makes for the
store.
My job is…far less glamorous. I’m an accountant. Don’t
get me wrong, I like my job. I like the comfort of numbers
and the way I can make them fall in line. And in a city with a
whole lot of numbers to make fall in line, I can’t complain—
I know that I’m a lot better o than many people in this city.
My best friend has already kicked o her shoes and
commandeered my laptop, logging into her shopping portal.
Part of the time she works from home, prepping what she’s
going to show her clients with a portal that has live listings
of the store’s stock.
By the time I sit down with my glass of water, she’s
already entered in my sizes and is scrolling through pages of
dresses. “Aren’t reunions usually less formal?” The dresses
she’s looking at belong on the runway and not in our old
high school gym.
“Do you remember high school at all?” Lorraine says,
playful sarcasm filling her voice. “Think about who went
there. You think there’s any chance that that group of people
is going to plan an event where you can show up in a t-shirt
and jeans?”
“I’d be the luckiest person on earth if they did.”
She laughs. “No. It’s at the Plaza.”
“Are you serious?” I shake my head. “Well, at least that’s
convenient.”
“Right?”
I lean back on the couch and let her go to work. She knows
what looks good on me better than I do anyway. It’s
amazing, I didn’t want to see anybody, and even though I’m
still upset, she’s made me feel better. “Thanks, Lor.”
“Anytime.”
 2

OLLIE

The lights in this mirror are so bright that they’re blinding

me, but the cheerful blonde girl applying make-up to my
face assures me that they’re necessary for her to work. Her
name is Maren and she works with Lor, who seems to have
disappeared for the moment.
I’m sitting in one of the make-up chairs at Bergdorf
Goodman, and letting all the stu that Lorraine has planned
unfold. She made me try on about a million dresses and
wouldn’t let me see how I looked in any of them, and
wouldn’t tell me which one she picked. If I didn’t absolutely
trust that she’s going to make me look fabulous, I’d be
freaking out right now.
Okay, I am freaking out right now, but not because of the
dress. In an hour I’m going to walk across the street to the
Plaza and into a ballroom of former classmates. I’ll probably
throw up all over the dress Lor’s picked. I hope that’s within
her discretionary budget.
I’m trying to breathe. It must not be working because
Maren asks, “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” The high pitch of my voice makes it clear that I’m
not. “Just nervous.”
 “Honey, after I’m done with you, you’ll have nothing to
be nervous about.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” I say. “It’s just that the last time I saw
all of these people something really… I’m not looking
forward to it.”
I open my eyes for a second and she nods, understanding.
“Well, we’ll make sure you look great. You give them hell.”
I laugh. “I’ll try.”
My hair is already done, and the stylist managed to style
my hair in a way I always wished it could look but never
accomplished myself. It’s a simple style, falling in waves
down my back with the sides twisted away from my face. I
only get a glimpse of myself before she waves my eyes closed
again, but Maren knows what she’s doing.
She’s brushing my face and lining my lips and I go into a
zen-like zone while I let her work. I nearly jump out of my
skin when I hear Lorraine’s voice. “How are we doing in
here?”
“Geeze, Lorraine.”
“Sorry,” she grins. “Business voice. You look great!”
I glance toward the mirror, and she’s right. My eyes look
bigger and more green than they usually are. She picked a
deep berry color for my lips that I never would have chosen
for myself. The e ect is amazing. “Thank you,” I say to
Maren.
“No problem.”
Lorraine guides me to dressing rooms. These aren’t your
typical dressing rooms; they’re extra luxurious and usually
reserved for the store’s A-list clients. “You’re going to look
so badass,” she says, pointing to a room.
Behind the curtain I find an icy blue silk dress, and freeze.
“Lor?”
“Yeah?” her voice is mu ed across the room in her own
alcove.
 “What is this?”
I can practically hear her eyes roll. “It’s your dress.”
“I didn’t try anything like this on.”
She slides back the curtain already undressed to her
underwear and it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “No, you didn’t
try that dress on. But it came in after you’d already left and I
knew that it would be perfect. And,” she says, holding out a
finger before I interrupt, “if you absolutely hate it and want
to set yourself on fire, I have a back-up dress. But you’re not
going to hate it. It’s perfect.” She slides the curtain shut, and
I know that I’m going to lose this fight.
I take a closer look at the dress. It’s beautiful. Turning it
on the hanger, I see that this dress is backless. The thin
beaded straps that I saw from the front fall all the way to the
waist of the dress where it catches the drape. Is she crazy?
But I put the dress on. Lorraine has decided she wants to
see me in this dress. So I’ll show her and tell her I want
something di erent.
I slide back the curtain and walk to one of the pedestals
that are framed by three-pane mirrors. And the sight of
myself in the dress makes me freeze again.
Damn it. The fact that Lor is so, so right is going to make
her day. Her year.
It’s not only that it’s a gorgeous dress, it’s that it’s the
dress. There’s a book series that Lor and I loved as teenagers.
She’s kind of moved on. I haven’t. I still love World’s Waterfall
and I re-read it regularly, still hoping that the series will be
finished before I’m too old to read it or the author dies. But
there’s a scene in one of the books—the scene that everyone
talks about where the hero and heroine finally get together—
and she’s wearing a dress that is described a lot like this.
I won’t lie, the fact that I look like her is making me freak
out inside. There’s an excitement building in my chest that I
wasn’t expecting. Outside, I’m still frozen, standing and
looking at myself in the mirror.
Lorraine comes out of her dressing room in her own
dress, sees me and breaks into a huge smile. “Oh. My. God.
You look fucking fantastic.”
“Lorraine, you know that this is the dress.”
“I know,” she grins. “When it came in, I just knew. I knew
you had to have that dress.”
I shake my head, looking back at my reflection. I look like
I always imagined the heroine would, beautiful and ethereal.
But how can I take this, the way I look and feel, into a
situation that’s sure to blow up into a massive shit storm?
When I say as much to Lorraine, she rolls her eyes.
“Girl, you are wearing that dress. And I believe that the
power of that dress will overcome anything bad that could
possibly happen. And if people are idiots, I’m going to take
you out and we’ll paint the town blue with you in that dress
because we’re not wasting it.”
“Okay.” I’m not totally convinced, but her enthusiasm
makes me want to believe.
I slide into the silver shoes that she put in my dressing
room and switch my essentials into my clutch. We’re leaving
the rest of our stu here. Lor will get it later. I guess there’s
not anything else to do except…go to the party.
Lorraine loops her arm in mine and I brace myself. I hope
I don’t regret this.
 3

ADAM

I’m honestly not sure why I’m here. Sure, the Plaza is
beautiful, but there aren’t a lot of people from high school
that I want to see. A couple, maybe, but this party is way over
the top.
The minute I walked into the ballroom I felt out of place. I
never felt like I belonged in this crowd of people when I was
seventeen, I sure don’t feel like I fit in now that everyone has
grown up to be richer and more pretentious.
A girl waves at me from across the room. I smile and nod,
but I don’t remember her. Heading over to the bar, I wait in
the line avoiding eye contact with anyone. My father thought
it would be a good idea for me to come, show my face to
some of my now-famous classmates. Everyone who went to
my school is someone now—or at least it feels that way.
“Adam Carlisle!” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn
to find Trent Bingham—one of the few people I was close
with in high school, though we haven’t seen each other in
years. I’m not going to admit how relieved I am to see a
familiar face.
I clap him on the back as well. “Hey, man. How are you?”
“Pretty good,” he says as we move forward in the line.
“Absolutely hating this. You?”
 “Oh, I’m having the time of my life,” I deadpan.
He laughs. “Yeah, I thought so. What are you up to now?”
“Medicine,” I say.
“You actually did it. Congrats. That’s huge! What’s your
specialty?”
We’ve reached the bar now, and I order a whiskey.
“Pediatrics.”
Trent shakes his head, “The women must love you.”
I squash down a grimace. “I do all right.” I’d rather not
talk about that complicated part of my life right now. “What
are you doing?”
“Finance. Pretty standard answer in this room I’d
imagine.”
“Probably,” I chuckle, “But it’s still a good one.” I raise
my glass to him, and he cheers as well.
Walking away from the bar, we find a table near the dance
floor, which is empty. We’re still in the eating and mingling
phase of the party.
“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here. You were never
one for parties.”
“No,” I shake my head. “You’re right. It was suggested I
might want to show my face to all the fancy people to make
sure my reputation and public profile get a boost.” I resist
the urge to roll my eyes, but I smile. Trent was one of the
guys I could always be real with, and even in the couple
minutes we’ve been back together it feels that way again.
He’s always had a gift for making people feel comfortable
and open, something I imagine comes in handy in the
finance world.
“Ah, yes,” Trent says, putting on a tone. “So that big
investors like me will be impressed by your work in the
pediatric field and make a generous donation to your
hospital.”
“Precisely.”
 The band starts up a new song, and a memory hits me like
a wave—prom night. That was probably one of the strangest
nights of my life. There’s a commotion by the door and I
look over and my whole body goes cold, then hot. Olivia
Mitchell is standing in the doorway.
I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. Nobody thought we’d
ever see her again. But there she is, alive and… beautiful.
And then she looks right at me. It feels like my heart
stops. This song, looking at each other. It feels all too
familiar, and I don’t think that I can keep still.
I glance over at Trent. “Excuse me.”
He follows my gaze and smiles. “It’s about time, man.
Go.”
I leave my whiskey at the table, and I head straight for
her. It’s like I’m being pulled, and she’s looking at me like
I’m the last person she expected to see. I hope that I’m not
the last person that she wanted to see. Olivia. Ollie. It’s been
a long time, and there are emotions welling up inside my
chest that I haven’t examined in a long time.
The first step is to say hello, Adam. Don’t get ahead of
yourself.
It’s shallow, but I’m stunned by how gorgeous she looks.
Ollie was always beautiful in a quiet way, but it’s not quiet
tonight. I try to pull my eyes away from the blue dress
hugging her amazing body or else my dick is going to be as
hard as granite. But holy fuck do I want to look and never
stop looking.
She looks away from me and suddenly I can breathe
again. And then I can’t, because Sasha is walking up to her.
Shit. I change my course across the ballroom. I’m going to
talk to Olivia, I have to, but not while Sasha is there. Not
after…everything. I look back and our eyes meet again.
Somehow I manage to give her a small smile. I’m bummed
I’ll have to wait to talk to her, but at least it gives me a
chance to figure out what I’m going to say.
I walked into this ballroom dreading this night. Now I’m
not sure if there’s any place that I’d rather be.
 4

OLLIE

I was right. I think I’m going to be sick. The air outside

Bergdorf’s is that rare perfect New York summer. The breeze
is cool and you feel magic and possibility in the air. Right.
Magic. But I’ve already seen three people from my high
school class walk into the doors in front of us, and I’m not
feeling so magical anymore.
Lorraine has a firm grip on my arm, and I know that she’s
not going to let me fall. It’s comforting. And then we’re
walking inside and I can’t breathe. “Ollie,” Lor says softly,
“chill. You’re fine.”
She’s right. I am fine.
Totally fine.
There’s a cluster of people around the entry table with
everyone’s name tags. I notice a girl in a vibrant yellow
dress. Her name is Diana and she was one of the people who
was nice to me despite me being a total nerd.
She catches my eye and the does a double-take of
recognition. The rest of the group follows her gaze and
suddenly I’m being stared at by seven people. It feels like a
thousand, and blood rushes to my face. Turning away
quickly, I follow Lor—who’s already pinning on her name
tag—and step up to the table.
 “Olivia Mitchell.”
The girl sitting behind the table looks up suddenly, and
then I watch as her eyes drift deliberately down to my wrists
and back. That’s… weird. She shakes her head. “Sorry. Here
you go!” The smile she puts on is overly cheerful.
I pin the name tag to the jewel strap of my dress and join
Lor at the edge of the ballroom. “Did you see the way she
looked at me?”
“Not everyone is looking at you, Ollie,” she rolls her eyes.
The minute she says my name, heads spin. The people
standing by the entrance see me, and their eyes go wide. I
see people turn and whisper, and the next row turn and
whisper. Even with the music, you can hear it, the hushed
tones of my arrival being announced. This is what I was
afraid of.
“Okay,” Lorraine says, “I guess they’re looking at you
now.”
“Thanks, I noticed.”
She loops her arm through mine again. “No matter,” she
says. “We’re going in and we’re going to be absolutely
fucking fabulous!” She says it loud enough that all the
people whispering can hear.
Then it happens. The first notes of the song from prom
night start to play, and I feel like I’m being pulled into a
vortex of sound and memory. Right there, across the room,
is Adam Carlisle, and he’s looking right at me.
I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming, right?
My stomach drops into free-fall. He looks amazed,
shocked, but not unhappy. I know that I’m dreaming now.
And then he gets up and starts walking toward me.
Lorraine sees him too. “Did I tell you or did I tell you?
Girl.”
“He’s not coming over to talk to me,” I say. But I can tell
that he is. I just can’t believe it.
 He’s looking at me. At me. Like I’m the only thing he sees,
and every feeling that I had in high school comes rushing
back. Lor was absolutely right. I had the biggest crush on
him. I was utterly in love with him, and I might still be, just
a little bit.
How can this be happening right now? Maybe everything
is magic tonight: this dress, the weather outside, Adam. But
then again, everything once seemed magical before. And
then it all went wrong, and there’s nothing that can ever
change that.
 5

OLLIE
SENIOR YEAR

The sound of bouncing basketballs is echoing loudly in my

ears, but I don’t mind. I’ll sit through it if I have to in order
to watch Adam. If Lorraine were here, she’d roll her eyes, but
I can’t get enough of watching the way he moves. Every
move is so confident and smooth, and I wish I were more
like that.
The game is in full swing, and even though this isn’t my
normal scene, I find myself enjoying it. Though it’s fair to
say that I don’t think that I’d be enjoying basketball as much
without my particular brand of eye-candy. I don’t really
know when my crush on Adam started, only that it’s been
growing more and more out of control. I see him when I
watch movies and read books. When my eyes close, I imagine
him kissing me. I dream about it too.
I imagine him catching me as he’s leaving school and
pulling me around the building to the area where the old
trees cast shade and beautiful patterns on the brick walls of
the courtyard. He shares a smile with me—like we’re both in
on a secret—and puts a finger to his lips. We wait, hidden
together while the school empties, and his fingers slowly
curl around mine.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Adam says.
 I pretend that I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“What?”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tilts my chin up and
closes the distance between us. I close my eyes as his lips
touch mine, and I feel like I’m flying and falling and shaking
and that I’ll never be the same. It’s perfect, and I never want
it to—
I jump as soda splashes down onto my head and onto my
copy of World’s Waterfall.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” An overly sweet voice says.
Sasha Green sits down next to me and dabs at the book and
my hair with her napkin. She’s still in her jazz dance
costume from half time, and she’s looking at me with
concern. “Are you okay? I must have slipped.”
That’s odd, because it’s a fact that Sasha is the best
dancer in the school. She doesn’t slip. But I nod. After being
startled out of that particular fantasy, I don’t really want to
talk to anyone. But she doesn’t move on. Instead she sits
next to me and pulls the book out of my hands. “What are
you reading?”
I don’t have the chance to answer because she turns the
book over and scans the back, and I can already see her face
pulling into a grimace. The crowd around us cheers and I
look toward the court to see Adam jogging away from the
basket with a smile on his face. He scored.
“Wow, that’s a big smile,” Sasha says cheerfully. I hadn’t
realized I was smiling at him, and I make sure to make my
face go blank. “Aww, it’s okay,” she says, putting the book
back into my lap. “You like him.”
“He’s a nice guy,” I say, still hoping that she’ll go away.
But Sasha Green isn’t a person that you ask to go away.
Doing that just means you’ll be the target of the popular
crowd for a month.
 She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean
that you like him like him.”
“No, I don’t.”
“It’s okay if you do,” she says sweetly. “It’s cute.”
I try to shake my head, to form the words to stop this. The
last thing I need is for it to get back to Adam that I have a
crush on him. I would die. Actually and literally die. “It’s not
like that.”
Sasha tilts her head. “That’s too bad. There’s nothing
wrong with liking someone. How do you think Adam would
feel if he knew that you don’t like him?”
My face flushes, and my body goes hot. I can feel myself
start to panic, and I know that I need to leave. I’m not sure
how she’s managed to do it—turn my words back on me
twice—but it’s safer if I leave. “I—I have to go.”
“So soon?” She gives me a smile that looks friendly on
the surface.
I grab my bag o the bleachers and edge my way past
some people to the stairs. The game is close to the end and
people are so caught up in it that they don’t even notice me
going by. As soon as I’m away from Sasha, I feel a little
better. I don’t know what that was about, but I don’t like it.
Bad things happen when people like Sasha pay attention to
people like me.
I look back, and Sasha is still watching me with a sickly
sweet smile. She waves, and I speed up, wanting to get out of
her orbit as quickly as possible. The world spins and
suddenly I’m falling, my bag and books slip and I slam face
first into the gym floor.
There’s a collective gasp, and I don’t move. Everything
hurts, but I’m not sure that it hurts more than the fact that I
know everyone in the gym is looking at me. I can feel blood
coming from my nose—I should get up. Get some ice. Hide
for the rest of eternity. This is a good to-do list.
 I start to push myself up, and suddenly there’s a hand
grasping my arm, helping me to stand. I’m blushing bright
red, but I know I have to thank whoever it is. But my mouth
is dry and suddenly I’m shaking. It’s Adam.
He looks concerned, actual and real concern and oh my
god I can’t believe he’s seeing me like this. I press my hand
to my nose to try to stop the blood, but it’s already over.
There are tears welling in my eyes and I try to blink them
away because I don’t want him to see me cry too.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“I…I don’t know.” I’m very much not all right. I’ll never
be able to show my face in school again.
Suddenly I hear footsteps running toward me. “Ollie!” It’s
Lorraine, coming from across the gym where the
cheerleaders are sitting.
Adam leans down and gathers my things. He puts my
books and pens back in my bag and gently puts the bag back
on my shoulder. I can’t move as he does it. Then he hands
me my now soda-stained and bloody copy of World’s
Waterfall. He gives me a small smile. “Do you like it?”
I’m a little star-struck. Adam Carlisle helped me. He’s so
close to me. “What?”
“The book.”
“Oh,” I say as Lorraine arrives next to me. “Yeah, I do.”
“I hope you get the chance to finish it soon.”
I can only nod, and he smiles again as Lorraine takes my
arm and leads me away towards the doors and the nurse. The
mistake I make is looking back, and noticing how the whole
school is watching me walk away with blood down my face
and shirt. By the time we’re outside the doors of the gym, I
can’t hold back the tears anymore, but Lor doesn’t stop to
comfort me, guiding me straight to the nurse’s o ce. Then
she pulls me into a hug. “It’s okay.”
 “It’s really, really not,” I say. “Sasha was already up to
something, and this is only going to give her more fuel.
People are going to stare at me for weeks, and Adam—” I
hiccup, and flinch as the nurse is cleaning up my nose,
seeing if it’s broken. “Adam probably thinks I’m a total spaz
now. He’s seen me bloody and crying. That’s really sexy.”
Lorraine rolls her eyes. “Girl, I love you but sometimes
you’re stupid as hell.”
The nurse gives her a look, and I’m staring at my best
friend in shock. “I’m sorry?”
“Didn’t you see what Adam did?”
I wince as the nurse puts some antiseptic on the
scratches. “No, I was a little busy flat on my face in front of
the whole school.”
“We were about to win. Adam had the ball and was about
to score, and then you fell. He dropped the ball and ran o the
court when you fell. The game didn’t stop, the other team
took the ball and scored and we lost.”
I think my heart stops in my chest. “What?”
“Adam threw the game to help you. So if you think that he
cares about the blood on your face, you need to get your head
on straight.”
My heart is pounding now. Lorraine has no reason to lie
about that. But if it is true, what does it mean?
 6

OLLIE
PRESENT DAY

Like being conjured out of that memory, Sasha suddenly

appears in front of me, a giant smile on her face. “Hi!” She
wraps me in a giant hug that I absolutely do not want to be a
part of and I hold my breath until she lets me go.
Lorraine is staring at her like she’s an absolute idiot, and
even though I’m uncomfortable, I have to try hard not to
laugh. That day on the basketball court was not the only, or
even the worst, thing that Sasha did to me. There was the
time she accidentally ruined my work in art class, got me
blamed for a low score on a group project that was entirely
her fault, started multiple rumors about me that resulted in
more than one horrifying lunch hour, and of course, prom.
And those are just the ones that are coming to mind now.
“Oh. My. God,” Sasha says. “I love your dress.”
Lor steps closer. “It’s Marchesa.”
“Well it’s working on you.” She smiles again. “How are
you? I’ve missed you. It’s been so long!”
There’s a phantom pain in my nose, and I touch the
bridge of it, remembering that day in the gym. It has been so
long, but I sure as hell haven’t missed her. But I don’t get the
same vibe from her that I got in high school. She seems more
genuine, like she’s actually excited about being here. “Good
to see you, Sasha.”
She waves to someone across the room. “I have to go say
to hi to Corey, but I totally want to catch up! I’ll swing back
around.” She blows us a kiss and floats away toward a group
of girls that look like they might be from her old clique.
“Fake bitch,” Lor says with an eye-roll.
“I don’t know. She seemed a lot more genuine. I suppose
it’s possible that in the last ten years she’s changed.”
Lor shakes her head. “Girls like Sasha don’t change. They
think the world is something they can manipulate, and they
never stop trying to do it.”
“Maybe.” I like to believe that people can change. That
people do change. If not, that’s just kind of depressing. Now
that I’m here, I need a drink. I definitely need a drink. I point
to the bar, and Lor nods. I’ll find her once I’ve waited in line
and have something that’s going to dull my senses a little
bit.
Luckily the line isn’t too long right now—the Plaza
bartenders are on top of it.
“Olivia.”
I turn, and my feet drop through the floor. It’s Adam.
Adam is here, so close to me, and that same memory from
the gym overwhelms me. That’s the last time we were this
close. I can’t help how breathless I sound. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Then he grins. “I’m really glad you came. Honestly
I didn’t think you would.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t planning on it. Lorraine convinced me.”
“Good thing she did.”
My body lights up with joy because he wanted to see me.
But then I go cold. Is he making fun of me? Is this some kind
of joke with Sasha? If Lorraine is right and people like Sasha
never change, then what if Adam is the same too? What if
it’s all another cruel joke?
 “How have you been?” he asks quietly, and he glances
down toward my hands. I stretch my fingers and the bracelet
Lor gave me jingles. Probably just distracted by it.
I nod. “Pretty good. I was…very nervous about coming
here.”
“Why?”
I laugh. “You really have to ask that?”
“I suppose not.”
“I have a life I really like,” I say, word vomit spilling out
of me before I can stop it. “I moved on from all of this, so I
wasn’t sure that I wanted to bring that back into my life.”
“I get that,” he says, and for a second we’re quiet. I move
forward a place in line and Adam moves with me, hands in
his pockets. “Listen, I—”
“ADAM!” There are whoops and hollers and I stumble out
of the way as we’re swarmed by four members of what used
to be the basketball team. A bunch of guys surround Adam,
giving him overly amped up hugs and clapping him on the
back. He looks as startled as I do, and I wish we hadn’t been
interrupted. I wanted to hear what he has to say.
Adam glances at me apologetically, and says hello to his
friends. It’s at that moment that they all decide to notice
that I’m standing there. “Damn, Olivia!” It’s coming from a
guy whose name I think is Brandon. “You got hot.”
“Yeah, when did that happen?” Another guy asks. “I’d be
happy to take you home and—”
“Okay.” Adam interrupts.
Oh my god. Oh my god I can’t win. I have guys telling me
I’m not attractive enough to spend the night with and then I
have assholes telling me how fuckable I am because I have a
pretty face.
“Come with us,” Brandon says. “We trying to get the
Plaza to set up a hoop at that end of the ballroom and get the
band back together.”
 A third from the group puts his hand on Adam’s shoulder
and tries to guide him away, but he shrugs the hand o . “No
thanks, guys. I’m in the middle of a conversation. I’ll catch
up with you later.”
“Seriously?” guy number three asks. Jason, maybe? And
then he whispers far too loudly for me not to hear. “I mean, I
know she’s hot, but it’s Olivia Mitchell.”
I feel myself flush red, and I watch Adam’s face go white
with anger. “Fuck o , man.”
The guy backs up, hands raised in surrender. “Whatever.
Come find us when you want some fun.” He looks me up and
down, and I feel sick, the look on his face somehow
conveying want and disgust at the same time.
“Go,” Adam says, and they leave. One of them nearly trips
over a chair. It’s possible that they might be drunk already.
“Are you all right?”
Again, I’m having déjà vu. He said those same words to
me that day in the gym. I couldn’t believe that he intervened
for me then, and I’m honestly having a hard time believing
that he did it just now. It seems like way too good to be true.
“I guess so,” I say. “Thank you for doing that. It was
uncomfortable.”
“No kidding.” He shakes his head.
Finally up to the bar, I order a glass of wine. When I turn
around, Adam is right there, so close. Closer than he was
standing just a second ago. He reaches out and takes my
hand. “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s all right. About that
night and some other stu . But I’d like to do it where we
won’t be interrupted again.”
My heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m not sure that I
can breathe or speak right now so I just nod. He looks down
again, holding up my hands and sweeping his thumb across
my wrists. “Thank you.”
 I’m not sure about the wrist thing. Maybe he’s developed
a wrist fetish in the last ten years, but honestly I’ve heard of
weirder stu and there’s nothing at all in this moment that’s
going to stop me from saying yes.
Adam guides me toward the door and that perfect
summer air. From across the room I see Lorraine’s jaw drop
open. I manage to send her a tiny wave before we disappear
out of the ballroom through a balloon arch that’s way too
similar to the one that was at prom. The last time I saw
Adam.
 7

OLLIE
PROM NIGHT

“Tighter.” Lorraine pushes out all the air in her lungs, and I
try to pull the laces of her corset tighter.
“I really think that’s it,” I say.
She sighs. “Fine, I suppose that’s good.” She reaches
insider the top edge of the crimson corset and adjusts her
boobs so that they’re practically falling out of it.
I look at myself in the mirror. The dress I ended up
choosing is purple, and it’s pretty much the opposite of
Lorraine’s. Mine has a lacy collar around the neck and no
cleavage. It’s floor length too. I really love the way this dress
looks, but I don’t want the attention that Lorraine does. I
didn’t even want to come, really. My nose is still healing
from the last event I attended with the whole school.
“Ollie, relax. Try to have fun.”
“I will.”
“You could dance with Adam.”
I immediately flush bright red, “That’s not going to
happen.”
“Fine. But I’m still saying that you could.” She smirks at
me in the mirror. “I promise that we can dance with each
other later. Just as soon as I finish dancing with Joey
Lancaster. He’s going to notice how fucking sexy I look
tonight.” Those last words are more for her than for me.
“I’ll hold you to it,” I say.
“Perfect,” she says, sweeping out the door. “Wish me
luck!”
“Luck,” I say softly even though she’s already gone. I run
some water over my hands, hesitating. All night people have
been asking me how my nose is. If they were just asking me
how I’m doing it would be fine. It’s the laughter after they
ask that gets me. But Lorraine is right, if I’m already here, I
might as well try to go out and enjoy it.
The hallway of the school is dark, and I can hear the
music thumping in the gym as I head down the hall. Sasha is
in the doorway and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her look so
pissed. I’m thinking about ducking back down the hallway
when she spots me. Instantly her entire face changes. “Hi,
Ollie!”
I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Sasha say my name before,
but it sounds strange. Only people who know me really well
call me Ollie. Finishing the length of hallway before I reach
the door feels like it takes forever. I’m kind of hoping that I
can just go inside and she doesn’t want to talk to me, but of
course I don’t have that kind of luck.
She holds something out to me. “Will you sign my
yearbook?”
“Uh, now?”
“Of course! When will there be another time with so many
of the upperclassmen in one place?”
She has a point, and I take the book and pen from her.
Snow days and unexpected repairs to part of the gym pushed
our prom back a bit. We’re almost done with classes and
everybody’s gotten their yearbooks. I flip to my senior
portrait and go to write something, but the pen is sticky.
Glancing down at my hand, I see that my fingers are now
stained with glittery blue dye. I go ahead and start writing.
‘Happy graduation, wishing you the best.’
“By the way, your pen is leaking,” I say, holding up my
hand.
She grabs it and looks closer at my fingers. “Oh god, I’m
sorry!”
“It’s okay.” I pull my wrist out of her grasp. Suddenly
Lorraine appears at my side and she’s tugging on my arm.
“Dance with me!”
I wave bye to Sasha as I’m pulled into the crowd of
dancers. “You looked like you could use a rescue,” she says.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Now I’m going back to dance by Joey.”
She dances away from me and I slip back out of the
dancers, keeping an eye out for Sasha so that she doesn’t see
that I’m not dancing. I take up a post near the refreshment
table and get myself some punch. It’s not lost on me that I’m
quite the cliché. But I can’t say that I’m not enjoying it.
I watch from the sidelines as Lorraine finally does get her
chance to dance with Joey. The look of sheer joy on her face
is one that I will never forget. A couple of times I think that
I’m about to be asked to dance, but it’s never me. That’s
fine, I like watching everyone. I like seeing the connections
form and break and come back together.
And of course, I watch Adam. He dances with a few girls,
but also spends a good amount of time on the sidelines. He
doesn’t seem like he’s quite comfortable, and I totally get it.
I’m not comfortable either.
Later in the night the music stops, and the librarian Mrs.
Marsden takes the stage. “It’s about that time everybody!
Time for us to find out who’s King and Queen of the prom.”
She waves two white envelopes in the air. “First, our King.”
She tears open the envelope and pulls out a piece of paper.
Immediately she breaks into a wide smile. “Adam Carlisle!”
 The gym bursts into cheers, and I join them. It’s not
surprising to me at all that Adam is prom king. He’s
gorgeous and the star of the basketball team, and tonight the
tuxedo that he’s wearing makes me feel faint, the same way
they say that Victorian ladies swoon. I wish that I could be
the one standing up with him, the one that gets to dance
with him. But that won’t happen, because I don’t even think
half the people in this room know that I’m here. Adam
certainly doesn’t.
He makes his way to the stage and gets crowned. His
smile lights up the room and he waves to the crowd in a
mock gesture of a king to his kingdom, and everybody
laughs.
“And now for the queen.” She tears open the second
envelope, but she doesn’t break into a smile this time.
Instead she looks confused. “Well, this is a surprise. Olivia
Mitchell!”
I freeze. What?
The entire gym goes silent, so that all you can hear is the
pop song in the background. And then the whispers start,
and people looking around for me. Oh god. Someone spots
me and a path forms between the stage and me . Adam looks
confused, and a spike of pain goes through my chest. I mean,
I never expected to be voted queen, but the fact that he
thinks I couldn’t or shouldn’t be…hurts.
Someone next to me whispers, “Olivia, go.”
I find myself walking slowly towards the stage even
though I can’t feel my feet. This can’t possibly be right, can
it? Did my wish that I could dance with Adam as his queen
somehow reach the universe? I look around and everyone
seems as confused as I am. They’re staring and whispering,
and I think I might be sick.
But then I look at Adam again, and he smiles. It’s a
miracle, and I find myself smiling back. Because if this is
true, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and the best moment
of my life. Stepping onto the stage, I cross to Mrs. Marsden,
who puts the silver tiara on my head. “Everyone give it up
for our King and Queen, Adam and Olivia!” There’s half-
hearted clapping from the crowd. “They’ll now have their
first dance.”
Adam takes my hand and I can’t breathe. “Ready to
dance?” he asks softly.
“Yeah.”
We move o of the stage and into the middle of the dance
floor where everyone has formed a circle, and we’re in the
center spotlight. I can’t believe this is actually happening.
Adam pulls me close, puts a hand on my waist, and if I
wasn’t sure that I would kill myself for missing this
moment, I think I would faint.
“Stop!” An angry voice comes from across the gym, and
then Sasha barges into the circle followed closely by Mr.
Andrews, another of the chaperones. She’s looking straight
at me, and I recognize that same burning anger I saw in the
hallway earlier. “Olivia Mitchell is not prom queen.”
I just blink at her. “What?”
“She cheated. She switched her name in the envelope. It’s
supposed to be me.”
Still on stage, Mrs. Marsden clears her throat into the
microphone. “That’s a serious accusation, Sasha. Do you
have proof?”
Sasha sco s, walking over to the stage. “Of course I do.
Look at the way the name on that paper is written. That blue
ink.”
“What about it?”
The way she’s looking at me, now I know how a bug feels
that’s about to be stepped on. “I saw her coming from the
hallway near the o ces earlier, and I saw something else.”
She comes to me and rips my hand out of Adam’s, holding it
up for people to see. Suddenly I understand and I’m
lightheaded. I really do think I might pass out. The blue ink
is still on my fingers from when I signed her book. Lorraine
pulled me onto the dance floor and I didn’t go back to the
bathroom to wash it o . She set me up.
“See?” Sasha says, a smug smile on her face. “She wrote
her name herself.”
Mr. Andrews looks uncomfortable, but he steps forward.
“I’m sorry, Olivia, but I wrote Sasha’s name myself, and I
did it in black ink.”
“It’s not true,” I say.
“What was that?” She asks.
I swallow, trying to hold myself together. I’m flushed and
shaking and I can feel tears dangerously close. This isn’t the
way this is supposed to happen. “It’s not true. You asked me
to sign your yearbook with that pen.” I look at Mr. Andrews.
“Look at her yearbook. You’ll see that I’m right.”
He doesn’t have the chance to respond because Sasha
starts laughing. A bold, loud laugh that fills the gym. I see
small smiles cracking on people’s faces, some of them
covering them with their hands. She’s winning them over.
“Isn’t that cute? Everyone in the school knows that you’re in
love with Adam. It makes perfect sense that you’d do
anything you possibly could do dance with him.”
I don’t dare look back at him. Not now. I don’t want to
know. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do this,” I say. I look at people
in the crowd. I look at the teachers. “I didn’t even want to
come to prom,” I said. “I came with a friend. I didn’t…” I
trail o because there’s not one person who seems to believe
me. “How does Sasha even know that my name was written
in blue ink? How would she know that if she hadn’t seen the
envelope herself?”
Just for a second, I think I’m making progress. I see some
people try to think about that, but Sasha doesn’t let them
finish the thought. “Ollie, you’re nothing but a cheater. I
mean, I understand why you did it,” she sounds sympathetic,
but she’s really not, “but it’s pathetic.” She rips the tiara o
my head, and I wince as it tears at my hair. “I think it’s time
for you to go.”
“But—”
“CHEATER!” she yells it in my face.
I try to say something. It’s not true. “I’m not—”
“CHEATER!”
A tear slips out, and I can’t breathe. She’s not going to let
me talk or defend myself. She put this together so perfectly
that no one is going to question her. “Please,” I say, but no
one hears it. Sasha is chanting the word now, and other
people have joined her. There’s pain in my chest, and I
can’t…I can’t…
I look back at Adam, and he looks disappointed. Like he
doesn’t know what to think of me, and I feel my heart
fracture in two. I run, and the crowd parts for me. I’m not
sure how I make it to the doors, because I can’t see anything.
I’ve never felt this kind of pain before and I don’t know
what to do. Somehow I make it to my car, and I collapse into
the backseat, letting tears and pain consume me. What did I
ever do to make people want to treat me like this? Why
couldn’t Sasha just leave me alone?
If I never see any of these people again, it’ll be too soon.
 8

OLLIE
PRESENT DAY

The air is still perfect, and Adam doesn’t let go of my hand

until we’re outside and across the street to the square with
trees and a fountain by the Plaza. It’s a strange kind of place,
dark in the middle of New York’s brilliance. Somehow all the
noise doesn’t seem to reach right here, and it feel like we’re
completely alone.
“How have you been, really?”
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I make a face. “Why?”
Adam scratches the back of his neck, “I was worried
about you.”
I’m still not getting it. “But why?”
“It’s really good to see you,” he says. “I’m glad that
you’re doing well.”
“Yeah.”
He puts his hands in his pockets. “So what did you decide
to do after high school?”
“College,” I say. Then I laugh. “I’m kidding. I did go to
college, but I’m an accountant now. Super sexy, I know.”
“That’s great,” he says. “Seriously. I would be lost
without my accountant. They get a bad rap but I think most
people would fall apart without people who actually
understand tax law.”
“I do get a lot of very nice thank you gifts around tax
season.”
He laughs. “Anything else? Are you seeing anyone?”
There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him about my
nerdy single existence. The life that’s not glamorous like
tonight. The one where I stay home reading books and
watching Netflix and occasionally going on dates with men
who don’t find me attractive. “Well, that’s not fair,” I say.
“Don’t I get to hear about your career too?”
Adam looks suddenly shy. “I’m finishing up the last year
of my residency, I graduate next year.”
“Residency as in doctor? Wow!”
“You seem surprised,” he says, chuckling.
“I mean, I am a little. I guess I figured you’d have gone
into finance or something.”
He nods. “A lot of guys from our class did. I didn’t even
really know it was something I wanted to do until college. In
fact, I was sure I didn’t want to be a doctor since both my
parents are. But I took a bunch of classes in di erent fields
my first semester, and to make my family happy, one of
them was a pre-med bio class. I was surprised how much I
loved it. And of course my parents were thrilled. I never
looked back.”
“That’s really great, Adam. What’s your specialty?”
“Pediatrics.”
Wow. “That’s really amazing, Adam.” And I mean it.
“Where are you?”
“Columbia. I’m hoping to stay there too.”
“Good to know that you’re not planning to leave anytime
soon.”
“Why is that good?” he asks with a smile.
 I shrug. “No reason. But I do think it’s great that you’re
doing something to help people. I mean, as much as I like my
job, I can’t really say that.”
“Well—”
I hold up my hand. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Adam looks down at the ground, and over at the
fountain, then back at me. “I’ve been thinking about you,
Ollie.”
I try to ignore the way my breath catches in my chest.
“Probably just the reunion. I imagine you’ve been thinking
about everybody in our class.”
“No. I’ve been thinking about you for a long time. I
actually never stopped.”
I freeze, try to push down the hope that blooms through
me. He doesn’t mean what I think he means. The only reason
that he thought about me was because of everything that
happened.
There’s a silence for a moment and then he takes a step
forward. “I want to apologize.”
The intensity in his face is mesmerizing, and I don’t want
to look away, but I don’t understand. “Adam, we haven’t
seen each other in ten years. What are you apologizing for?”
“For ten years ago. I never got to know you in school the
way I really wanted to, and what happened at prom, I
shouldn’t have just stood there. I should have said
something or gone after you. That was my fault.”
I close my eyes, fighting against the memory that wells
up in my brain, still impossibly painful after all this time. “It
wasn’t your fault. That was all Sasha.”
“No,” he says. “I’m the reason that she did it. She wanted
me to go out with her, and I turned her down that night.”
I open my eyes, and I’m staring into his perfect green
eyes and I’m suddenly nervous. What does this mean? “Why
did you turn her down?”
 “Because I liked you. And she hated that.”
Suddenly the question I’ve been asking myself for ten
years—why would Sasha Daniels target me like that—has an
answer. I’m not sure if I’m angry or relieved, but I’m glad
that I know. If I had known this a long time ago, things
would have been di erent. “I wish you’d told me that a long
time ago.”
“Yeah,” he says. “But you didn’t come back, and after
that night I didn’t think that you’d want to see anyone. And
the more time passed the harder it got to consider reaching
out. Which is why I’m apologizing now. I should have done
more, and I regret not getting to know you when I had the
chance.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“You still can.”
It settles in my gut, that I forgive him. It’s not his fault
that Sasha chose to take his rejection out on me, and yeah he
could have done something, could have said something, but
he wasn’t the only person that didn’t. I mean, I wish that he
had told me about his feelings a long time ago, but I didn’t
tell him that I liked him either. And staying angry about it
isn’t going to help either of us. Besides, maybe there’s a
chance now.
Adam’s face goes still in shock at my words. I don’t think
he was expecting me to say that. It’s fair, I wasn’t expecting
me to say that either. Yeah, that was probably stupid. He
didn’t bring me out here to hit on me, he brought me out
here to absolve ten years of guilt. The realization of just how
wrong I was about this situation creeps up and I blush,
embarrassment making me flash hot. “I should go,” I say,
turning and heading back toward the hotel.
“Ollie, wait,” he says. “Don’t go.”
He manages to grab my hand, and I lose my balance,
slipping backwards. He catches me, pulling me upright and
against him, and I still can’t breathe and now it’s for an
entirely di erent reason. Adam has his arms around me,
hands against the bare skin of my back and I feel like I’m
back in high school because it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Being pressed up against him, I feel the body that I saw in
that photo through his clothes. Hard and strong and
absolutely overwhelming. It’s not only his muscles that are
hard right now, and… oh my god. It’s because of me. It really
shouldn’t take a man’s hard-on to be convinced that he
wants me, but it suddenly clicks.
I feel like I’ve got emotional whiplash from the last three
minutes.
“You okay?” His voice is lower, rougher than before.
I look up into his face and we’re so close now. “Yeah,” I
say. And I mean it. I’m okay. I can’t believe that this is
happening. Is it going to happen? I don’t know. I don’t want
to force it. I don’t think that I could take that rejection. “You
can let me go now.”
“Why would I ever do that?”
He leans down and presses his lips against mine and oh…
My whole body feels like champagne, light and bubbly
and drunk and it’s barely a kiss. I gasp when he pulls back.
Our mouths were closed and it was nothing more than lips
and I still feel like I’ve run a marathon—breathless and filled
with endorphins and just happy.
His hands roam up and down my back, and I’m very
aware of the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear under
this dress. I can feel my nipples harden against the silk, and I
wonder if he can feel them too. I don’t know what to say
right now. What do you say in this moment? Where the
barest of kisses is better than you ever thought that it could
be?
I’m saved from answering that question because we’re
both staring at each other, and I can feel the smile on my
face. It matches the one that’s on his that’s making me feel
like the sun is shining at midnight in Manhattan.
“May I kiss you again?”
“Please do.”
He chuckles as he closes the distance, and this time it’s
not just lips. His tongue is there, gently asking permission
and I open for him, and everything feels like it expands. This
is so much more than I thought, so much better. I feel like
I’m flying, joy and air and pleasure filling me up until I can’t
contain it and I kiss him back.
I wrap my arms around his neck and try to pull him
closer. I’ve never had a first kiss like this. I guess it’s
technically a second kiss. Who cares, I’m kissing Adam
Carlisle! My body heats up as our tongues dance and I think I
could stay in this moment forever.
I have to catch my breath when we separate. He’s stolen
all my breath from me. I’d happily let him do it again.
“Wow.” Is the only word I can say.
He chuckles softly. “I wasn’t expecting that.” His fingers
tighten on my spine. “I didn’t want you to run. I was just
surprised and wasn’t expecting you to forgive me or willing
to be near me.”
“Better late than never. I’ve thought about you too. I
actually have a confession to make.”
“Oh?” he smiles. “Are you keeping a dark secret?”
I laugh. “Not dark, no. I wasn’t going to come. I was
convinced that I never wanted to see any of our class again.
But Lorraine knows me too well—she knows that I never
really got over my crush.”
“On me?” He’s grinning like I’ve just said I think
unicorns are real.
“Yeah, on you.” I’m glad it’s dim here under these trees
because I’m blushing again. “I had said no, and then she
showed me your pictures. Once I saw them, I realized that
you were the only person that I wanted to see. Even if it was
only from across the room.”
“This is much better than from across the room,” he
says, and then he kisses me again.
My heart is going to pound itself out of my chest. God, I’ll
never be able to thank Lorraine enough for forcing me to
come to this reunion. If I had known that this would happen,
I never would have fought her on it. I need to buy her the
biggest box of her favorite chocolate that I can find.
The energy of this kiss shifts, and I can feel it turn hungry
in both of us. I slide my hands inside the jacket of his tuxedo,
feeling more of his body, and I’m acutely aware of the fact
that his hand is sliding down my back to the low dip of my
dress. A few more inches and he’s about to realize that
there’s absolutely nothing separating him from my skin.
I hear the click of high heels a second before I hear her
voice. “Ollie?”
Lorraine comes around the corner of the path and I try to
jump back from Adam, unsuccessfully. He doesn’t let me go,
and we’re still entwined together. Adam raises an eyebrow.
“Embarrassed?”
“No,” I say, blushing. “Though I love getting caught
mid-make-out by my best friend.” He chuckles, and I turn
to face Lor. “Hi.”
She smirks. “Hi. I came to get you to dance! The party is
finally going, and it’s really fun.” She looks Adam up and
down. “You should come too.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say.
“Sure,” she says.
“How did you find us?”
“I followed the sound of your ovaries screaming in
ecstasy.”
“Lor!” I flush bright red as Adam bursts out laughing.
 She waves a hand. “Kidding. The doorman said he saw
you guys come this way when I described you.”
“Okay then,” I say. “Bye.”
“See you!”
She flounces o , and I turn back to Adam, hiding my face
in his shirt. “Now I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” he says, still laughing a little. “If my best
friend were here it might have been worse.”
“Is he here?” I ask, not wanting to walk into that
particular situation.
Adam shakes his head. “No, he’s a friend from med
school. I’m sure you’ll meet him at some point.”
“I’d like to, but I’m glad I don’t have to worry about
something more embarrassing than that.”
He tilts his head to the side. “I think I’d risk it so I could
do this again.”
There’s something in the way that he kisses me that
makes New York fall away. I’m standing in the middle of the
sky with Adam, nothing exists but the two of us, and I’m
prepared for it to stay that way. He pulls away too soon.
“Will you dance with me?”
“Hell yeah.”
Taking my hand in his again, we walk back into the hotel
together, and I ignore the pointedly amused look that the
doorman gives us when we pass. God knows what Lorraine
said to him when she came back inside.
Lor wasn’t kidding, the ballroom is an entirely di erent
place when we walk into it. The lights are low now, with
roving streaks of colored light highlighting the dance floor,
and it seems more like a club than a ballroom. The benefit of
that is no one even notices that Adam and I walk in hand in
hand. There’s a crush of people on the dance floor and
Lorraine is right in the center.
 Dancing has never been my thing, but I’ll do it for Lor.
And the thought of dancing with Adam leads me to dirty
places in my mind. Places I definitely shouldn’t be dwelling
on in public. “Ready?” he asks.
I nod and he pulls me into the crowd, helping maneuver
us to where Lor is already completely one with the music.
Her smile is brilliant, and she cheers when we reach her,
pulling me into a hug and then spinning me back to Adam. “I
don’t know how to do this!” I shout at him so he can hear
me.
“Don’t worry,” he shouts back, and then he leans down
so his voice is in my ear. “I’ve got you.”
Grabbing my hand, he spins me out and pulls me back so
that my back is against his chest. The way he’s moving with
the rhythm is smooth and easy, and his confidence makes it
feel easy for me too. One of his hands holds mine, and the
other is wrapped around my waist, holding us close so that
we move together.
I like the way I can feel the fabric of his clothes against
the bare skin of my back, and I like the way his fingers
spread across my stomach, confident and a little possessive.
I can feel that he’s still hard, and the thought that he’s hard
because of me makes my heart beat faster.
Adam’s lips find my neck and god I’m glad that it’s so
loud because I moan. His mouth feels like fire and pleasure
and now I’m wondering what his lips will feel like
everywhere. Everywhere. His hand slips lower on my dress,
and it’s like every little inch of me he touches is shooting
need straight into my gut. I’m going to get lost and forget
where I am.
“Adam,” I say, but my voice is lost in the music. I turn to
face him, and our movement takes on an entirely di erent
feeling. Face to face, hips locked together, and I’m so
aroused now that I can’t really move. He’s the one who’s
moving both of us.
I lean forward to whisper in his ear, “I don’t want to
stop.”
“We don’t have to.”
“If we don’t,” I say, “I’m going to have a moment more
embarrassing than prom.”
I watch his eyes go dark and everything about him
hardens more, and he holds me more tightly against his
body. It doesn’t help the problem. The music changes then,
to a slower song, and it’s like high school all over again.
People who haven’t paired o suddenly do, and Adam and I
blend in perfectly with the other couples. I glance to my left
and see Lorraine with Joey Lancaster—honestly I should
have seen that coming.
Adam’s hand falls on my lower back, and he takes my
other hand in the traditional waltz pose. “I wanted to dance
with you that night, you know.”
“Did you?”
“I was as surprised as you were that night, and when it
seemed like you had won, it was too perfect. But I should
have realized something was wrong earlier. I had just told
Sasha that I liked you. But I was so happy…” Adam looks
embarrassed now. “I’m glad I have the chance to do this
now.”
“Sorry I’m not a better dancer,” I tease.
He shakes his head. “You’re perfect.”
I duck my head, because it feels like too much. I’m having
a hard time believing that any of this is real. It feels too good.
“I’m waiting for the shoe to drop,” I say. “For this all to be
one big ten-year-long joke.”
“It’s not.”
“I know. I just—” I stop, trying to think of what I mean.
“Things like this don’t happen.”
 We spin slowly in a circle, and it’s e ortless following his
lead. “Consider this the dance we should have had that
night.”
“I think for that I’d need a tiara.”
He chuckles, and I feel the vibration through his body.
“This is the Plaza, I can see what strings I can pull. If they
were willing to set up a basketball hoop, I’m sure there’s a
tiara around here somewhere.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “If it’s all right with you, I’d rather
have this dance be who we are now, not who we were.”
“That’s fine with me,” he says softly.
With these heels on I can just see over his shoulder, and
Lorraine is behind him now, watching us and grinning like
an idiot. I bite down on my lip to suppress my enormous
smile.
We dance in silence, and it feels so good, so comfortable.
His thumb is stroking softly on my back and his lips rest
gently against my temple. I close my eyes and let him guide
us, reveling in the moment. I know that I said I didn’t want
this to be a dance to make up for prom, but it still feels
significant, like there’s a measure of healing in this for both
of us.
The song comes to an end, and for a moment the
ballroom is quiet. There’s a spell cast over it, everyone
caught in the nostalgia of the moment. And then another
upbeat song comes on and it’s broken, and people start to
dance again. “Drink?” he asks, already helping me through
the crowd toward the bar.
He’s right, I’m thirsty. There’s a bunch of people near the
bar, including some of the guys that swarmed us earlier.
Adam spots a table and asks, “What would you like? I’ll grab
it.”
“Vodka cranberry.” I need something stronger than wine.
He nods. “I’ll be right back.”
 As soon as he’s gone, I feel hands on my shoulders. “Oh.
My. God. OLLIE.” It’s Lor.
“I admit,” I say, “you were right and I’m forever indebted
to you, et cetera.”
“Girl, you don’t owe me a thing.”
I smile. “All the same, I think I’m going to buy you some
chocolate.”
“The good kind please.”
“As if I would ever get anything less than the best for
you.” I fake a gasp. And then I glance toward the bar. Adam
is still waiting for the drinks, so I’ve got a couple minutes. “I
need help.”
Lor makes a face, “From what I saw you don’t need any
help at all.”
“I think I—” I swallow. “I think I want to invite him
home.”
“So do it. You deserve it.”
I sigh. “Yeah, but remember the last time I asked a guy
home? That ended pretty badly.”
“You can’t possibly be comparing Adam Carlisle to
douchey Tinder guy.”
“Well—”
Lorraine leans forward and grabs me by the shoulders.
“This isn’t the same. You guys have known each other for
years. He’s the one that approached you, I saw it. And the
way you two were dancing?” She fans her face. “There’s no
chance that he says no.”
“But if he does, I’m going to be an absolute mess.”
“If he does,” she says, “I’m going to punch him in the
nuts.”
I start to giggle, because it’s so ridiculous and I have no
doubt whatsoever that she would follow through. I see Adam
step up to the bar. “Okay, he’s going to come back now.”
“You can do this, just breathe, and good luck.”
 “Okay.” The thought of doing this kind of makes me want
to throw up from anxiety, but her confidence helps. “Before
you go, Joey Lancaster?”
She shrugs, “He was good in high school, and he’s hotter
now. I’m thinking I’ll see if he’s learned any new moves.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Go get ‘em tiger.”
Adam turns and makes his way back to me, and nerves
punch me in the gut. I clench my hands into fists and release
them to try to relieve some of the shaking.
“Here you go.” Adam passes me my drink, and he has one
of his own.
I take a big sip, and it helps a little. “I have something to
ask you, and I’m nervous.”
“Okay, I promise I’m not that scary.”
“It’s just that the last time I did this it didn’t go well.”
Adam looks confused. “Okay.”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my
apartment.” My stomach rolls with nerves and maybe the
alcohol was a bad idea because now I feel kind of light-
headed. I can’t remember when I ate last. My palms are
sweaty and I’m hanging on Adam’s expression figuring out
if I’m going to need to go bury myself in a hole in Central
Park.
His face turns from confusion to a perfect, beautiful
smile. He throws back his drink in one go, and puts it down
on the table. “Ready to go when you are.”
Sweet, pure, relief floods my system, and I copy him by
finishing my drink in one long sip. “Okay, I’m ready.”
 9

ADAM

I take Olivia by the hand and walk through the ballroom as

quickly as I can without drawing attention or making Ollie
think that the only reason I said yes was for sex. I mean, I
fucking hope there’s sex because my dick has been as hard as
a rock since I kissed her, and every time I look at her in that
dress, I think I lose a little more blood flow to my brain.
But it’s more than that. I want to be with her, in her
space, in her bed. I want to talk to her and find out all the
things I didn’t when I first had the chance. I want to find out
what kind of things she likes to read and do, and then I want
to do all those things with her. I want to know how her
family is and what her life has been like these last ten years.
I didn’t lie to her when I said that I’d thought about her. I
have thought about her a lot in the last ten years, but I never
thought that this would happen.
If I were in her position, I honestly don’t know if I would
have forgiven me. I should have done so much more to help
her. Telling her what really happened would have been a
good fucking start.
I really should have asked her if I could kiss her first, but I
didn’t see another way to show her my real reaction. And
god, kissing Ollie is like…
 I don’t have words for it. Never in my life have I had a kiss
like that. Who knows if it’s ten years of pent-up emotions or
the fact that she looks stunning tonight, but I’d be stupid if I
gave up this opportunity, sex or no.
She was so nervous asking me to come over, it makes me
wonder why. It’s something I want to ask, but this isn’t the
time or place to ask it. I let go of her for a second so I can
pull out a tip for the doorman, and he flags down a cab for
us. I hold the door open for her and she slides in first. As
soon as I’m inside, I pull her close. I don’t want her to think
that there’s any hesitation on my part. At all. I don’t know if
I can express how much I actually want this, and this is an
easy way to help with that.
Besides, it’s not exactly a hardship to have Ollie this close
to me. I can feel the shape of her so clearly through her
dress, and yet it still feels like there’s so much hidden.
She gives her address to the driver and o we go,
speeding towards the 59th Street Bridge. She looks at me, and
her expression is puzzled in the passing streetlights. “This is
so weird.”
“What?”
“You’re here with me. We’re going to my apartment.”
I lean down close so that the cab driver doesn’t hear me.
“Want to be a cliché and make out in the cab?”
“I’m pretty much always down for being a cliché,” she
says.
I kiss her, and the way her lips open under mine has my
cock harder than it’s ever been and need tugging in my gut
to have more of her. I pull her toward me until she’s
practically in my lap and I can stroke my hand down across
her hip, savor her curves. She tastes like the cranberry in the
drink that she just had, and I can smell whatever perfume
she has on, light lavender and vanilla and I love it.
 When I decided to go to the reunion, I thought I would be
there for an hour and then go home; never to see anyone
again. This is way, way better. The way she’s leaning into
me, kissing me back, I wish we’d had this when we were
eighteen. But then again, maybe it’s better that we’re trying
this now. Later. After having time to let the rest of that go.
It seems like only minutes before the cab pulls to a stop in
front of an apartment building in Queens. One of the older
ones, easily pre-war. We disentangle long enough for me to
pay the cab driver and then I help her out of the cab. The
lobby of her building has been updated, a nice glass door and
crystal chandelier decorate the marble foyer. There’s a code
lock on the door too.
She lets us in the first door to the foyer, and the second
door to the stairs. “It’s a walk-up,” she says. “Sorry.”
I saw the building from outside—it’s only a three-story
building, and that’s how many floors we go up. Stopping in
front of a door that has panes of frosted glass, she turns to
me. “Would you mind waiting outside for a couple of
minutes?”
“Why? You have someone else inside?” I tease.
She blushes, and it’s the perfect shade of pink. I want to
see if I can make her blush other places, in other ways. “No,
it’s just I wasn’t exactly expecting company. I want to clean
a couple of things up.”
I laugh. “I don’t care about that.”
“You say that now, but you might.”
“I won’t. You haven’t seen a mess until you’ve seen the
residents’ locker room.”
Ollie bites her lip, and it’s adorable. “Still, I could just
pick a couple of things up.”
“What if I promise to keep my eyes closed until you’re
happy.”
“Promise?”
 I won’t lie, I’m curious to see what exactly she thinks is
messy. “I promise I’ll give you at least a minute.”
“That’s all I need.” She gets a key from under the mat
and unlocks the door. “My key is still with my stu at
Bergdorf’s. Lorraine is having it messengered over
tomorrow. Now close your eyes.”
I do, and she takes my hand and leads me inside. In my
head I start counting to sixty, and I hear the sounds of Ollie
kicking o her shoes, hurried footsteps and the clink of
some glasses. Her footsteps disappear deeper into the
apartment and I hear shu ing and a few more sounds like
dishware clinking. “Can I open my eyes?” I ask, even though
I’ve only counted to forty-five.
“Not yet! Just one more minute.”
There’s a few thumps, and her footsteps running quickly
past me. More clinking. “Okay, I guess that’s as good as I can
do.”
I open my eyes, and look around. Her apartment is nice,
dove gray walls and a simple foyer with a door to the left into
the kitchen. I see some dishes in the sink and some towels in
a pile, but nothing else that I would immediately assign as
dirty or messy.
Ollie’s dress is now pooling around her feet, and I can see
her bare toes peeking out from beneath the dress. She’s
fidgeting like she’s waiting for me to pass judgment on her
and the apartment. “I like your place,” I say.
“But—”
“I’m not sure what you call messy, but this isn’t it.”
She bites her lip again. “Okay.”
We go into the living room and I see a few things here and
there out of place, a little clutter. But it makes the place look
lived in, not messy. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Sure.”
 “Okay,” she says, heading back to the kitchen. Her face
looks relieved that she has something to do, and I realize
that she’s nervous. I suppose with our history that it makes
sense.
While she’s in the kitchen, I take the time to look around
the room. There’s a couch that looks really comfortable, a
small TV, a wall filled with an asymmetrical collage of art
prints and a couple of large bookshelves. So she’s a reader
more than a television person. Given what I know of Ollie
from high school, it fits.
The shelves are more eclectic than I would have thought,
though. Just scanning I see business books, biographies,
fiction, mythology and poetry. So she reads everything. Good
to know. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the World’s
Waterfall series on the top shelf. The third book looks
particularly beat up, and I wonder if it’s the same copy that
she used to own. I’ll have to ask her sometime.
“Here you go,” she says, and I turn to take one of the
glasses of wine that she’s holding.
“Thank you.” I nod to the bookshelves. “So you still like
to read.”
She sighs, but in a relaxed way. This is safe territory for
her. “Yeah. Always have. I try to make time for it still, even
though I’d like to do more.”
“I wish I read more, but a lot of days I barely have the
energy to fall into bed.”
Ollie sits down on the couch and tucks her feet up under
her. “Are things that hard at the hospital?”
“No, not always.” I sit on the other end of the couch. “But
it’s Columbia. We’ve got a lot of di cult cases. And in
pediatrics, kids can be hard. They don’t always get what’s
happening, and it can be rough.”
She takes a sip of her wine. “I’m sorry.”
 “I’m not,” I say. “I like what I do. But it helps to
acknowledge the di culties.”
“Yeah,” Ollie says. She seems way more comfortable now,
and I wonder if it’s because we’re not talking about her. “Do
you have something you want to do inside pediatrics? A
specialty within a specialty?”
I shake my head. “No. General pediatrics. But things can
get complicated with kids, so even though I’m considered
‘general’ it still feels like a specialty. You get pulled into all
kinds of strange cases just because things can go wrong
really fast in little humans.”
The wine she’s chosen is good, and I know that I’m a bit
drunk with this and the drinks I had at the reunion. But not
so drunk that I’m about to get sloppy. She takes another sip,
and I like the way she’s relaxing. Like this is a normal and
she’s not about to bolt.
“So you went to college, where?”
“Dartmouth,” she says.
I grin. I knew it would be somewhere amazing. “That’s
awesome. And then what happened?”
“You want my whole life story?” she asks, cheeks turning
pink again.
“I do,” I say. “I want to know everything.”
“Everything is a lot.”
I nod. “True. How about just for now, you tell me about
your job.”
“My job is boring.” She says it so automatically that it
doesn’t even sound like her saying it.
I move a little closer on the couch. “Do you say it’s boring
because you actually think it’s boring? Or because you
assume other people already think that it’s boring?”
Ollie blinks, and looks at me suddenly. “No one’s ever
asked that before.”
“Well what’s the truth?”
 She thinks for a second. “It’s like half and half. There are
a lot of parts of my job that are boring. Repetitive. But that’s
not always a bad thing. It can be comforting. There’s no
room for error when you’re dealing with numbers. You
always know where you stand.” A pause. “But I really hate
learning the updated tax code every year.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I doubt anyone would like that kind of
reading.”
“You’d be surprised,” she says. “There are people who
are even nerdier than me.”
“Nothing wrong with being nerdy,” I say, moving closer
again. We’re close to touching now.
She laughs into her wine glass. “You’re the least nerdy
person that I can think of.”
“Trust me, everyone is a nerd about something. Besides,
we haven’t seen each other in ten years. I could be the
world’s biggest super-nerd and you wouldn’t know.”
“That’s true,” she says, leaning closer to me. “But you
don’t look like a nerd.”
“Something that works in my favor,” I say softly, closing
the distance between us. I take the glass out of her hand and
put them both on the table. Then, reaching out, I slip my
hand behind her neck. “Is this all right?” I ask.
“Yes.”
And then I kiss her.
10
 OLLIE

The wine and the vodka are making me feel warm and fuzzy.
I feel comfortable now, and not as anxious. Adam leans in
and kisses me, and this one is soft and slow and easy. It feels
good.
I’m so happy that I had the guts to ask him to come here
and that he said yes. I like that he tastes like wine and
whiskey, and the way his fingers tease the skin around my
neck. Here, when we’re alone, I get to feel everything I
wanted to feel while we were dancing. I don’t have to worry
about making a fool of myself in front of people who still
hate me.
Suddenly my body is raring to go, all the arousal I shoved
aside comes surging back. I pull Adam to me, and he is right
there, not missing a step. He licks across my lips and it sends
fire down my spine. I have to gasp for air but I don’t want to
stop kissing him. I want him on me, in me. It’s been a long
time, but even if it hadn’t, the way this feels would be
exquisite. There’s raw chemistry between us waiting to
explode, and I realize that I’m wet. That’s how badly I want
him.
We’re lying together on the couch now, legs tangled
together, and my dress is up almost to my hips. One of my
straps is falling o my shoulder, lowering my neckline to a
dangerous level. And the fact it has no back…it feels like I’m
showing more skin than I’m covering. I feel sexy and
powerful, and I pull back far enough to see Adam’s face. He
knows the state of my dress too, I can see it in his eyes. The
want and need that makes mine that much more powerful.
“Ollie, I need to ask,” he says, chest rising and falling
heavily. “How far is this going tonight?”
There’s cold drip of fear in my gut. “Do you want to
stop?”
“God, no.” He lets his lips fall to my collarbone, tasting
my skin. “But I don’t want to go faster than you’re ready
for.”
I arch my body into his, enjoying the sound he makes in
his throat. “I’m ready,” I say. “I think we’ve both been ready
for this for a long time.” I take the time to trace his face with
my fingers. There’s a barely there scratch of stubble on his
jaw, and the line of it makes me understand why people say
some jaws can cut glass. His nose has a little bump on the
top, and I wonder if he broke it. And then his eyes, a perfect
green that’s staring down into me, and I think I could get
lost there for a long time.
“Then I don’t want to stay on the couch.”
“Is it uncomfortable?” I ask. “Sometimes I think this
couch can be lumpy, and it’s older.”
He chuckles against my skin. “Ollie.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want to stay on the couch like someone you bring
home to fool around with. This is di erent than that to me.”
What he’s saying sinks in. “Oh. Okay.”
Adam’s lips press to the skin just below my ear. “Let me
take you to bed.”
I shiver, goosebumps rising on my skin from his kiss and
his words. And then I nod.
 “Which one is your bedroom?”
“Here,” I sit up, about to show him around, when he
beats me to it. He’s up on his feet and he scoops me up o
the couch like I’m weightless. “Which door?” he asks,
smiling.
“French doors.”
Pushing the door open with his foot, Adam carries me
into my bedroom, and I'm so grateful that I'm actually in the
habit of making my bed. He claims he doesn't care about the
mess, but I'm still skeptical.
He lays me down on the bed, and then he's over me again.
"I'm going to go slow, because I don't want either of us to
forget this."
I'm going to say something, but his lips are on my
shoulder and I forget all the words. He's tracing the lines of
me with his mouth, moving to my neck and down the center
of my chest, slow and deliberate. Each kiss raises more
goosebumps on my skin, sends more arousal spiraling down
into my core where it stays and builds.
Gently he helps me out of the straps of my dress and peels
it back. I'm not wearing a bra, and my nipples are already
hard from his attention. There's a short intake of breath, and
he stares at me. I realize this is the moment where there's no
turning back. The look on his face, awe and wonder and lust
makes me pull him down to me again.
"I want to see you," I say, trying to unbutton his shirt,
but Adam catches my hands by the wrists.
"You will, I promise. But first, I want to savor you." The
dark roughness of his voice slithers down my spine and I feel
myself dampen further.
Savor. Like I'm a flavor that he wants more of. Like he's
going to taste me. God, yes.
My dress is down to my hips, and his mouth is on my skin
again. He moves slowly, drawing a line of pleasure and fire
down between my breasts. One hand reaches out to squeeze,
and my back arches o the bed. He laughs.
“What?" I feel the blood rushing to my face before I can
even form the words to speak the question, and Adam
smiles. "I love the way you blush," he says, "especially when
you do it here." He draws his finger down the path that his
mouth followed. "But I still want to know why you're
blushing."
I know why, but I don't want to say. I don't want to scare
him away.
Adam's hands cradle my face. "What are you afraid of?"
"So much," I whisper. "And I don't want to ruin this."
He pulls back so he's kneeling on the bed and pulls me
with him, so that we're upright together. It feels less
vulnerable, even if I'm still half naked, still aching for him to
touch me.
"Tonight, let that go," he says. "I want you, and I'm not
going to leave unless you ask me to."
I don't know how he knew that's what I needed, but I kiss
him, wrap my arms around his neck, and the scratch of his
shirt on my breasts makes me gasp into his mouth.
"Why were you blushing?"
"They're sensitive," I say, voice breathy. "And it's—I like
it when—" I can't seem to get the words out, but that's all
he needs.
Adam's hands come up and then he's touching me,
thumbs rolling across my nipples and I feel that everywhere.
I have to close my eyes, because it feels so damn good. "Oh,"
he says, running his thumb over me again, watching me
shake. "I see. You were embarrassed to tell me that you like
this?"
He does it again with both hands and I moan. If he keeps
doing that I think I might come. It's happened before and I
know it's not common but god every time someone touches
my nipples I'm in heaven. "Yes," I say. I don't know if it's
the answer to his question or a request for more. Either.
Both.
I'm on my back again now, and suddenly his mouth is
there, covering my nipple while he toys with the other one.
Adam's tongue swirls around my skin and I can't breathe. He
sucks, pulling my skin taut and then grazing his teeth across
me and oh god I'm so wet that I think I might be ruining the
dress and I can't even worry about it because holy fuck.
He pinches my left nipple between his fingers, twisting
and pulling just hard enough to shoot a burst of fiery heat
down to my clit. My breath is coming in gasps, and I can't
believe that he's doing this. I've never had someone spend
this much time on my breasts, just enjoying them. The last
time I came like this was an accident, and the guy was so
freaked out that he had to stop.
Adam switches his attention from one nipple to the other
and fuck—
The roughness of his tongue on me is bringing me higher.
Higher. He squeezes me, and oh god. I gasp, my body going
rigid as pleasure splinters through me from deep inside. It
moves outward, and I'm lost in the sensation. It's brilliant,
like a flare—just a flash and then gone, but it's beautiful,
and I'm still trying to catch my breath.
I open my eyes to Adam looking down at me, searching
my face. "You should never, ever, be embarrassed about
that," he says.
"Other men have said di erently."
"Then those men are idiots. That's one of the hottest
things I've ever seen." He presses a kiss to my lips, "and if
you come that hard when I play with your tits, I can't wait to
see what happens when I reach your pussy."
"Oh—" I'm cut o because he's back at my breasts again,
taking each nipple into his mouth and giving each one a
long, deep suck that pulls on my clit and makes me shiver.
He could stop right now and I'd be satisfied. But then again,
I'm curious about what's going to happen next. I've never
had anyone a ect me this way, and I think it's going to be
amazing.
Adam's tongue licks down my stomach, teasing me,
tracing lines on my hipbones and across, just above where
my dress has pooled. I'm soaking with anticipation, and grab
the blanket on the bed to hold myself back from grabbing
him and trying to make him go faster.
He hooks his fingers in the dress and pulls it down my
hips. I close my eyes listening to the slithering sound as the
silk hits the floor. I'm naked with Adam Carlisle. This is a
dream, and I don't want to open my eyes and risk waking up.
His mouth gets closer and closer: the top of my thigh, the
edge of my hip, the smooth skin of my mound where my legs
are pressed together.
Another kiss there, insistent, and Adam's hands are on
my hips pulling me closer to his mouth. Then his tongue
darts out, and I gasp and I relax, letting my legs open.
Another dart of his tongue meets my clit and holy fuck
that feels so good. "Mmm," Adam makes a sound low in his
throat, and god it's the hottest thing. He's turned on by me,
wants to savor me. I want him to lick me again, I want to feel
what he can do with his mouth because if he can kiss me like
that then—
My whole body tightens when he touches me, a kiss on
my inner thigh and then closer. Just a flick of tongue on my
skin. I don't know where he's going to touch me next, and it
might drive me crazy. I open my eyes and the sight of
Adam's head buried between my legs sends another burst of
wetness gushing from me, and Adam laughs.
"I love how wet you are."
 And then he seals his mouth over my clit and sucks. The
world turns white, and I come instantly. I'm too turned on
for anything else to happen. My whole body jerks against his
mouth but he keeps me still with his hands, tongue swirling
around my clit as he sucks me deep. Pleasure fizzes through
my limbs, lighting that I have to contain, and I moan out
loud.
He doesn't stop, instead, he licks me in long, slow strokes
that make me jump and send sparks swirling through my
body. God.
"Adam," I say. I'm going to tell him that it's enough, that
I can't take anymore and that he can stop, but then his
tongue slips inside my pussy and I go blind with pleasure.
The words I was forming blur into nothing. "Fuuuuck." Just
one drawn-out word that make him chuckle. The vibrations
are good. So good.
He's fucking me with his tongue now, licking deep, trying
to reach the G-spot, and oh my god he's almost there. So
close. But not quite. He moves his hand so that his thumb is
lazily circling my clit and my muscles start to shake. I'm on
the edge of another orgasm, but not quite there. Not quite.
I'm instead caught in that place of pleasure that's deep and
just on the edge. I'm drowning in it, pulsing close to the edge
and being pulled back again and again.
Adam sucks at my entrance before pulling back. His voice
is rough, and I feel it on my skin. "I like the way you taste."
Covering my clit with his mouth again, I want to say
something, but nothing comes out but another moan. This
one louder. I can't even think about how I'm embarrassing
myself because it feels so damn good.
He slips a finger inside me, and then two, and then three.
I'm so wet that he slips in without a problem and suddenly
I'm so, so full. He curves his fingers, and shit there it is. He
strokes across my G-spot and I cry out because it's there,
I'm close to falling o a cli and into an ocean of pleasure
that I'm not sure I'll resurface from.
One more stroke, and I fall. I might be gasping, might be
screaming, I'm not sure. The orgasm is pure light, it sears
through my body and crackles through my nerves and I'm
shaking and god yes this is exactly what I want.
Adam is still there, stroking me with his tongue and his
fingers and it feels like the pleasure just keeps going. I can't
see or breathe or hear, it's just pleasure. He slows down, but
my body still has spasms, little mini-orgasms. I didn't know
I could come this much. I don't remember a time where I've
done it this hard or this close together.
I'm panting on the bed, and I look down to see Adam
smiling at me. "Holy shit," I say. "You are very good at
that."
"I'm glad you think so."
He shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket and I can't believe he's
still in his suit after all this. "I should have made you take
your jacket o ."
"It's o now."
And other things are coming o too. He takes of his shirt
one button at a time and I get to see that perfect chest and
stomach appear. It doesn't disappoint. He's lean, and I'm
amazed that he has a body like this while he's a resident. But
I'm glad that he does. I follow the lines of him from his chest
across a set of perfect abs and lower to the waist of his pants
where he has those lines that dip beneath and I want to lick
them.
He drops his shirt to the floor and kicks o his shoes. "I
feel like there should be some music," he says, teasing.
"Since I'm stripping for you."
"Next time," I say, "because I want you naked now."
"Yes, Ma'am."
 His pants fall to the floor, and through his boxer briefs I
can already see how hard he is, and how big. His cock is
straining against the fabric, and I want it. He's about to take
them o , but I stop him, moving to the edge of the bed and
pulling him closer by the hips. "Wait."
God, he's big. I run my fingers across him through the
fabric and I see all his muscles tighten. I stroke him again,
and look up to see the way his eyes are focused on me, so
dark, so filled with want.
I hook my fingers on the sides of his underwear and pull
them down, letting his cock spring free. It stands proudly
straight out from his body, and I have to reach out and touch
it. He's so hard, and when my fingers stroke his skin he
closes his eyes.
He savored me, and now I want to savor him. I lean
forward, but he stops me an inch before my lips touch him.
"I want that," he says. “Believe me, I want that. But if you
touch me with those lips I'm going to come, and I want to be
inside you when I do."
I smirk at him, suddenly very much liking the idea that
I've turned him on so much that he doesn't think he'll last. I
lean back on the bed and arch my back, showing o my
breasts. "How do you want me?"
11
 ADAM

I don't think the words she's saying register for a second.

The sight of her draped across the bed, confident as queen
has me frozen in place. I can't respond.
Then she asks again, "Tell me what you want."
What I want is to be inside her as quickly as possible. I
fumble for my wallet in my pants on the floor and grab a
condom from my wallet and roll it on. "I want you," I say,
joining her on the bed.
I love the feel of her underneath me, finally skin on skin. I
kiss her until she closes her eyes, and stroke down her side. I
don't think I'll get enough of just touching her. She's soft and
firm and so fucking gorgeous I can't keep my head on
straight. I've been on the edge of coming this whole time,
and I don't know how long I can last. I know that I would
have lost is the second I felt her tongue on my cock.
Jesus, just thinking about her tongue on my cock...
I reach between us, fitting myself against her entrance,
and I watch her eyes fly open to meet mine while I push in
slowly. She moans, and it's the sexiest fucking sound. Her
pussy is tight, squeezing me as I push in and in and I think
I'm in heaven. I could stay here and be happy.
 The fact that she's so tight even though she's come three
times, shit. I'm all the way in, and it's a tight fit. She
squeezes down on me and I think that I might black out.
"You feel so fucking good."
I try to stay still, because I'm big and I don't want to hurt
her, but all I want to do is to fuck her until she's screaming
and senseless.
Ollie pulls my face to hers and kisses me. I hope she can
taste herself on my tongue and know how much I enjoyed it.
I start to move, because I can't hold myself back anymore. I
pull back and sink in, and it's sweet delicious friction. Shit.
I have to hold my breath and tense all my muscles, but I
keep the rhythm steady. Speed up a little and stay there. Not
too fast.
"Adam," Ollie says, and I look down at her. Her eyes are
glazed with pleasure, and I love that look. "Take me."
My heart stops in my chest. "What?"
One of her hands grips my side, and I can feel her nails
there urging me on. The other pulls my face down to hers.
"Take me. You're holding back."
I don't need her to say it again. I reach down, tilting her
hips up into mine, and pull back. I drive into her in one
stroke, and I don't stop. Fuck. I plunge into her again and
again and again and it feels so good and in a part of my mind
I can't believe that this is Ollie, that I'm finally fulfilling
every fantasy I've had for the last ten years. I want to take
her hard and fast and I want to make it last as long as
humanly possible.
She's grabbing the sheets, holding on while I fuck her,
and her tits are bouncing with every thrust. God, I want to
fuck them. I want to fuck them and make her come from just
fucking her tits.
I'm close to coming, and I want to be even closer to her.
Pulling out, I grab her hips and turn her over. She's right
there with me, and I slip back in, folding myself over her, so
that every part of us is touching. God, her ass pressed up into
my hips feels so good, and the way she's taking me without
missing a beat—I'm going to come.
But not without her.
I reach between us, and search for her clit with my
fingers. She's so wet and my fingers slip and slide around it,
but I hear her gasping, and I feel the tension in her body. I
close my eyes, thrusting harder, faster, circling with my
fingers until I she's begging. "Yes, yes, yes, yes." It's a chant
or a prayer and it matches the rhythm of my fucking.
"Adam!" Ollie screams my name, and I feel the gush of
wetness on my hand as she comes, and I can't hold back. I
thrust deep, reaching a speed I didn't think I could, and
there—
My vision disappears and lightning flashes up my spine
and outward. Bursts of heat and pleasure ripple through my
body, and I call Ollie's name.
I empty myself into the condom, every pull of my orgasm
is deep and sharp and it takes every last bit of me.
I come back to myself, panting, holding Ollie against me,
still buried inside her. My lips are at her neck, and I can see
the faint sheen of sweat on her skin. I don't pull out of her,
not yet. I just lower us to the bed, keeping her close. Her
pussy squeezes down on me, an after-e ect of her own
orgasm, and I groan.
I've never come like that. Ever.
What the hell just happened?
"Adam," she says, and her voice is raw from her screams
and moans. She doesn't say anything else. But I know. I wrap
my arm around her, and I like that I can touch so much of
her at once. Our legs are tangled, my chest pressed against
her back, my arm spreading across her hip and breasts to her
shoulder. I kiss her neck, breathing in the lingering scent of
her perfume with the new smell of sex, and I can feel myself
twitch. Like my cock is thinking it might want another go. I
slowly slip out of her, and I feel the loss. I want to be back
inside that soft heat. It's perfect.
"Where's your bathroom?" I ask softly.
"The door before the kitchen."
I quickly make my way there and get rid of the condom
and clean myself o before going back to the bedroom. While
I was gone, Ollie got under the covers, and I slip under them
with her. We're face to face now, but I still want her closer. I
put an arm behind her so that we're touching all the way
down our bodies, breathing each other's air.
"Hi," she says, a cute smile on her face.
"Hi."
"That was...that was very good. Thank you."
I chuckle. "You’re welcome, but I think I'm the one that
needs to say it. It was..."
"Yeah me too." She sighs, "I owe Lorraine a very big
present."
"Maybe I'll send her flowers," I say.
"She'd really like that," Ollie says sleepily, snuggling
down into me. It makes my cock jump and sti en and she
laughs.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Nothing." She yawns. "Just a normal boring Sunday for
me."
"Good." I lay back and take her with me so she's draped
across my chest. "I want to take you out where there aren't a
hundred of our former classmates there to watch us."
Her head pops up. "You're staying?"
"If you'll let me."
She tries to hide her smile by ducking her head, but I still
see it. "Yes."
 I stroke my hand down her back and I feel her relax. She
doesn't realize that the only thing that would make me leave
right now is her throwing me out on my ass.
The high of everything is beginning to wear o , and I feel
sleep coming, and I can feel Ollie's breathing going steady
too. "Good night, Olivia."
"Night."
12
 OLLIE

I wake up slowly. First with just the awareness that I'm

awake, and then realizing that there is someone else in my
bed with me. And finally feeling the arm draped across me
and the body behind me.
Suddenly I'm wide awake. Oh my god, Adam Carlisle is in
my bed. I had sex with Adam last night, and not only that but
it was the best sex of my life. I open my eyes, and my
bedroom is dim. I can see that the sun is already well up
from the light behind the shades, but I don't care. It's
Sunday, and I get to spend it with Adam.
I try not to move, or at least move slowly, because I don't
want to wake him up. But as I'm moving slowly I realize
something: he's hard. I suppose that I could wake him up on
purpose, my way.
He doesn't stir when I slip out from under his hand, and
duck under the covers, and he doesn't stir when I find his
cock with my hand, stroking it gently. I press my lips to the
tip of him, tasting the salt there. I feel him move then, and I
lick him like I would a lollipop.
"Ollie?" Adam's voice is bleary and confused.
I take him into my mouth then, sucking on the head of
him and he swears, throwing back the blankets. He stares at
me in shock, and I take him deeper causing him to close his
eyes.
"Good morning," I say, pulling back and licking down his
shaft until I reach the base of him.
I cover every inch of him with my tongue, and I watch his
breath start to come faster. Finally, I make it back to the tip,
and he groans when I sink down onto him again. Adam
reaches out, tangling his fingers in my hair and holding on,
guiding me with angle and thrust. He moves me faster,
deeper, gripping my hair with both hands now.
Yes. I close my eyes and let him lead. He groans when I
take him to the back of my mouth, the tip of him slipping
into my throat. I pull back for a second, gasping for air. But
only for a second, because I dive down onto him again, and I
want him to come as hard as he made me come last night.
He works me on his cock in smooth strokes, up and down,
and I like the feel of him between his lips. I suck hard on
him, using my tongue whenever I can. But I let him lead, his
entire body taut as he fucks my mouth.
"Ollie," Adam says, a second before he plunges deeper
than he's gone before. His cock jerks, and I'm flooded with
his salty cum and I swallow as quickly as I can. He's filling
my mouth, and I do my best to catch it all. He's still
thrusting in, one long moan coming from his mouth, and
then he lets me go, spent.
I finish swallowing, licking his cock clean while he
watches. The way he's looking at me right now, like I'm
something to eat, is something I'll never forget.
"Holy shit, Ollie," he says, still catching his breath. "Good
morning."
"I'm hungry," I say. "Want some breakfast?"
"Sure."
I hop out of the bed, practically running out of the room
because I just had Adam's cock in my mouth and I both love
that and am somehow embarrassed by it. Eggs. I can make
eggs. I put the frying pan on the stove and crack some eggs
into it, and dig around in my fridge for some sprinkled
cheese. I throw some of that in the pan, too.
Adam appears in the doorway to the kitchen, still
completely naked, and I'm distracted by the sight of his body
in the daylight. God, he's gorgeous.
"If you're going to cook naked on a regular basis, I may
have to stay over more often."
I blush. "I'd be okay with that."
"But right now," he says, crossing the kitchen to me and
pressing me against the wall, "you ran away from bed before
I had the chance to properly say good morning."
"You said you were hungry."
"I am, but I was about to say that it could wait."
He's so close it's overwhelming, and the fact that he's
touching me, running his hands down my arms and his chest
pressed against mine has me panting with need. "Wait for
what?"
A hand slides down my stomach, farther, until his fingers
reach my pussy and he slips one inside. "For me to see how
wet you are and decide what I'm going to do about it."
The sound that comes from me can only be described as a
whimper.
"What should I do about it?" he asks, but he's not asking
me, just musing out loud. "I could use my fingers on you
until you're shaking and my hand is covered in you. I could
put you up on this countertop and fuck you until you scream
my name again. I could take you against this wall right now."
His fingers are still moving inside me, and I close my eyes,
waiting to see what he'll do. "It's a pity I didn't come
prepared," he said.
"Prepared?"
 He adds a second finger and I gasp. "I didn't bring any
more condoms. Don't worry, I won't make that mistake
again." A third finger, and at this angle it's a stretch. "I plan
on taking you against a wall very soon, Ollie. And on this
countertop. And in your shower. And in my shower. Every
place you can think of, I'm going to fuck you."
"Yes," I breathe. Adam's fingers are moving in and out of
me steadily, stroking across my G-spot and deeper. He
knows just what he's doing to make me shudder in pleasure.
His thumb brushes my clit and I moan into his shoulder. I'm
on my tip-toes and holding him is the only thing that's
keeping me on my feet. My legs are shaking and weak but I
don't want him to stop, please don't stop please—
I look at Adam, and he looks at me, and he doesn't
hesitate as he slips the last finger inside me. My eyes flutter
closed again and oh god the only thing I can do is feel right
now. I'm stu ed full, fuller than with his cock, and he's
stretching me, fucking me with his hand and teasing my clit
and I think my heart's going to explode it's pounding so
hard.
I'm straining, trying to hold myself back from the edge
because I want to make it last. Adam's other hand reaches
into my hair, pulling my head back so he can see my face.
"Let go, Ollie."
I shake my head, it feels too good. I need to hold on. It
can't get any better than this.
He presses down on my clit with his thumb, hard.
"Come."
I do, pleasure bursting outward like a whirlwind through
my body. I was wrong, this is so much better. "Oh god, yes!"
I keep saying it, and he keeps me fucking me, and the
orgasm never seems to end. It’s dripping down my legs and
onto his fingers and I'm shaking and the pleasure is sweet
and sharp and it crashes over me in a final wave before
disappearing and leaving me gasping.
I lean back against the wall, panting, and watch as Adam
lifts his fingers to his hand, licking them clean. "Morning,"
he says with a grin.
I grin back at him. Because this is strange and weird and
amazing and I didn't think that I could be this happy. And I
never thought I would be this happy because of Adam.
Suddenly the burning smell reaches my nose. "Shit." I
spring around Adam and shut o the burner under the eggs,
but they're already smoking. I grab a dishtowel and wave it
frantically at the smoke detector. Thankfully it doesn't go
o . My smoke detector is a real bitch and once it starts going
o it really doesn't like to stop.
"Well, I guess that's that for that breakfast." I glance at
Adam and smile, "Definitely worth it though."
"Good." he pulls me in for a kiss. "Whatever will we do
now?"
"The bodega down the street has really good food. I'll run
out and get us some co ee and donuts and maybe something
not entirely sugar."
"Works for me," he says.
"Good." I run to my room and throw on some yoga pants
and a sweatshirt and throw my hair into a bun so it looks
less like I had wild sex all night.
Adam is by the door as I leave. "Now that I know what's
under there I won't be able to get it out of my head."
"I could say the same," I say, glancing down at his cock,
which is hardening in front of me, "but I don't have to
imagine right now."
He chuckles. "Hurry back so I can ruin the second
breakfast too."
"I will," I say, grabbing my key.
 There's a box outside the foyer door, and I see that it's my
clothes and wallet from Bergdorf’s. Perfect. The bodega
knows me and would have gladly added the food to my tab,
but now I don't have to do that. I leave my clothes in the box
and head down to the end of the block to Marsha's. It’s really
the hub of our little neighborhood, and everyone knows
everyone.
I order a couple of co ees and doughnuts and one of their
giant sausage egg and cheese bagel sandwiches. They're so
large that I never manage to finish them on my own, so I
figure we can split it, or Adam can eat the whole thing.
It doesn't take long for them to make up my order, just a
few minutes, so I text Lorraine.
How did things go with Joey?
An almost immediate response.
He's a good time, but not exactly mind blowing. But who
knows, maybe I can whip him into shape. :)
And immediately:
But don't try to hide from me, you and Adam are the real story
here! How did THAT go?
I laugh to myself. She's nosy, but I love her.
I'm at Marsha's right now getting breakfast for us.
HE'S STILL THERE OLLIE? OH MY GOD!!!
I'll tell you about it later.
Yes, you will. You will tell me every little gory detail until I'm
begging you to stop.
Fat chance of that, but I'm not going to argue that point
yet.
Lol. I'll call you in a bit. Not sure what the plan for today is.
They call my name, and I grab the bag with my food and
the little cardboard tray that has the drinks and head back to
my apartment. I manage to grab the box from the foyer with
my clothes in it too.
 "Okay," I say, walking into the apartment. "I didn't know
what kind of doughnuts you like, so I got a bunch, plus they
have a breakfast sandwich that's truly an impressive size, if
you feel like that."
No response.
"Adam?"
I set the food on the countertop in the kitchen, and walk
through my apartment. He's not in the bathroom, and by the
time I reach the bedroom I have a pit in the bottom of my
stomach. His clothes are gone from where they were lying on
my floor. Well, shit. How did I not see that coming?
When I get back to the kitchen, I see a piece of paper that
I missed, and I feel like a bucket of icy relief has been
dumped on my head. At least he didn't take o without
leaving a note. The handwriting on the note is much neater
than I would expect for a doctor, which is good. I've never
understood why it's not mandatory for people prescribing
medication to have absolutely perfect handwriting.
Ollie,
I am so sorry. I forgot that I had lunch with my father today.
It's been scheduled for a while—not something I'd really like to be
doing—and he's not the kind of person who takes well on being
cancelled on. I didn't have your number, but I'd like to come back
tonight if that's okay? Let me know,
Adam.
There's a phone number listed there. Okay, that's good. I
pull up Lorraine's contact and press call.
"Hello?"
"Hey," I say through a bite of doughnut. "Are you home
yet?"
"Almost," she says, yawning. "Why?"
"Adam had to go so I have extra co ee and doughnuts."
"I'll be there in five minutes."
 True to her word, my doorbell rings barely five minutes
later, and I buzz her up, mentally preparing for the
onslaught of questions.
I have the cup of co ee ready to hand her when she walks
through the door, and she takes it with a groan. "Oh, thank
blessed Jesus. This is needed." She drops her purse on the
floor and fishes a doughnut out of the bag and takes a bite,
and then, "Okay, spill."
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything. But why did he have to go?"
I wince. "Well, he wasn't here when I got back with
breakfast."
Lor almost chokes on her doughnut. "WHAT? I'm going to
kill him."
"No, you're not," I say. "He left this."
I hand her the note, she reads it and then rolls her eyes.
"That's such bullshit. If he didn't want to stay he could have
just said so."
"If he wanted to just disappear then why did he leave his
number and say that he wanted to come back?"
"Okay, fine." She makes a face. "But still, not exactly the
start you're hoping for."
"I'm going to text him after you leave and see what he
has to say. But pending that, given last night, I'm willing to
overlook it."
"Oh my god tell me everything."
I do...kind of. I give her the condensed version, and when I
finish with what happened in the kitchen she whines.
"Please, Ollie, you have to give me more details than that."
"What kind of details are you looking for?" I laugh.
"Details!" she says, biting into another doughnut. "How
big is he? How many times did you orgasm? That kind of
thing."
I shake my head. "Boundaries, Lor."
 "Nooo. Please. I'll tell you about Joey. He has a much
bigger dick than he did in high school, but all the same
moves. But I think with practice he could be really good."
I clap my hands over my ears, "Oh my god, Lor, I don't
want to know about Joey Lancaster's dick."
"You really do," she says with a pointed smile.
Two can play that game. "Trust me, I'm good."
"God, you're such a tease."
"Bitch," I laugh, "I bought you doughnuts."
She takes another bite. "No, you bought these for your
lover. These are second hand doughnuts. I know my true place
in your heart."
"You know I'm not good at this, Lor. The whole details
thing. I get all flustered, and then there's the fact that I'm
not sure where this is going or how long it's going to last. I
don't want to kiss and tell just yet."
Lor groans. "Ugh, I hate it when you make sense."
"I will say, it was easily the best I've ever had."
"Damn." She raises her eyebrows. "Go Adam."
We toast with our paper co ee cups. I shift gears as I
remember parts of last night. "How should I get the dress
back?"
"Is it still in one piece?"
I laugh. "Stop. Of course."
"Bring it by anytime, we'll see what condition it's in."
"Okay."
Lor sighs. "I've gotta go. I need a nap and a shower before
I have to wait on Mrs. Diamond.”
Mrs. Diamond is one of her most particular regulars, but
she can't tell me who it actually is, so we use the nickname.
"Good luck with that," I say.
"I'm going to need it."
As soon as she's gone I grab Adams note and add him as a
contact in my phone and type out a new message.
 You know, you scared me.
I don't have to wait long for his response.
I know it looks bad. I swear that it's not what it looks like. As
soon as I can make it back to your apartment, I'll be there.
Okay.
I promise. I'll even bring you a gift.
I'm intrigued.
What kind of gift?
A surprise.
I find myself biting my lip.
Surprises, in general, make me nervous.
It'll be a good surprise. I have to go, almost to the restaurant.
See you later.
Well, now that I have a better part of the afternoon alone,
I need to make sure that the apartment is actually clean by
the time he gets here. I'm not going to let him think I'm a
slob. Time for music and cleaning supplies. Though cleaning
my room and the kitchen are going to make me think of last
night and this morning. God, I could get lost in those
memories. It's going to be a long afternoon.
13
 ADAM

This restaurant is the last place I want to be right now. I

checked my phone after Ollie went to get us breakfast and
found multiple furious texts from my father about me not
being at the brunch we had planned. I had completely
forgotten—probably because I didn’t want to go in the first
place.
The last thing I wanted to do was leave Ollie like that. Not
exactly a stellar start when I told her that I wanted to spend
the day with her. I do, as much as I can. I just have to get this
over with.
I stopped quickly at home to change so I’m not in my tux
from last night. That would bring more questions than I’m
comfortable with from this particular group of people.
I walk into the restaurant and wave o the hostess. I
know where I’m going. They always sit at the same table.
They’re already well into their meal when I walk up.
My father, my boss Dr. Pratt, and Sasha. She’s the last
person that I want to see. Frankly, I’m lucky that she didn’t
see me with Ollie last night.
I pull out my chair and sit down. “Sweetheart!” Sasha
says. “You’re so late, what happened?” She kisses my cheek
and I stifle a cringe. I want to wipe her kiss o like I’m a kid.
 Sasha is Dr. Pratt’s daughter, and I thought it would be a
good idea for Sasha and me to see each other so that he
would like me. I was younger then and I wanted to be
successful, and Sasha agreed because dating a doctor looks
good. It’s the worst decision I’ve ever made, and a complete
sham. I’ve never slept with Sasha. I’ve never kissed her. I
don’t want to do any of those things and never will. Over
time it got complicated because Dr. Pratt does like me, and I
didn’t want that to change because I wasn’t dating his
daughter anymore. But now, it has to end. I’m not going to
give up a chance at something real with Olivia for a fake
relationship with Sasha. Sasha who almost ruined Ollie’s life.
If I’d known that anything would ever happen between Ollie
and me, I would have broken this o years ago.
Dr. Pratt chuckles, and I realize that I haven’t answered
Sasha’s question. “Party a little too hard with the old gang
last night, Adam?”
“You could say that, yeah.” I clear my throat. “Sorry to be
late.”
“Not a problem at all,” he says. “I was just telling your
father about some of your cases, but I’d love to hear about
the reunion. Did you two have fun?”
I glance at Sasha, and she gives me a tiny shake of her
head. She didn’t tell him that we didn’t go together. She
clears her throat. “I wasn’t there very long. I wasn’t feeling
well so I just said a few hellos before leaving. Adam stayed a
little longer.”
I manage a smile even though anger that this is still going
on is churning in my gut. “Some of the guys from the
basketball team got the hotel to set up a hoop. Pretty wild
stu .”
Both my dad and Dr. Pratt laugh. “Well, I’m glad you both
had fun.”
 “Actually,” I say, “There’s something that we need to tell
you.”
Sasha quickly puts her hand on my shoulder. “Dear, I
wanted to talk to you for a moment before we told them, but
you were late.” She looks at our fathers. “Will you excuse us
for a moment?” She tosses her napkin on the table and heads
towards the bar.
I nod to the dads and follow her. “Time for your daily
mimosa?” I ask.
She smiles in that sickly sweet way that I’ve grown used
to, and that I hate. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“This?” I gesture between us, “is done. I’m sick of the
game and the lies. I never should have agreed to it in the first
place.”
“We’re not done until I say we’re done,” she says. “I saw
you last night with that slut Olivia Mitchell. This is because
of her, isn’t it? You were practically fucking her on the dance
floor.” I go cold, and Sasha pounces. “I knew it. You’d rather
have the crazy suicidal freak than me?”
Anger is burning in my chest now. “Sasha, we’re not even
together. The whole relationship is fake. You really want this
to go on that badly? Give me a reason why.”
“Because whether you know it or not, Adam, you want
me. You wouldn’t have stayed this long otherwise. I know
you’ll come around eventually.”
I shake my head because I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“What?”
“I’m better than that nerd who can’t even handle a little
teasing. And you know it. I don’t care that you’re not on
board yet. You will be. Besides,” she says, her words cold as
ice, “no one gets to reject me.”
“Sasha,” I sigh, “you could be happy with someone, I’m
sure. But it will never be me. And there’s nothing you can do
to make me change my mind.”
 I turn and walk back to the table, and she follows me. I’m
amazed that she’s so calm. I’m used to Sasha screaming and
raging when she’s pissed about something. The fact that
she’s not has me worried that there’s something that I’ve
missed. We sit back down at the table and I say, “As I was
saying, there’s something that we have to tell you.”
“We’re going to have a baby!” Sasha exclaims way too
loudly, and the entire restaurant turns to look. There’s
stunned silence at the table and Sasha turns, throwing her
arms around me in a hug. “Go along with this,” she
whispers, “or you’ll suddenly find that you cheated on every
residency exam you’ve ever had. And yes, there will be
proof.”
I can feel the blood draining from my face. Fuck.
She twists back to the table and smiles. They both look
shocked, but one after another they smile. “Well,” Dr. Pratt
says. “This is certainly unexpected. But I can’t say I’m
unhappy. Congratulations, son.” He holds out a hand to me
and I shake it.
“Your mother is going to be thrilled,” my dad says. I can
tell he’s not exactly happy with me for springing this on
him, but he’s not going to say anything now. Not in front of
Dr. Pratt. “She’d be even more thrilled if there’s a wedding
to help plan,” he says pointedly.
“We’ve talked about that,” Sasha says, putting a hand on
my arm. “We’re going to wait until after Adam’s residency,
so he can focus on his studies first. We’ll work out the details
of the wedding later.”
No we fucking will not. I don’t know what her plan is
here. How does she plan to produce a baby? Is she hoping
that we’re suddenly going to start having sex and I’m going
to get her pregnant? That’s not going to happen. I can’t do
this. Can she do this?
 My mind is racing, trying to figure out if she can do what
she says she can do. She probably can. Sasha has charisma
for days and seems to know everyone. It wouldn’t surprise
me at all, given who her father is, that she has friends on the
exam boards.
The wait sta of the restaurant is bringing the table
champagne, and a glass of grapefruit juice for Sasha. After
all, she is pregnant.
Somehow I manage to raise my glass and toast. But I can’t
speak. If I do the truth is going to come spilling out and I’m
going to risk everything that I’ve ever worked for. My dad
gives me a look, but I shake my head. I don’t know what he’ll
do if I tell him the truth. He’s so enamored by Dr. Pratt that
he’ll probably tell me to go along with it.
The fact that Dr. Pratt—Andrew—is one of the most
influential doctors in the country has gotten way too far
under his skin. I never should have gone along with this.
What did I know? Dating the boss’s daughter seemed like an
okay way to make him like me. Now I feel like such a fucking
idiot. Not only do I lose my career if I say anything now, but I
lose his respect because I’ve been lying the whole time.
Shit.
What am I going to do?
The only place I want to be is with Olivia. What am I going
to tell her? How do I tell her? How do I get out of this mess?
Because I have to get out of this. I'm not going to be stuck
with Sasha for the rest of my life because she's blackmailing
me. I'll think of something. I have to.
I feel like I'm in a fog as Sasha loops her arm in mine and
Dr. Pratt comes around the table to clap me on the back. My
father is looking at me like I'm crazy, because he's noticed
that I haven't said anything. I plaster a smile on my face
because it's the only way I'll get out of here. I haven't heard
a word that anyone's said either. Sasha could have said that
we were moving to Hawaii and I wouldn't know.
I stammer out some words thanking Dr. Pratt for the
lunch and his congratulations and make up something about
having to get ready to go to the hospital. He's my boss, but
he doesn't manage the residents. He won't know that I don't
have to be there until midnight.
Sasha grabs me and forces a kiss onto my cheek, and I try
not to shudder. I leave the restaurant, trying to keep my
breathing under control. I want to scream and shout and
punch something, but under all those thoughts is the one
that keeps pulsing along with my heartbeat. Ollie. Ollie. Ollie.
If I can just get to Ollie, somehow this will all be okay. It
has to be.
Please.
14
 OLLIE

I’m curled on the couch with a blanket and a book and the
cutest lounge clothes I own when the doorbell rings. I know
that it's Adam. He texted and said that he was on his way.
Just his text gave me butterflies in my stomach, and I went
out of way to make sure that I look good again. I mean,
normal lounge clothes for me are ratty sweats that are so
worn that they have comfort holes in them. Not tonight.
Tonight I look cute and I'm practically holding my breath
waiting for him to appear around the corner of the stairs.
And then he does, and my breath is knocked out of me all
over again.
He's not in his tux anymore, just simple jeans and t-shirt,
which doesn't make him any less devastating. "Hi," I say.
Adam doesn't hesitate, pulling me into a kiss right there
on the doorstep. I'm startled and god, I could live for
surprises like these. The kiss reaches down into my gut and
pulls, tugging pleasure and arousal through my whole body.
The kiss seems almost desperate, like he’s trying to convince
himself that I’m real.
"Hi," he says, when he pulls away, leaving me dazed. "I
missed you."
"Me too."
 I pull him into the apartment and shut the door, noticing
now that he has a messenger bag slung over his shoulder.
"Are you planning on staying over again?" I really wouldn't
mind that. In fact, I'd love it.
"I wish I could," he says, "but I have to be at the hospital
at midnight."
"Oh." I try not to show my disappointment.
"But," he says, "I'm going to stay as long as I can." Adam
slides his bag o his shoulder. "I kept my promise and
brought you a present, but I want you to close your eyes."
"Ooookay," I say. I don't usually love surprises, due
largely in part to the prom night incident, but I'll trust him
this time. I go into the living room and sit on the couch
again. If I'm going to have a surprise then I'm at least going
to be comfortable while I do it.
I feel his weight on the couch next to me, and he slips
something into my hands. It's a book. All right, a book is a
good surprise. But what book? "Can I open?"
"Yes."
I do, and...oh my god. I'm holding what must be the most
beautiful edition of World's Waterfall that I've ever seen. The
dust cover is embossed and has gold details and wow. "This
is beautiful," I say. Flipping the cover open, my stomach
does a little flip-flop. It's signed. I've always wanted a signed
copy of these books, but I've never had a chance. The author
is notoriously reclusive and almost never does signings.
"How did you get this?"
His smile is tiny and infuriating. "I have my ways."
"This is amazing, I mean, what made you think of this?"
Adam points to the bookshelf. "I saw those last night," he
says. "And I remembered that you liked them in high
school."
There's something in my chest and I'm not sure if it's
pain or relief or something entirely di erent. "You
remember that?"
"Of course I do,” he says. “I remember a lot more than
you probably think I do. Even if it’s stu you don’t want to
remember.”
“Yeah.”
He clears his throat. “It’s why I asked about your life. I
want to know about it, and I hope to god it was better than
high school because almost everyone in that school let you
down. Including me.”
“Adam,” I say. “That’s not your responsibility.”
“I know, but I still want to know everything.”
I hold the book to my chest—I don’t want to let it go yet.
“After college, Lorraine and I moved here together. We were
roommates for a while, but eventually we each wanted our
own space. It took a few years for me to get the job at my
firm, and I worked some weird temp jobs, but I look back on
those years happily, even if they were hard. I went through a
lot of therapy. All in all I’ve had a good life.”
He’s slipped closer while I was talking, and I’m aware of
the distance between us. “How are your parents?”
“You really want to talk about my parents right now?” I
ask, looking at his lips.
“I really want to know everything about you,” he says,
“but you’re right. Maybe it can wait.”
I put the book carefully down onto the co ee table, and
then I'm kissing him. He kisses me back, lips crushing mine
and god, I could kiss him forever. We collapse onto the couch
together, tangled together just like we were last night, but
this doesn't feel as charged. This feels deliciously
comfortable and comforting. Adam's hand slips behind my
neck, tipping my face closer to his so he can kiss me more
deeply, and I feel myself growing wet and that growing need
in my stomach that wants more of him and what we had last
night and this morning.
 Just like at the door, there's an edge to Adam's kiss, and I
suddenly remember where he just was. I pull back far enough
for me to see his face, and I love that we're this close,
pressed up against one another. "How did things go with
your dad?"
Adam's face darkens. "As well as they ever go with him, I
suppose."
"What happened?"
He doesn't say anything, but I feel like I watch a whole
journey on his face. Pain and desperation and fear, and
suddenly he focuses on me again, and it's like the rest of it
disappears. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about it yet."
There's a tiny stab of disappointment, but I check it. It's
hard to believe that this has been less than a day, but it has. I
can't expect him to confide in me like that yet. "That's
okay."
"Thank you," he kisses me softly and I melt against him.
My shirt has ridden up and now his fingers are teasing my
skin and it's driving me a little mad. "I'm going to be doing
marathon shifts at the hospital for a few days. I'll be sleeping
there. So I probably won't be able to see you, or call. I'll text
when I can."
"That's okay," I say, laughing. "It's your job."
"I just didn't want you to think that I was disappearing."
I smile. "Thank you."
Leaning in, he presses his lips to my neck, tasting me
with his tongue. "What were you doing before I got here?"
"Reading," I say. "Waiting for you."
"What were you reading?" His mouth is still on my skin,
hands pushing my shirt up further so I'm more exposed.
I try to focus on the question, but he's making it very
di cult. "A business book," I say. "So I can counsel my
clients better."
He chuckles. "How very responsible of you."
 "It's actually interesting."
"Tell me," he says, suddenly pulling me on top of him,
and tugging at my shirt until I let him tug it o . Now I'm
straddling him, looking down, and very much feeling how
hard he is under my hips.
"Umm..." I'm not sure how I'm supposed to talk when all
I can think about is fucking him. I can't remember any
words. What are words? Why do they matter when this is
happening?
Adam grins. "Go ahead."
"The book was about Parkinson's Law." He's undoing his
belt, and my mouth goes dry. I stammer out the rest. "Which
says that demand swells to meet supply."
"Isn't that backwards?"
"Not when you're talking about money," I say, transfixed
by him and his hands as he grabs his cock and rolls on a
condom. "Businesses get these infuses of money, and they
justify reasons to spend it, and suddenly they have no cash
flow."
"Fascinating," he says.
"Yeah."
"So," he tucks his fingers in the waistband of my pants
and tugs them down. "Along with the book, I brought a very
large box of condoms. Are you saying that the demand for
them is going to swell to meet the supply I brought?"
I rise up just enough to let him slip into me, and I moan.
"I think the demand for those was already there."
"Good," he says, thrusting up into me. From everything
last night and this morning, I'm just a little sore, but the tiny
edge of pain somehow makes the pleasure that much
sharper. I close my eyes, letting it wash over me as we roll
our hips together.
Lowering myself onto his chest, his arms come around
me, holding me close while he moves faster, thrusts deeper,
and I hold on, because it's perfect and my mind is blank and
I don't think I can move even if I wanted to.
Adam groans as he moves, one thrust after another after
another. My mouth is open in a silent cry, and I'm pulling in
breath after breath, just trying to hold on, to feel. Yes, sweet
god yes.
And then I'm on my back again. I'm not sure how I got
there, but Adam is above me and I can't look away. There's
something about this, I'm not sure what. I get why he didn't
want to fuck on the couch last night, but doing it now feels
real somehow. Like in this short time we went from being old
acquaintances to lovers and to a real and actual couple. It's
casual and breathtaking and I'm so close.
So close.
I take a breath and hold it, trying to make the moment
before—the pleasure pulsing and spinning and shimmering
—last. And then Adam drives in one more time and I can't
hold it. Everything explodes in golden fireworks behind my
eyes, and I shake underneath him. The orgasm is fast like an
adrenaline rush that fizzes through me, and it feels like
every nerve is overloaded at once, tingling up my spine and
outward before evaporating and leaving me cursing under
my breath.
Adam laughs, and then groans as he speeds up, so close
too. I grab his face and kiss him, opening my mouth to him
and showing him how much I loved that. I feel his breath
catch and he pushes in once more, holding deep inside me.
His cock jerks inside me as he comes, and he's kissing me
hard, not letting me go.
I'm not sure how long it takes us to come back. It's a
while, we're lost in each other and our kiss and the
aftermath of pleasure.
Adam pulls away, standing and disappearing into the
bathroom for a minute. I re-adjust my clothes, and when
Adam comes back, he lies down next to me again, and wraps
his arms around me.
"I'm so glad I bought a couch that's deep enough for
two."
His lips are pressed against my forehead, and I feel the
vibration when he laughs. "Me too." He breathes deep.
"Ollie, I know it probably feels like ten years too late, but I
like you."
I'm blushing even though he's not looking at my face.
"I really like you, and I want to make sure that you know.
That you don't think I'm just using the opportunity for sex."
"I hadn't thought that," I say, "but I'm happy that you let
me know. And I like you too. If I'm honest with myself, I
don't think that I ever stopped liking you."
His hold tightens a little, and the tiny gesture warms my
chest. "We're going to need to learn about each other as
adults."
"What's your favorite color?" I ask, laughing. "Like
that?"
"Blue, and yes, like that."
Leaning my forehead against his chest, I take a breath. "I
like purple, but not the dark purple. More like periwinkle. I
still love World's Waterfall even if it's nerdy. I want to travel
way more than I have, somewhere amazing like Greece or
Ireland or Sri Lanka. I do like my job, but I fantasize about
quitting and being a writer who lives by the beach. I want a
perfect wedding and kids someday, and no matter what I’ve
eaten, I will always make room for pizza."
I can feel him smiling. "That's a good list."
"It's your turn."
He takes a moment, and he does start to speak his voice
sounds di erent. Deeper, almost emotional. "I like my job,
but sometimes I want to run away and never come back. But
now, I'd take you with me."
 "That sounds nice."
One of Adam's hands moves up and tangles in my hair,
gently tugging on it until I tilt my face back to look up at
him. "Maybe someday."
"Where would we go?" I ask him as he touches his lips to
mine, barely a breath of a kiss.
"Anywhere. Those places you listed are great. We could go
to Cape Cod. Or Hawaii and have a hut on the beach. We
could go hiking and stay in a tent the whole time. Anywhere
but here."
There's something too real in his voice. "Are you okay?"
"Of course," he says, but there's a flash of pain in his eyes
that he doesn't entirely hide, and I don't dare ask what it is. I
can't push him for that. I don't have that right, yet.
"So," I say, changing the subject, putting on a smile.
"You like me. I like you. You're not using me for sex. So what
are we doing?"
"I want to know you," Adam says. "I want to date you.
And, if after a few dates you decide you still like me, I have
every intention of asking you to be my girlfriend. After that,
who knows?"
My breath catches in my chest. In high school, there's
almost nothing that I wouldn't have done to hear Adam say
something like that. And it feels just as good, if not more,
now. He wants me. He likes me.
"I like that plan," I say, yawning. I'm suddenly tired.
"When do you have to leave?"
"Not for a while."
I shake myself a little. "I don't want to fall asleep. Not
while you're here."
"Why not?" This smile is real and more like what I
already recognize as the real Adam.
"Because you're here, and it still feels new and like we're
on borrowed time."
 He brushes the hair back from my face. "We're not on
borrowed time. And if you're tired, you should sleep. I'll hold
you for as long as I can."
The butterflies in my stomach are totally out of control
right now, but the sudden burst of exhaustion is pulling me
down, and Adam tucks me closer to his body. His warmth is
so good, and I fade into what feels like total and complete
safety and comfort.
I don't know how long it is when I surface, Adam tucking
a blanket around my body. He's crouched down by me and I
reach out for his hand. "Don't go."
"Believe me, I don't want to." He kisses me softly. "But I
have to. I'll see you soon."
"Promise?"
"Promise." He finishes arranging the blanket around me,
and I hear his footsteps leaving as I fade back to sleep.
15
 OLLIE

Adam doesn't text the next day. Or the next. I start to get
nervous because even though he said all those nice things,
that was right after we'd had sex and he was happy. Who
knows, maybe he didn't mean it? My gut tells me he wasn't
lying but I can't make ten years of anxiety just evaporate.
I text Lorraine and all she texts back is an eye roll emoji.
Then,
Girl, that boy is so hooked on you, I can't believe you'd even
think that.
He isn't hooked on me.
Yes he fucking is. And don't argue with me.
It's my turn to roll my eyes, and I put my phone down
only to hear it buzz again.
If you're worried, why don't you bring him lunch or
something? Medical students eat like shit while they’re on these
kinds of shifts. Plus, you'd get to see him?
I mean...that could work?
What if he doesn't want me showing up at work?
If he doesn't, then that's not exactly a good sign. Like he wants
you to keep you a secret. If you're really worried, then this is a
good solution. It will tell you what he's thinking.
 I don't really like the idea of testing him when he doesn't know
what's happening.
I mean, you're not doing it as a test, you want to see him right?
Yeah, of course.
Well, then go see him. It's just a side e ect that his reaction to
you will show you a lot about where you stand.
I suppose that's true.
It is. Go get him.
It's almost the end of the workday, and I'm basically
killing time anyway. My boss knows that I do my work and
get it done, so he doesn't care when I come and go. He trusts
that whatever I need to do is in good hands.
I double-check that everything is taken care of before
packing up. I honestly have no idea what Adam likes to eat,
but I'm going to take a chance and pick up some pasta from
one of my favorite places. Pasta seems like a safe choice.
Most people like pasta, right? Besides, it has to be better
than hospital food either way.
For a second I debate going home to change out of my
really boring work clothes, but I'm way closer to the hospital
here at work. Going all the way back to Astoria and coming
back to Manhattan would easily take more than an hour, and
I don't want to waste that kind of time.
I place the order for the food before I head out the door.
This is one of my go-tos for lunch when I forget to pack one.
They're fast and delicious without being overly expensive.
When you find those qualities in a restaurant in New York,
it’s kind of like spotting a unicorn.
When I walk in the door ten minutes later, my food is
already packed and waiting, and it takes me less than five
minutes to pay and get out. Now that I'm committing, I feel
a buzz of excitement in my stomach. There's a small part of
me that thinks I should text him first, but fuck it, I want to
surprise him. And I definitely want to see how hot he looks
in scrubs.
I take a cab to the Upper East Side, not wanting to deal
with rush-hour delays on the subway. There's still a bit of
tra c, but I think it's faster. I have the cab drop me o at
the main entrance to the hospital. Now I just have to figure
out where exactly the pediatrics department is.
A friendly woman at the front desk gives me directions,
and I follow them as best I can through a maze of hallways
and a couple of elevators. I know that I've found the right
place when the elevator doors open and there's a giant
bulletin board filled with children's drawings right in front
of the door.
It's still very maze-like, but I find my way to a nurse’s
station. "Hi," I say to the woman dressed in pale pink scrubs.
"I'm looking for Dr. Carlisle."
"Are you the mother of a patient?" she asks.
"No," I say, blushing despite the fact that I have no
reason. "I'm...uhhh...I brought him dinner."
She smiles then. "Oh you must be the girlfriend. I'll page
him for you."
The girlfriend. He's already told people about me?
Something about that gives me a little twinge of happiness.
She speaks into the phone, paging him to the nurse’s station
and I wait, biting my lip with nervousness.
He comes around the corner, and damn, scrubs are a good
look for him. He could be a doctor from a TV medical drama
with how hot he looks. The dark blue sets o his tan skin and
blue eyes. It takes him a second to see me, but when he does,
he breaks into a huge smile. "What are you doing here?"
"I brought you food," I say.
Adams eyes go wide. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
 He laughs, pulling me in for a quick kiss. "You're a
lifesaver. Now I don't have to eat from the vending
machine."
"You guys don't have a cafeteria?" I ask as he takes my
hand and guides us away from the nursing station.
"We do, but trust me, you don't want to eat there. I do it
as little as possible. But we'll go there now, cause it's the
easiest place to eat."
I squeeze his hand. "I'm not interrupting anything?"
"You actually came at a really good time. Visiting hours
are almost over and I have to do my rounds in a little while.
But I can play hooky for a while."
"I'm glad," I say. "I was nervous you wouldn't be happy
with me just showing up. But I wanted to see you."
Adam lets go of my hand, instead wrapping his arm
around my hips as we walk. "This was an amazing surprise. I
haven't been able to get you out of my head, and I'm sorry I
haven't been able to text."
We take a set of stairs down one floor and through a set of
double doors to a sterile white room filled with tables and
chairs and a really depressing looking food line. "So what are
we having?" he asks as we grab a table o to the side.
I hand him the bag. "I didn't know what you liked, so I
thought that pasta was a safe bet."
He sticks his face in the bag and groans. "It's an amazing
bet. I love Italian and this smells fucking amazing. Thank
you."
I help him get the take-out containers out of the bag and
he steps away from the table to grab some plates and
silverware. "Where on earth did you get this?" he asks. "It's
really good."
I tell him about my unicorn Italian place and I think I may
have a new convert on my hands.
 "I wonder if I tip them really well if they'll deliver up
here," he says.
"Never know unless you try. And if they don't, I can
sometimes be your delivery service."
Adam smiles. "I'd like that."
"How are things here?"
His face falls a bit. "They've been a bit crazy. We had
some transfer cases that have all hands on deck. Just some
really sick kids. We're doing everything we can, but it's touch
and go at the moment."
I reach across the table and take his hand. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's not your fault. But we've all been running
around a little more than normal. Which is why I haven't
texted. I wanted to."
I shake my head. "Don't worry, I get it."
"As soon as I get out of here on Thursday I want to take
you out."
"You're done with your shifts then?"
He nods, taking another bite of spaghetti and sauce. "Yes,
and if you're not sick of it, I have an Italian restaurant of my
own that I'd love to take you to."
"Which one?"
"Del Posto."
I try to keep my mouth from falling open. Del Posto is an
amazing restaurant in lower Manhattan near the river. I've
know it's amazing because it's expensive and exclusive.
Adam smiles when he sees my face. "What?"
"You can get into Del Posto?"
"Sure."
I shake my head. "That's...insane."
"But you want to go?"
"Yes, of course I want to go!" I say it a little too loudly
and suddenly I'm looking around to make sure I didn't
startle any sick people. "I can't believe that's where you
want to take me. It's going to be way better than this," I
gesture to our food.
"Seriously, Ollie," he says, "this is amazing. You saved
me from having Cheez-Its for dinner."
I smile. "Okay."
"Come visit me whenever you want. I can't promise that
I'll be free, but I'll always try to come say hi." He lowers his
voice, "And if I have time, there's more than that I'll do."
"Oh?" I ask. "Do tell."
16
 ADAM

I can't believe she's here. The past two days I've barely had a
chance to breathe, and every time I run into Dr. Pratt, he
smiles at me like an idiot and I sink a little lower. I've
wanted to talk to Ollie, to hold her, anything, but I've barely
been able to eat. The fact that she brought me food without
even asking, it makes my chest ache. This is what I've been
missing.
Sasha has never done anything like this in our entire time
being "together." If she really cared, you might think that
she would show it. Or at least pretend. And that's why we're
not together. And why Ollie is sitting across from me with
that coy little smile on her face. I like the way her hair is
falling into her eyes and the way the buttons on her shirt are
a little too tight. I shift in my chair because I'm getting hard
and I can't actually take her on top of a table in the cafeteria
even if I desperately want to.
Her eyes are sparkling with mischief, and suddenly I'm
not hungry for more food. I glance on my watch. I still have a
little time. "I could show you, if you wanted."
She clears away what little is left of the food into the
nearest trashcan and I take her back upstairs and to one of
the on-call rooms. I glance both ways just to make sure that
Dr. Pratt isn't around before we slip inside and I lock the
door.
"I swore this only happened on TV," she says.
"You'd be surprised at the amount of drama from those
shows that's pretty close to reality," I say, loving the way her
face lights up like she's just won a prize.
"I like you in scrubs," she says, voice suddenly low and
intense. And I'm frozen in place because Ollie's on her knees
and has my pants down and her mouth on me before I can
blink. I sink back against the door, overwhelmed by the heat
of her mouth oh my cock. "Shit, Ollie."
She hums, and god, the way that feels makes me want to
lose it. But I'm not going to. Not yet.
She teases me with her tongue, swirling around the tip of
my cock and licking downward and back up. I can't breathe
because damn it feels good.
My whole body is tense. Just the fact that Ollie is here and
willing to do this is enough to make me come, and the only
way I'm going to last is gritting my teeth and hanging on as
long as I can.
Ollie rises up on her knees, and dives down onto my cock.
The sound that comes from my throat is barely human, but I
can't help it. I'm sheathed in soft, perfect heat, and she's
sucking me like it's the one thing she was made to do. I hit
her throat and I clench my jaw. I'm not small, and she has
almost all of me inside. Holy fuck.
I look down and see her lips wrapped around me, and my
cock jerks. It's one of the hottest things I've ever seen. Then
she looks up, and Ollie’s green eyes on mine, mouth
stretched on my cock. Oh my god.
She sucks back up my shaft and dives down again and I
can't hold on. "Ollie," I manage, just a second before
pleasure shoots from my balls into my cock and up into my
spine. Waves of warmth and pleasure rocket through me, so
intense I lose my vision. And through it I can still feel Ollie
sucking.
"Jesus, Ollie," I say, bracing myself on the door. She grins
at me, giving my cock a saucy lick before I pull her o her
knees and onto the bed. "Food and you," I say. "This really
was the best surprise I could have asked for."
She giggles and the happiness in that sound gets under
my skin, and for a second I don't feel like everything is
hopeless. Like maybe we can actually have this.
I undo the buttons on her shirt one at a time, kissing
every inch of skin that I reveal. I like the way I can hear her
little gasps as I kiss her, like every touch is a shock.
The bra she's wearing is simple and black, and that's just
as sexy as wearing lingerie because I know this was spur of
the moment for her. She decided to come see me and she
came as she was, she didn't think she needed to dress up or
do anything di erent, and I love that.
Ollie moans softly as I play with her breasts. I've never
known a woman who gets so turned on by this and it makes
me hard again. I've never done this in an on-call room
before, though I know plenty of others who have.
Dipping down, I trace her belly button with my tongue,
and my hand is on the zipper of her pants when there's a
knock on the door, and the handle rattles. "Dr. Carlisle?"
It's Darcy, the nurse on duty. Shit. "Yes?"
"You're needed in the PICU."
"I'll be right there." I rest my head on Ollie's stomach.
"I'm sorry, I have to go."
She sits up, quickly buttoning her shirt, and there's a
blush on her face. She's embarrassed. "It's okay."
I tilt her face up to mine and kiss her, deep as I can for the
moment I can spare. "I owe you several orgasms and one
amazing Italian dinner."
"Yes, you do," she says, grinning.
 "I'll text you tonight, okay?"
"Okay."
I press my lips to hers one final time before adjusting my
clothes and jogging out of the room. A PICU call is one that I
can't ignore. I didn't hear them page me on the overhead and
they didn't actually page me—probably because Darcy
already knew where I was. I'm hoping it’s something that I
can help, and that I'm not too late.

Thankfully the call wasn't an emergency, even though all

PICU calls are treated that way as a matter of course. One of
our kids had thrown up. He's already too small and the vomit
could be a sign of something worse, but I think it's just an
upset stomach. None of his other vitals are in bad shape. I'm
doing tests just to be safe.
I told the parents and now I'm heading to the locker room
to get my phone. I'm keeping my word that I'm going to text
Ollie tonight. Who knows, maybe I can convince her to send
me some pictures. I wasn't finished with her, and that
unfinished business is now rising in my pants.
"Adam!"
A chill goes down my spine, and I turn to find Sasha and
her father walking down the hallway toward me. She waves
enthusiastically. I wait for them to catch up to me. "Hello," I
say, letting her kiss my cheek. It's the one thing I'll let her
do.
Dr. Pratt's hand lands on my shoulder. "Sasha came by to
say hello and tell me that your first sonogram is next week."
I look at Sasha. "I didn't know that."
"Yep!" she says. "All scheduled."
"I'll let you two have a moment alone," Dr. Pratt says.
"Adam, meet me for rounds when you're finished."
 "Yes, sir."
I wait until he's around the corner before I turn on Sasha.
"A sonogram? How exactly are you going to explain to the
technician that you are completely not with child?"
She waves a hand. "It will be fine. I'll have a tragic
miscarriage before then."
"Do you know anything about pregnancy or did you just
read the cover of a magazine? You're barely at the stage
where you can tell you’re pregnant. How exactly are you
going to pull o knowing that you had a miscarriage? Not to
mention the fact that you're treating something very painful
for a lot of people like it doesn't mean anything."
She looks at me, and her eyes narrow. "The only thing
that means anything is that you and I are together, and we're
going to stay that way. I know you don't see it that way, but
trust me, it's for your own good. You may not see it now, but
you will."
"Fuck o , Sasha."
Slipping closer to me, her face softens, and I've seen that
face before when she's going to try to get what she wants. "I
see you're having a little bit of a problem," she says,
glancing down at my pants. "I can help you with that."
She reaches for me, and I catch her by the wrist. "Don't
ever touch me. You're blackmailing me into being with you.
What makes you think I would ever let you touch me?"
Sasha pouts. "Come on, Adam. What can you possibly see
in that slut that I don't have?"
"Maybe the fact that even though you've tried to ruin her
life multiple times, she would never call you a slut." I turn
and walk away from her, not looking back. Jesus, I need to
get out of this mess, but I still don't know how.
I make it to the locker room without another interruption,
and grab my phone. It's time for me to get a few hours of
sleep, and for me to text Ollie.
17
 OLLIE

I've barely gotten home when my phone buzzes in my

pocket. I'm smiling before I even see the screen.

I told you that I would text you.

I'm glad you did.

I pause before sending another message.

Is everything okay? PICU?

Yes, thankfully it wasn't a real emergency. Now I get to take a

nap, or...

Or...?
I unlock my door and go inside, and suddenly the phone
rings. I look at the screen, and it's Adam video calling me. I
hit the green button as I lock the door behind me, and
Adam's face appears. He's smiling, lying down on a bed
which I'm pretty sure is the same bed we almost had sex on.
"Long time no see," I say.
"I see you're home."
"You are correct." I drop my purse and kick o my shoes
and walk with him into my bedroom. "And you still haven't
told me what you meant by 'or...'"
He stretches, putting one of his arms behind his head and
I'm distracted by the way that position shows o the
muscles in his arm. "I thought my calling might have been
an indication."
What he means suddenly hits me, and I freeze. "Oh." I
blink. "I've never done that before."
"If you don't want to, that's fine."
"No," I say, "I want to." God, I want to. I want to see him
as much as I can, and I was disappointed that we were
interrupted, even though I would never stop him from doing
his job. "I just, don't know what to do."
"This time," he says, voice low, "I'll tell you what to do."
The way his voice cuts through the silence in my room,
everything I felt in that little room comes rushing back and
I'm ready.
"There will be a next time?"
He grins, "I still have a year of this ahead of me, and as
much as I wish that I could sneak you in here for sex every
night, I don't think that would work."
"No, probably not."
His face suddenly goes serious and sexy. "Unbutton your
shirt."
 My stomach drops. "Now?"
"Now."
"You don't know if I live alone, you know. You never
asked."
Adam raises an eyebrow. "Do you live alone?"
"Yes."
"Are you nervous?"
I swallow. "Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Olivia," he says, and the way his voice caresses my name
makes me shiver. "I've touched you. I've tasted you. My
tongue, fingers, and cock have all been inside you. My cock
has been in your mouth. I've sucked on your breasts. All of
that happened without a camera in-between us."
My face flames red, and I close my eyes because I'm
embarrassed and incredibly aroused at the same time. "It's
di erent."
"It's not." There's a rustling, and I open my eyes to see
that he's taken o his shirt. "I'm going first." His free hand
dips below the scope of the camera and there's more
rustling. "See? Now I'm naked."
He slowly and pointedly pans the camera down his body
and I take in his abs and legs and his very erect cock.
"I'm not sure I did a good enough job taking care of you if
you're still that hard."
"That's not true," he says. "I just didn't have enough of
you."
I meet his eyes through the camera, and there's a pull in
my chest and my gut, and there's a feeling that this is more
than what we both thought.
"I don't think I'll ever have enough of you," he says
softly.
 There's a silence that hangs between us, like something
big is begging to be said, but it can't be. Not while we're
chatting like this. Adam clears his throat. "Unbutton your
shirt, Ollie."
I do, and suddenly I laugh. "This is harder than I thought
with one hand."
"I'll buy you a little stand for your phone."
"I'll be your own personal cam girl?"
"Something like that, yeah." I get my shirt unbuttoned
and go to shrug it o my shoulders. "No," he says, "Not
yet."
I stop. "Why?"
"You're nervous," he says. "So I want you to do exactly
what I say, and nothing else."
My stomach drops again, and the heat from my blush
shifts downward. "Okay."
"Put down the phone, take o your pants and your bra.
Leave your panties on and your shirt unbuttoned."
My pussy clenches, and I'm not sure why him instructing
me to take o my clothes is so hot, but it is. I can feel the
slickness gathering between my legs, and I press them
together in an attempt to stop my arousal from growing. It
doesn't work.
I get back on the bed and lay back, breathing for a second
before I pick up the phone again. In the little camera that
shows me, I see what he sees. Oh. The two sides of my shirt
are barely covering my breasts, and it's sexy. He knows what
he's doing.
Adam groans. "You look good, baby."
"I feel good."
His free hand drops out of the shot again, and I know that
he's touching himself. God, it's sexy knowing that. Slowly, I
can feel my anxiety about this dropping away.
"Are your nipples hard?"
 They are. They always are when I'm aroused. Now that I
think about it, they basically get hard whenever I'm within a
few feet of Adam. I nod.
"Show me."
I pull back one side of my shirt, and then the other, so
that the fabric falls on either side of me and I'm completely
bared to him. There's something breathless and exciting
about it. He's seen me before, but not like this.
"Touch them. Touch them like I would touch them."
My anxiety surges again, and I hesitantly lift my hands to
my nipple. I've done this plenty of times alone, but with him
watching..."Ollie, close your eyes."
I do.
"Touch yourself."
Drawing my fingers across my skin, I feel the little
goosebumps that form after my fingers leave. With my eyes
closed, it's easier to pretend that he's here and I'm not the
one touching myself. I circle my nipple, slowly rolling it
between my thumb and forefinger and tugging. My body
responds the way it always does, with heat and wetness and
wanting more.
"Switch," he says softly, and I do, working my other
nipple until they're both so hard and sensitive that just the
stirring of air from my fan is making shiver.
"God, I love your tits," he says with a groan. "I want to
fuck them."
I moan. That image turns me on. I want to feel his cock
sliding between my breasts. I know he'll come and I sure
will. "Yes," I say. "Please."
"I'm going to," he says. "I'm going to straddle you and
fuck your tits until we both come."
The pressure is building in my core and I switch my hand
back to my other breast without him telling me to, but I need
it. I need it.
 I'm pulling harder now, god, I wish Adam were here. I
need his mouth on me, I need him to suck and lick and I
throw my memory back to that night and I imagine the
feeling while I toy with my nipples, and I'm so close, and—
"Stop."
Adam's voice penetrates the haze in my brain. "Ollie,
stop."
"Why?" I gasp, barely able to pull my hand away from
myself.
The pleasure that was building fades a little, until it's
manageable. I open my eyes and see him, staring at me, I can
feel the lust and the need even through the camera.
"Trust me," he says.
I put my hand down by my side, trying to catch my
breath. Adam's arm is moving, and he lowers the camera so I
can see his cock and his hand stroking it. "See how much I
like watching you?" he asks. The tip of his cock is glistening,
and I can see the sheen of sweat on his skin when he brings
the camera back to his face.
"You stopped me."
"I did."
"Why?" I ask again.
"Because now I want your hand in your panties and your
fingers on your clit and I want you to show me."
At this point I don't think I should be able to blush, but
the way he says it, so blunt and open has the blood rising to
my chest and face but I still find myself putting my hand
between my legs. The minute I touch my clit every bit of
arousal floods back like fire, and I aim the camera
downward, though I know not much is visible.
"Good. Look at me."
I bring the camera back up to my face, but I don't stop
moving my fingers. "I can't stop," I tell him.
"Don't." he says. "Keep going. Come with me."
 I close my eyes, and I let go, moving my fingers, drawing
the pleasure up and out in the way I know works best, and
within a minute I'm so close that I'm arching backwards on
the bed. And suddenly it's there, I cry out, loud in my empty
apartment, coming on my hand and oh god shit yes fuck.
"Yes, Ollie," Adam moans, and his breath is ragged as he
comes too.
I let the orgasm go, let it flow through me, making me
shake and go blind for a few seconds before my body goes
limp, sated.
"Adam," I say.
"Olivia."
I laugh breathlessly. "That was good."
"Yes, it was," he says. “Just one of several orgasms I owe
you."
Rolling over on my side, I prop myself up on my elbow
which drapes my shirt in a flirtatious and scandalous way.
"Well I'm looking forward to the rest of them."
"Me too," he says, yawning. "But I should get sleep. If
not, I'm going to be dead on my feet in a few hours."
"Will you text me tomorrow?"
"I will," he says, "and you make sure you're ready for
Thursday. I'm picking you up and taking you out."
"Okay." I can't keep the smile o my face.
"Okay."
He's smiling too, and there's some empty air where we're
both smiling each other and neither of us wants to hang up.
"Good night, Ollie."
"Good night, Adam."
He ends the call and I immediately pull up a text message
to Lorraine.

Girl, I have some stu to tell you.

18
 OLLIE

I step into the co ee shop and find Lorraine waving me

down. She's already ordered me a chai and I sink into the
seat across from her gratefully.
"I don't have super long," I say. "I left early yesterday to
go to the hospital, so shorter lunch today."
"That's fine," she says, watching me take a sip of the
chai. "But I need details sister, I'm not going to forgive you
for not texting me everything if you don't give me some
details!"
I laugh, nearly choking on my drink. "What do you want
to know?"
"Everything!" she says way too loudly. "How did it go at
the hospital? What happened after?"
I can't stop laughing, but I manage to tell her everything
—sparing the dirtiest of details because I'm still not used to
this and I’m not about to tell her the size of Adam's cock or
just how far I managed to get it down my throat.
But by the end of the story Lorraine's jaw is hanging
open. "I am seriously impressed, Ollie."
"Why?"
"Because this is so unlike you! Let's face it, we both know
I'm the slutty one in the friendship. And now you're sleeping
with people and having phone sex and–oh my god–I'm so
happy I'm rubbing o on you."
I can't stop laughing and I can't breathe. "Stop it. You're
not rubbing o on me."
"I totally am. You'll thank me later."
"Can you hook me up for tomorrow though?" I ask. I hate
asking for her help again in the dress department but I'm
just not that fancy and I don't own anything pretty enough
for Del Posto.
"Of course, you know I've got you."
Which is how I end up back in the Bergdorf's make-up
chair on Thursday afternoon with Maren doing my make-up.
"This time," she says, waving my eyes closed, "we're going
full on sexy. Smoky eyes, dark lips. He's not going to be able
to take his eyes o you."
Or his hands, I finish in my head.
When I open my eyes again, I barely recognize myself. I
look like someone who should be on a red carpet, not...me.
"Maren," I say. "You're a miracle worker."
She sticks her tongue out. "I know."
Lor is waiting for me in the dressing room. "Okay, I've
got the perfect thing." She pulls a dress of the rack with a
flourish. It's a deep purple color, deeper than I usually like
but it's gorgeous in this dress. Immediately I know that I
want to try it on.
I'll never understand how Lorraine has such an eye for
this. "I just need you to pick out all my clothes, all the time,"
I tell her through the curtain.
"Name the day, girlfriend. You know that I've been dying
to get my hands on your wardrobe."
The dress has an o -the-shoulder neckline and a skinny
waist with a flouncy skirt that ends at my knees. It feels like
something out of the 1950s with a modern flare. It’s
absolutely perfect. I push the curtain back. "This is amazing.
You've got shoes?"
She hands me a pair of black and purple heels, and I slip
them on and stand on the same pedestal I stood barely a
week ago. Stunning! "I don't know how you do it, Lor."
"I'm magic."
"Yes, you are, and I owe you one."
"Girl, as long as you get some you don't owe me a damn
thing."
I laugh. "I still haven't sent you the box of chocolates for
last week."
"Chocolate doesn't have an expiration date, and I'm
always accepting. So no worries." She tugs me down o the
pedestal. "Now get going or you're going to be late and I'm
not going to have all my amazing work ruined by a late
entrance."
I roll my eyes. "Fine. I love you."
"Love you too, bitch! Go get some ass." She waves as she
heads back to her department. I know she still has some
clients to see today, so I'm grateful that she had time to
work with me.
There's no way I'm getting on the subway and potentially
ruining all of their hard work, so I catch a cab back to my
apartment. I'm just on time to get back upstairs and pretend
that all this magic was made by myself, though I'll gladly
spread the gospel of Lorraine if given a chance.
I'm too nervous and excited to sit down or relax, so I
make myself a cup of tea in the kitchen, slipping o the
heels until I absolutely need them.
It's not long. Adam is punctual, and he rings the doorbell
a couple minutes before he was supposed to arrive. I buzz
him up, but this time I don't open the door and wait.
Lorraine put in the work, and I'm going to give it the grand
reveal that it deserves.
 I stay in the kitchen until he knocks, and then I answer
the door. The way his face goes slack and his eyes go dark as
they take me in is totally, totally worth it. "Ollie," he says,
and everything on his face says that he's awed and
impressed.
I've never seen anyone look at me that way before. I like
it.
"Hi."
"You look amazing."
"Thank you."
I step aside and he comes in, never taking his eyes o me.
Maren was right. And now I get the chance to look at him. He
looks predictably amazing in a suit that was clearly tailored
for him. It has a soft sheen to it that makes it almost
shimmer in the light, and he looks like he stepped out of a
magazine ad. Then again, thanks to Maren and Lorraine, so
do I. We make quite the pair tonight.
"Am I allowed to kiss you in that make-up?"
"You're allowed to kiss me anytime," I say, "Make-up be
damned."
"Good," he says, pulling me in for a kiss that makes my
knees go weak. "I missed you."
It doesn't feel like we've been apart long enough to be
missed, but I know what he's saying. This feels good, being
together. "Yeah," I say. "Me too." I grab my little purse o
the kitchen counter. "Should we go?"
Adam smiles. "We have a little time, and I need to take
care of something first."
"What?"
"Something I owe you."
I don't understand, and then I do, because Adam is
kneeling in front of me, gathering my skirts and pushing
them aside so his head is between my legs. I'm wearing a
lacy thong that Lorraine gave me for under the dress, and
Adam's tongue run across the tiny patch of fabric. "Adam," I
gasp. "What are you doing?"
He doesn't say anything, but pushes the thong aside and
seals his mouth over my clit, sucking it deep and hard, and I
have to brace myself against the wall, just like he did in the
hospital. Oh god, of course.
Adam's mouth is hard and insistent, stroking me with his
tongue in long steady strokes that are bringing me higher,
arousing me faster than anything I thought possible. Just
when I think I'm about to break, he changes his pattern,
moving down and sliding inside me, stroking again and
again and then back up to swirl and suck and graze his teeth
against me.
I'm balanced on my heels and against the wall and I don't
know how he's so fucking good at this. Little strokes now,
faster and faster and focused on my clit. There's pressure
building and I'm resisting the urge to hike up my dress and
grab his head and push him closer. Adam sucks one more
time, and I tip over the edge, a swirling storm of pleasure
spiraling up and out from my clit, and my legs nearly give
out. I can't breathe or see, just feel his tongue on me,
continuing this pleasure. It blows through me and leaves me
new and fresh and finished.
"God," I say, sinking further against the wall.
One final, long lick across my pussy and Adam replaces
my thong and then he's out from under my dress, smirking
at me.
"I did tell you that I owed you orgasms."
"I know," I say. "I just...wasn't expecting that."
He braces his arms on either side of me, pressing close. "I
don't think pleasure is a thing that should happen only when
you expect it," he says. "And I plan on trying to give you as
much unexpected pleasure as I can."
"Okay." I can't pretend that I'm mad about that.
"Now," he says, "We can go."
19
 ADAM

Del Posto isn’t a place that I’ve been a whole lot, but it’s
owned by some family friends so I know I can get a
reservation when I need one. I hold Ollie’s hand in the cab
ride to the restaurant, and it feels so natural that I don’t
want to let go. She looks fucking fantastic, even better when
she had the flush of the orgasm that I gave her.
I’m tempted to ravish her in the back of the cab, but
despite our little sexual encounter in her foyer, tonight isn’t
about that. I want to talk to her. Listen to her. I want to know
her for who she is now and not for who I remember her in
high school. I want to show her that it’s not just sex that I
want. I want so much more than that.
We’re lucky that the weather is pretty perfect today. T the
sun is beginning to set when we pull up to the front of the
restaurant, which is perfect because I know exactly where
we’re sitting. The view is going to be gorgeous.
I help her out of the cab, and I love just watching her.
Ollie has such pure reactions to things. I feel like I’m reading
a book whenever I look at her face, and I just want to keep
reading. She’s looking at the restaurant with a mix of awe
and excitement, and if she’s this psyched about the outside,
she’s going to lose her mind when she actually tastes the
food.
“I still can’t believe we’re going here.”
“The owner is a family friend,” I say.
She shakes her head in disbelief. “Good friends to have.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” I take her hand again, and we enter
the restaurant. “Carlisle,” I say to the hostess, and we don’t
have to wait at all. We’re led back to one of their more
private tables on a balcony that overlooks the Hudson River,
and the breeze o the water is the perfect antidote to the
remaining afternoon heat. I pull out Ollie’s chair and she
sits, her dress pu ng out beneath her.
I have an image in my head of us sinking into bed
together, and fucking her while surrounded by all those
layers of skirt. I wonder if I can make that happen later
tonight.
Sitting across from her, the light is streaming from
behind her and it’s such a perfect picture that I pull out my
phone. “I need a picture of this,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because the lighting is perfect, and I need a picture of
you for my long and lonely nights at the hospital.”
Ollie blushes, and I snap the picture right as she looks
away toward the river. It’s perfect. Gorgeous. A person is
suddenly by our table, and I look up. “Anton,” I say, “hello.”
I stand and hug him. “I didn’t know you would be here
tonight.”
“When you called for a reservation, I thought it had been
so long that I needed to see you and say hello.” He looks over
at Ollie. “And who is your lovely companion?”
“This is Olivia Mitchell.”
He holds out a hand and she takes it. “It’s nice to meet
you, Olivia Mitchell. I hope you know that you have an
excellent young man here.”
 “I do know that,” she says, smiling.
Anton turns back to me. “Tonight you’re getting the
chef’s finest. I’ll make sure they take care of you.”
I shake his hand. “I appreciate that. Next time I come, you
and I will have a drink.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Nodding to Ollie, he says, “It was
lovely to meet you.”
“You too,” she says.
And then he’s gone as quickly as he appeared. “Anton
never stops moving,” I say. “He’s always chatting with
patrons and his friends and sometimes he cooks too. He
cares more about this restaurant and food more than any
person I’ve ever met.”
“He seems nice,” she says, laughing. “From the thirty
seconds he was here.”
“He is, and if he says that he’s making sure our food is
amazing, it will be.”
Our waiter appears with wine, and pours us each a glass.
“So,” she says, “you have a couple days o now?”
“I do, and I was actually going to ask you about that.”
Ollie makes a sarcastic face. “You were going to ask me
about your days o ?”
“In a way, yes.”
“Okay?”
“I actually have two things that I need to ask you.” I take
a sip of wine ad clear my throat. “I was wondering if you
wanted to go away this weekend. My family has a house out
on the island. No one is there, and I want to just—”
“Yes,” she says. “Hell yes. Did you think I would say no?”
“I mean, I know it’s fast.”
She shakes her head, and the sun catches her hair,
distracting me. “Seriously, I’d love to.” Then she lowers her
voice. “We can’t seem to keep our hands o each other, and
a big house where we’re all alone seems like the perfect place
to get some of that out of our system.”
I grin. “My thoughts exactly.”
“What’s the second thing?”
I sigh, this one is trickier. “My mother is hosting a party
next week. I’d like you to come.”
“You don’t sound as happy about that one.”
“I’m not,” I say. “Though that has nothing to do with
you. I generally don’t love my parents’ parties. Imagine all
the parents of the people in our class and you have the
people that populate those circles.”
“Oh.”
I laugh. “Yeah. It’s a real fun time.”
Ollie spins her wineglass on the table, and watches the
watery reflection of light on the table. The truth is, I don’t
know how I’ll be able to get myself out of my predicament by
the party, but if worse comes to worse, I want Ollie to be
there. But I need some way to warn her about what might
happen if she goes. How can I tell her about Sasha without
breaking her heart all over again? That’s the last thing that I
want, especially since what we have is so new and so good. I
don’t want to break it.
“Hey,” Ollie says gently. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry.”
She reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “You
have nothing to be sorry for. But you can tell me what’s
wrong.”
How can I? “I’m not sure how.”
“Is it a problem at work?”
“Kind of,” I sigh. “I…agreed to something a few years ago
that I thought would help my career. But it wasn’t the right
choice to make. It’s kind of so obvious now that I’m not sure
how I didn’t see it then. But because of that choice, there’s a
couple people, my father included, who are making it hard to
get o that path.”
“Did it help?”
“My career?” She nods. “Maybe. I think I probably could
have done just fine on my own.”
She takes another sip of her wine, the breeze catching her
hair and blowing it into her eyes for a second while she looks
at the river. “And you can’t…get out of this?”
“I’m trying.”
The way she’s looking at me, searching, it’s like I can feel
her stare in my chest. “What’s stopping you?”
“I’m not sure that doing what I did helped my career, but
it’s made clear to me that reversing it would definitely hurt
it.”
Ollie frowns. “And you can’t tell me what it is? Maybe I
could help.”
I brush my thumb across the back of her hand. “I wish I
could,” I say, and I really do. “But I can’t right now.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to pull her hand away. “I
shouldn’t have asked.”
I don’t let her pull away. “Of course you should have.
Believe me, this would be easier if I could just talk about it.
Hopefully soon I’ll be able to.”
She smiles, and it’s a little sad. “Well I’m sorry that you
have to deal with it at all.”
“Me too.”
I look out over the river for a second, and then back at
Ollie. My eyes follow the line of her dress, and I’m distracted
by her collarbones, sweeping gracefully out to her shoulders.
“So… is Italian your favorite?” I say, asking a question to try
to change the subject and bring back the lighthearted feeling
that got lost in me almost admitting everything.
“Yeah,” she says. “I love Italian. I think my second
favorite is probably traditional American diner food. I can
really go for a burger now and then.” Our waiter appears
with the first course, what looks like a small portion of
artisanal fettuccini alfredo, and Ollie grins. “But yeah,
Italian is my favorite.”
“It’s my favorite too,” I say. “Though I can always go for
Thai too.”
“Mmm.” She groans as she takes a bite the pasta. “This is
amazing. And so is Thai.”
I take my own bite, and she’s right. The pasta is creamy
with the right proportion of pasta and sauce. Anton really
has a talented chef here. I have to make sure that I tell him
that the next time I see him.
“Now you can tell me about your parents,” I say.
She laughs. “They’re fine. They still live in the same
house, still have the same routines. I think you’d like them.”
“I’m sure I would.”
She shakes her head. “They’re definitely not in the same
circles as your parents.”
“I think that probably ensures that I’ll like them more.”
“Maybe,” she laughs. “They’ll do their best to embarrass
me when you meet them. Be forewarned.”
“If I get to see you blush more, it works in my favor.”
At my comment, she blushes, and just like that, our magic
is back. We fall back into the get-to-know-you game, and
it’s easier to forget the little blip. I wish I could confide in
Ollie, I wish that I’d had the strength to say no when my
father insisted. I wish that it were anyone but Sasha that was
the problem. If it were anyone but her, this would be so
much easier.
But it’s not.
And I can’t let tonight be about that. If I let it take over
my mind, I’ll go mad with guilt and I’ll end up exploding the
nuclear bomb that is my life. So I focus on Ollie and how
beautiful she is, and everything that I’m learning about her.
 She’s an only child, which I knew. Her parents moved out
of the city to rural Pennsylvania to retire. Her favorite
vacation spot is the beach, any beach, and besides her love of
World’s Waterfall, she’s also hugely and nerdily obsessed with
origami. I didn’t see any at her apartment, but then I wasn’t
looking for it.
I tell her about medical school and some of the crazy
shenanigans that my friends and I got into while we were
there. I tell her the story of how we played a prank on one of
our teachers using a live goldfish, and the story of how I
nearly broke my spine out of stupidity.
We laugh together, and drink wine, and by the time all of
the five courses have passed we’re both stu ed with
delicious Italian food and just drunk enough that everything
is perfect and glowing and happy. “My place?” I ask as we
exit the restaurant into the gathering cool of evening.
“Yes,” she says, pulling me down for a kiss in the middle
of the street.
And that’s that.
20
 OLLIE

I knew that Adam and his family were rich, but wasn’t
expecting the absolutely gorgeous apartment building that
the cab lets us out in front of on the Upper West Side. Old
architecture and a quiet street, it’s almost unassuming but it
still speaks of the kind of wealth that a lot of the established
families of New York have. It’s on Riverside Drive, which
means it’s going to have my second gorgeous view of the
river today.
We go inside, and unlike my building, Adam’s has an
elevator. Thank god, I’m so stu ed full of Italian food that
I’m not sure I could walk up six flights of stairs right now. I
can’t help but notice that we’re in comfortable silence.
That’s not typical, at least for me. Most of my silences are
awkward. But this feels nice, just existing next to each other
without having to fill up the space with words words words.
Adam unlocks the door to the apartment, and…holy shit.
It’s giant and tastefully decorated in shades of grey and blue,
with big windows in the living room, and it’s spotless.
My jaw drops. “First, this place is amazing. Second, you
told me your place was messy!”
Adam grins, “I told you that to make you feel better. You
were freaking out because you thought your apartment was
messy.”
“It was messy.”
“You and I have di erent ideas about what’s messy,” he
chuckles.
I move further into the living room and look out the
windows that overlook the Hudson and Riverside Park. It’s
so beautiful. And then I turn my attention to the other
gorgeous thing in the room: a massive built-in bookshelf
with a truly great collection of books. There are quite a few of
the same books that I have, and some that I’ve been wanting
to read. And then, I see them. On the top shelf, the entire
World’s Waterfall series.
“Wait a second,” I say, pointing. “You’ve read those?”
Adam smiles, seeming almost embarrassed. “Yeah.”
“When?”
He laughs. “I was obsessed with them the same time you
were, in high school.”
My mind flashes back to that day in the gym when he told
me that he hoped I had a chance to finish the book. It was
because he loved that book too! “Why didn’t you say
anything?”
“My father hated them,” he says. “He didn’t want his kid
to be a nerd, or rather, he didn’t want a kid that would read
those type of books. He wanted someone masculine and
smart. Someone who could become a successful doctor.
“In his defense, I think it was at least partially out of love
and not ego. He was afraid that I’d be bullied the same way
he was, and he didn’t want that for me. So I hid my inner
nerd and moved on, and it’s honestly just become a habit to
not talk about it.”
I cross the room to him and pull him into a kiss, “I wish
I’d known this then,” I say. “I wouldn’t have been so afraid
to talk to you.”
“You were afraid to talk to me?”
 “You were Mr. Popular, and I was very, very not. Of
course I was afraid to talk to you.”
He laughs. “I’m sorry. Guess we were both freaking out
about the same things. I was so nervous to talk to you. I
thought you’d blow me o because I was popular. But I guess
what matters is what we know now, right?”
“Right,” I say. “We’re both nerds. I’m glad I know.”
Suddenly I freeze. “So, at the reunion, I guess that you
noticed that—”
“The dress you were wearing is shockingly similar to the
one Rienne wears when she and Colbert first have sex? Yeah,
I noticed.”
I’m really blushing, truly fiery red. “Lor found it and she
knew that it was like that dress and she thought it would
make me more confident.”
Adam pulls back, taking me in. “You don’t have to justify
why you were wearing it. You looked beautiful. You would
have looked beautiful whatever you were wearing. I can’t say
that it didn’t cross my mind though.”
“I can’t believe that I didn’t know.” I look back at the
bookshelf and suddenly my stomach drops. The books on the
shelf are the same kind of gorgeous copies like he gave me,
and the first book is missing. “Did you give me your signed
copy?”
“Yeah.”
Wow. “That’s…amazing. But don’t you want it?”
“I want you to have it. The copy you have is still the beat
up ones from ten years ago.”
“Thanks.” It was a nice gesture when I thought that he
bought it for me. Now that I know it is one of his own books,
it feels completely di erent. Way more intimate and special.
Adam heads towards the kitchen. “Let me grab us some
drinks,” he says. I think he needs a moment, and I let him
go. I keep looking through his bookshelf. I’ve found that you
can tell a lot about a person by which books they do—or
don’t—read. John Waters famously said, ‘If you go home
with somebody and they don’t have any books, don’t fuck
‘em.’
Adam, thankfully, seems to have a lot of good books. On
the table by the couch I see a copy of the business book that
I’ve been reading. “Did you just buy this?” I ask him as he
comes back into the room.
“Yeah, I picked it up on my way home yesterday. What
you said about it seemed interesting.”
I laugh, and suddenly I can’t stop laughing. “I’m sorry, I
just can’t believe you were actually listening.”
“Why?” he asks. “Because I happened to be inside you at
the time?”
“Yes, that would be why.”
He toasts me with his glass and pulls me close to whisper
in my ear. “It turns out that I’m a pretty good multi-tasker.”
“Oh?” His breath tickles my ear and I laugh, but I lean
into him. “You have any plans to multi-task tonight?”
“I might.”
"Are you going to tell me?"
"How I'm going to multi-task?"
"Yeah."
He smiles. "I thought I'd surprise you."
I make a face. "I told you before, I don't love surprises."
"Given our particular history," he says, "I get that. I was
going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me. Then
we can make out like the teenage sweethearts that we never
got to be." He leads me over to the couch, and I manage to
kick o my shoes before I sink onto the couch, careful not to
spill my wine.
"Does it need to be a scary movie so I can pretend to be
afraid just so that I can have you hold me?"
 He laughs, purposely putting his arm around me on the
couch. "It can be whatever kind of movie you like."
"Hmmm." I turn so I can see him a little better. "One
more question. Does the end of this end up with me in your
bed?"
"In many very compromising positions," he says.
"Then bring on the movie," I say, downing the rest of my
glass.
Adam turns on the TV, and I tuck my feet up onto the
couch, leaning into him. "Now I have two questions for you."
"I might have two answers." I'm feeling the wine from
dinner, and with this glass, I'm in perfectly, blissfully tipsy
territory. I can tell that I'm smiley, maybe too smiley, but I
don't care because I'm happy and I love that I'm here in
Adam's apartment and that somehow we're together after all
this time doing what we might have done in one or the other
of our parents’ basements.
"Do you want more wine?"
"Yes."
I feel the vibration of his laughter in his chest. "And do
you want to care about the movie?"
"What do you mean?"
He clears his throat. "I mean, do you want a movie that—
despite any making out that will happen—we'll want to
finish? Or do you want something we can heartlessly
abandon halfway through?"
I think about it for a second. "Let's watch the movie," I
say. "It's been a long time since I've actually watched a
movie with anyone outside a theater. It might be nice."
Adam stands, taking my wine glass. "It will be more than
nice," he calls behind him. "It will be excellent." He fills
both our glasses and comes back, shrugging o the jacket of
his suit before he sits down again. Flicking through movies
on the TV, he chooses one that I vaguely remember from the
theaters a few months ago, a flu y romantic comedy that
looked funny. “How about this?”
“You really want to watch it?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I guess I didn’t think this would
be your kind of movie.”
Adam slides his arm around my waist, settling his hand
on my hip. “I don’t really have just one kind of movie. I think
that any genre can be good if done well.”
I take a sip of my wine. “Have I mentioned that I like
you?”
“Not today.”
“I like you.”
He clicks the button on the remote to start the movie. “I
like you too.”
The story behind the film is pretty simple. There’s a girl
who’s head over heels in love with this guy and they’ve
known each other forever. Only the guy is dating her best
friend. And then, they get engaged and suddenly things get
twisty when she admits she’s still in love with him. It’s
around that time that I feel Adam stir, and then the soft
feeling of lips on my neck.
I’m relaxed and drowsy and tipsy and the sensation of his
lips on my skin makes my body wake up and purr. I tilt my
head away to give him better access, and he takes it. Teeth
graze my skin, and then his lips. I’m not sure we’re going to
make it to the end of the film.
Reaching over, I set my wine glass down next to his. But
when I go to move, to turn so that I can reach him and his
lips, the arm around my waist holds me still. “Watch the
movie,” he says softly.
“How am I supposed to watch when you’re doing that?”
His soft laugh makes good chills run across my skin.
“Multi-task?”
 “Is that what you’re doing?” I gasp as he gently bites my
shoulder.
He takes my free hand with his and weaves our fingers
together, keeping me from reaching for him. “I told you I
would.”
I try to focus on the plot of the film while Adam continues
his exploration of my neck and shoulder. “Am I showing up
to work tomorrow with a hickey?”
“How about you call out sick from work tomorrow and we
go straight out to the island?”
I let my head rest back against his shoulder. “As long as
you stop and let me grab some stu from home, I’m yours.”
He growls, and moves me so he can reach my neck again.
And when there’s no more skin that he can reach and hasn’t
already touched with his mouth, the hand he’s been keeping
on my waist creeps to my skirt. And then, slowly, underneath
it. “Adam,” I say.
“Watch the movie.”
I try. Turns out the guy had a crush on the main character
and now they’re seeing each other behind the back of her
best friend and he might break it o with his fiancée. I don’t
blame them if they’re in love but this is a much more serious
film than I would have thought. And I keep getting distracted
by Adam’s fingers, now on my thigh, barely moving but still
slowly getting closer.
The anticipation is driving me mad. My breath is shallow
and I’m tense, watching the movie and waiting, just waiting
for him to touch me. It takes forever. But when he does, fire
blooms in my stomach. He moves his fingers under the
fabric of my thong so that they’re resting on my clit and I
can’t breathe anymore.
And I still can’t breathe, because nothing happens. He
doesn’t do anything, except for the tiniest of movements to
let me know that he’s right there. That any moment, he
could start to move and give me pleasure and the thought
makes me wet. And then I feel the wetness build under his
fingers, and blush, the somehow embarrassing and arousing
thought that he can feel me getting wetter by the second is
only making it happen faster.
On the screen, the couple has just been caught together by
the best friend and everything is falling apart. Adam’s
fingers move, just a little, a small circle. I want more, and I
reach down to cover his hand with mine, to guide him, but
he’s faster. His free hand catches me by the wrist and pulls
my arm across my body. Now he has both my wrists in his
hand, and there’s nothing I can do but let him make those
small, infuriating movements on my clit.
I twist a little. “What are you doing?”
“Watch the movie,” he smirks.
“I can’t when you’re touching me like that,” I say,
tensing as he draws another tiny circle.
He makes a face that tells me he’s not sorry, that he’s
amused by my predicament. “You’ll survive.”
“Adam,” I beg. “Please.”
“Watch the movie, Olivia.” The way he says my name
makes me shiver. “Because when it’s over, I’m going to take
you to bed, and I don’t plan on getting very much sleep
tonight.”
He moves his hand again, harder this time, and I close my
eyes for a second. He’s teasing me. Getting me ready for us
to play together. I bite my lip and try to focus and ignore the
way he’s slowly stroking me now as the film comes to a
close. The wedding is o , and the best friends don’t really
make up, but they come to terms. But more importantly, the
main character and her man are together and happy and so
it’s still a happy ending, even if it’s a little sad.
But I honestly don’t care that much, not when Adam has
me hanging on by one twitch of his hand. After what seems
like forever, the credits finally roll, and Adam releases my
hands to turn o the TV.
“Are you ready?” he asks me.
“For what?” I want him to tell me what he has planned.
He smiles slowly, fingers dipping down to circle my pussy
and back up. “To see my bedroom.”
21
 ADAM

My cock is so hard that I might pass out because there’s not

enough blood flowing to my brain. But seeing Ollie worked
up like this, biting her lip, panting as I slowly touch her, is
well worth it. I guide her o the couch and down the hall to
my bedroom, which is my favorite room in my apartment,
and really the only one I had any say in decorating. I chose a
bed that’s so big it takes up easily a quarter of the space. And
I’m glad for it now.
The windows in here also look out over the Hudson, and
I’ve got lights that can be set to custom setting. I turn them
to a low setting, moody and dark so I can see Ollie but I’m
not ruining the mood with bright lights.
She’s standing in the middle of the room, looking around
at my bedroom, and I try to imagine how she’d see it. But
I’m not sure what she’s thinking. Finally, “That’s an
amazing bed.”
“I enjoy sleeping in a large one.”
“And other things?” She smirks.
I cross back to her. “And other things.”
Pulling her back against me, I kiss her neck again. I love
this part of her, just like I love every part of her. Her skin is
soft under my lips and tongue and I like feeling her react, the
way her body tenses and anticipates and yields.
I find her zipper, pull it down, and suddenly the purple
dress is a puddle around her feet and she’s dressed in
nothing but lingerie that’s scraps of lace. I didn’t think it
was possible for me to get any harder. I was wrong.
Ollie looks over her shoulder at me as she walks to my bed
and stretches out on it, lifting her ass in the air. Fuck. I can’t
get my clothes o fast enough. I want to touch her, and I
want to be naked when I do. But I don’t join her on the bed. I
run my hand down her back, cup her ass, and on instinct I
take a bite. She makes the most satisfying moan.
“There are so many things that I want to do with you,
Ollie.”
“Like what?” She’s purposely moving her ass under my
hand, and I feel like I’m hypnotized.
I draw my hand across her ass, and dare to touch her
there. She stills, and I press my finger against her, almost
hard enough to enter, but not quite. “Like this.”
Ollie turns around, coming to her knees on the bed so
we’re almost the same height. I hadn’t seen her from the
front in this underwear, and the deep purple lace is
surrounded by straps that look like some kind of sexy web.
The thong rides up on her hips and even though it hides
nothing, that little piece of fabric makes my cock twitch.
“I’ve always wanted to try that,” she says.
I’m so distracted by the way she looks in lace that I
almost don’t hear her. “What?”
She smiles slowly. “I said I’ve always wanted to try that.
That and lots of other things.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “And how would you feel about
trying that tonight?”
Ollie puts her hands around my neck and arches back, and
my eyes have no choice but to drop down the line of her
perfect, curvy, gorgeous body. “I’m not opposed. I think I’m
just drunk enough to try.”
I stifle a groan. This wasn’t what I had planned. It’s way
better. Dipping her back further, I cover one of her nipples
with my mouth, sucking it through the fabric. “You’re going
to need a warm-up orgasm,” I say, switching to her other
breast and listening to her breath speed up.
“That won’t take long.”
I let her drop back on the bed and for the second time
today I get the chance to bury my face in her pussy. I’ll never
understand men who wouldn’t do this. It’s pure erotic
energy. You can taste just how much a woman wants you,
feel her clench down on your tongue and your fingers and
nothing feels better than making her come with nothing but
your mouth.
Her thong is still there, and I don’t bother to remove it. I
lick her through the lace, using the friction of the fabric to
my advantage. “Oh god,” Ollie says. She’s already
squirming, and I bite down, softly teasing her with it.
I circle her clit with my tongue, over and over. Every time
we’re together, I learn something about her, and I’ve already
learned that I can lick her to climax if I just keep going,
keeping it steady. Ollie pushes the thong down her legs, and I
don’t stop, helping her pull it o while I seal my mouth over
her. I take a second to dip inside her pussy and taste the
sweetness there, but only a second. And then I’m back on her
clit and loving every second of it.
Ollie’s hands are in my hair, pulling me closer, and she’s
moaning, making the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard. I
can’t help the urge, I reach down and stroke my cock, the
pleasure the small taste I need to keep myself from coming.
Sealing my mouth over her clit, I suck hard, and Ollie
yells. I feel her shake, her pussy surging wetness as she
comes. Her body spasms, and I see her hands dig into the
sheets. She breathes in sharp gasps, and I can almost see the
waves of her orgasm moving through her body. She releases
my hair suddenly, and I pull back to see her smiling.
“Was the teasing worth it?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I go to one of my drawers where I keep my
condoms and lube and grab them. “Clearly I’ll have to do
better next time.”
Ollie stretches, rolling over onto her stomach, already
looking ravished and sated. “You’re going to do that again?
It almost killed me this time.”
“I’ll do it until you say that it was absolutely worth it.”
She laughs. “We’ll see. Maybe we can make a deal.”
“What sort of deal?” I ask, crawling onto the bed with
her, hauling her against me and kissing her. Fuck, my
stomach drops when our lips meet and it feels big. Being
with Ollie is better than I could have imagined.
“We’ll have to see if you try to tease me,” she says. “It’ll
be a surprise.”
“I thought you hated surprises.”
She laughs. “Only when I’m the one being surprised.”
I grab the condom o the bed. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes.” She takes the condom from me and I have to grit
my teeth as she rolls it down my cock. I’m so hard that a sti
breeze o the Hudson could make me blow.
She turns over again, and wiggles her ass at me, and I’m
just…
“Shit, Ollie.”
She giggles, and I grab the lube. I stroke some onto my
cock and some onto her ass, and fit myself against her.
Stretching out over her, I make sure she can feel me—my
chest pressed against her back, my legs on the outside of
hers, my cock poised to take her ass. I press, and slowly, I
feel her relax, give, and push back. I let up, and push in
again. This is going to happen in inches. Millimeters. And
I’m going to savor every second.
The tip of my cock slips inside her ass, and holy. Fucking.
God.
“Oh,” Ollie gasps, tensing beneath me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Her hands flex on the sheets, gripping and
releasing. “It’s strange.”
I’m having a hard time focusing on her words when her
ass is squeezing me like this. “Bad strange?”
“I don’t know yet.” She relaxes again, and she pushes up
into me slightly. “More.”
How can I say no to that? I press in further, and shit. My
hands are clenched into fists, my jaw tight. I’m sliding inside
something so tight, it feels amazing. And even though I
already knew, it suddenly hits me that I’m the first person to
do this. Ollie’s never let anyone do this with her. I’m a first.
She trusts me not to hurt her, not to do her harm.
Pressing in another half inch, I groan. “How do you feel?”
“Full,” she says, voice airy.
I kiss the skin below her ear. “I’m not even halfway inside
you.” She moans, and I feel that moan straight in my dick.
“Can I keep going?”
She doesn’t say anything, but nods. I push in further, and
further, slowly sinking into her, and it feels impossible that
she’s taking this much of me. It shouldn’t be possible. But
it’s happening. Fuck. One of Ollie’s hands slips down
between her legs and she gasps. She’s shaking beneath me,
but she doesn’t tell me to stop. I move my hips one more
time and her ass is touching my stomach.
“Adam,” she says, and I don’t know what she was going
to say.
“Just breathe,” I say. I’m not moving yet. Her body’s not
used to me, and every few seconds she squeezes my cock like
she can’t believe it’s there. Every squeeze makes me go blind
with pleasure.
She shudders, and suddenly she jerks, and I go still with
shock. “Did you just come?”
“Yes.” It’s a soft sigh filled with pleasure. “Everything
feels…more.”
Rocking my hips into her ass, “This feels good?”
“So fucking good.”
I move a little more, pulling back and pushing in. Her ass
grabs me, holds onto me like it doesn’t want to let me go.
Fuck. “Ollie,” I say, “I need—” My voice is cut o by
another squeeze. I’m not going to last much longer, and my
muscles are starting to shake from holding myself back,
holding myself still.
Ollie tips her hips up and back, pressing her ass into me,
and then she’s pulling away, pulling herself o of my cock.
And then she rolls to her back and spreads her legs, bold,
unafraid, eyes filled with lust. She grabs my cock and puts it
to her ass. “I want to see you. Take what you need.”
Fuck. I grab her hips, thrusting and making it past the
barrier with little trouble. Then in and in and in until she’s
full of me again and I look down to see my cock buried to the
hilt in her ass. I fall onto my arms, holding myself above her
so we’re face to face, and I kiss her. Hard.
She opens for me and I plunge my tongue inside as deep
as I can. Her tongue dances with mine, and while I make her
dizzy with this kiss, I start to fuck. Slowly at first, and then
faster. Short strokes that barely move, growing longer and
longer until I’m fucking her full force.
She squeezes down and I can’t hold on. I’ve been too hard
for too long and the orgasm explodes through me like
nothing I’ve ever felt before. “Fuck, Ollie!” My voice echoes
around the room, and crashing surges of sharp pleasure land
on me with every jerk of my cock. I can’t see anything, and
I’m only aware of Ollie’s ass still squeezing me and the fact
that my every nerve is fried with pleasure.
“Yes!” Her sudden shout brings my eyes open, and I see
Ollie’s head thrown back, lips parted in perfect pleasure. She
came again. I should have made sure that she did.
I kiss her again, softer this time. The aftermath of
pleasure is still zinging through my body in a way that
makes me wonder if I’ll ever feel the same again. Slowly, I
pull out of Ollie and clean myself up before coming back to
her. Sudden exhaustion is seeping in, and I’m already fading
when I sprawl next to her, my arm across her stomach.
“I know I said that I didn’t plan on much sleep…” I say.
Ollie curls towards me, smiling. “I think that was more
than either of us planned for.”
“Yes. And now I have you for three more days.”
She giggles. “Whatever will we do with ourselves?”
“O the top of my head,” I say, “more of that. More
movies. I may want to fuck you on the beach.”
“Anything else new you want to try?”
I pull her closer. “You’ve already been pretty adventurous
for a new relationship.”
“I want to try everything with you,” she says softly.
“Me too,” I say, tucking her close to my body. And then
there’s really nothing left to say, and we fall together into
sleep.
22
 OLLIE

The morning I wake up at Adam’s apartment is at once a

morning of lazy luxury and a whirlwind of activity. Adam
wakes me up with kisses and an amazing spread of breakfast
that he went out and got, and we almost get carried away
before he suggests that we get to the house on the island
before we fall into each other again. It’s not easy to stop.
I call into work and say that I won’t be there. There’s
nothing terribly urgent at the o ce that I need to take care
of this week anyway. And then Adam zips me back into the
purple dress and I make the walk of shame with him in a cab
to my apartment. It’s weird being out in this dress so early in
the morning, but I honestly don’t feel ashamed about it at
all. Though I’ll be happy to throw on some jeans.
Once we get to my apartment, I pack the fastest I’ve ever
packed in my life, grabbing cosmetics and a couple of
dresses and my bathing suits. I’m not going to kid myself
and pretend like I’ll be wearing clothes a lot. We both know
that’s not going to happen.
Adam calls another car, a di erent service, and we pile
into the back of a big black SUV and we’re driving. It’s a far
drive, and even though I try, I’m almost lulled into sleep
leaning on Adam. We were up late, and I’m still tired. I can’t
believe that I did that. I’m very glad that I did, but thank god
I was tipsy enough to let him go there. If I’d been sober, the
embarrassment of him even suggesting anal sex would have
made me say no.
I really didn’t anticipate how good it would feel. The
orgasms I had weren’t explosive. They were deep. They
slithered down into my bones and made me shake. It was a
completely di erent kind of pleasure, like Adam fucking my
ass turned on nerves that I never knew I had. I guess I
shouldn’t be surprised. If I can come from him touching my
nipples, my body is clearly wired di erently.
Suddenly I jerk awake. I hadn’t realized I was fully asleep
until the car stopped. “We’re here,” Adam says.
I look outside the car and—holy shit. “Adam, how rich is
your family?”
“Richer than we let on,” he says.
He helps me out of the car and grabs our bags before
paying the driver. In front of us is a house. He called it a
house. It’s not a house, it’s a fucking mansion is what it is.
And not only that, it’s on the beach. I can see the water
stretching to infinity behind the house and I’m pretty sure
that I still haven’t picked up my jaw from where it’s fallen to
the ground.
“Why isn’t your family here all the time?”
Adam laughs. “Neither of my parents actually likes the
beach that much. They mostly came out for the parties that
their friends were having, but all their friends prefer the city
now too. It’s empty most of the time.”
“Wow.”
There’s a keypad that looks like part of a security system
that’s no joke, and Adam enters the code to let us inside. It’s
like walking into a house that’s been a movie set. It’s
gorgeous and modern, but it also looks like it’s never been
used. Like it was set up just for us.
 The foyer reaches straight through the house to where
there are sets of French doors opening onto a gorgeous patio
and then the beach. Stairs wind up and out of sight, and I can
see glimpses of the kitchen through the living room to the
right. “This is amazing.”
“What do you want to do first?”
I open my mouth to say something and close it. More than
once. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“How about a swim?” Adam asks.
Glancing through the house toward the ocean, it does look
really inviting. “That sounds nice.”
We go upstairs, Adam carrying the bags, and we go into a
bedroom that’s bigger than my entire apartment, and I don’t
even think that’s an exaggeration. “This is the master,”
Adam says, giving me a look. “It has the biggest bed.”
“Obviously the most important part,” I say, grabbing my
suitcase and pulling out one of the bikinis I packed. It’s black
and purple and I’ve never worn it because it’s just a tad too
small. I’ve never been in a situation that I’ve been
comfortable enough to wear it in. But I think today is the
day. “Is the beach public?”
Adam shakes his head. “Occupants only. We might see
some neighbors, but I doubt it.” He puts on a pair of swim
trunks, and I’m distracted by the way the lines on his hips
slip down into his trunks and he catches me staring. “Of
course,” he says, “we don’t have to go for a swim.”
“Let’s go,” I say too quickly.
Adam grabs towels for us, and the minute I step out the
back door I realize just how much I’ve missed the beach. I
can’t remember the last time I’ve actually been. New York
will do that to you. You always talk about the things that you
want to do, but you get so busy that you never actually do
them. The air is breezy and has that salt smell that I would
love to bottle and inhale every day. Every second. I close my
eyes to breathe it in, and when I open them I find Adam
staring at me. “What?”
“You look di erent,” he says softly.
“I love the beach,” I say. “It’s the closest I have to a
happy place.”
“Why?”
I think, but nothing comes to mind. “I don’t know, really.
I just…we—my family—we’d always go on vacation to the
beach. And it was just happy. Whenever I think about the
beach I feel happy. It stuck.”
“I’m glad.” Adam drops the towels on the sand. “Does
that happiness include what’s about to happen?”
“What’s about to happen.”
“I’m going to dunk you in the ocean.” He scoops me o
my feet and over his shoulder.
I scream, startled and happy, “Adam!” He jogs with me
towards the water, and then he’s in it and my feet get
splashed. “It’s cold!”
“Yes, it is.” And then he’s up to his waist and we go down
together. I’m plunged into freezing cold and it hurts and it
feels amazing and I don’t remember when I’ve felt this alive.
I come up gasping for air and soaking, Adam right next to
me. The sun is reflecting o his now wet body and oh my god
he’s breathtaking. Just looking at him gives me a twinge in
my chest, and I didn’t realize it before, but holy shit I am in
trouble.
I knew I liked him. I knew I was having fun. I didn’t know
that it might be more. That I might be falling head over heels
for him in a way that could be amazing or disastrous. But
that moment is gone, because Adam has a wolfish grin on his
face, and he tackles me into the water. I manage to shriek
only a second before we go under again.
Time seems to pass in a blur, and it’s a passing thought
that we’re once again a cliché—playing in the waves on the
beach. But it’s nice, and after an hour I’m exhausted. I
stumble up the sand and spread my towel before collapsing
onto it. “You’ve worn me out,” I say to Adam as he sits next
to me.
“I hope not,” he says. “I have plans for later.”
“Yeah? What plans?”
He stretches out, arms behind his head. “We could have a
fire on the beach, watch another movie, go out to dinner. Oh,
and all the sex.”
I laugh. “You’re insatiable.”
“For you I am.”
We sit for a while, catching our breath and resting. I keep
turning over so that I don’t burn. You would have thought
that knowing we were coming to the beach that I would
remember sunscreen, but I didn’t.
When we go inside, I’m starving. We haven’t eaten since
breakfast, and it’s well into the afternoon now. Adam calls
out for some delivery while I take a quick shower and change
into the comfy clothes I brought: sweats and an oversized
sweater that has a bad habit of slipping o my shoulders. I’d
never admit to Adam that that’s why I brought it, to tease
him, but that’s why.
And then we curl up together on the couch, and soon my
head is in his lap, and I’m dozing o while we watch a
movie. An action film this time that’s fast and colorful and it
doesn’t really matter what the plot is as long as there are lots
of explosions.
I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed.
Everything is perfect, and even though I feel like I’ve been
falling asleep all day, I’m so close to slipping under. Adam is
stroking my hair, his other hand settled on my hip, and I
think as I’m fading, that this is perfect happiness.
When I wake up the sun is setting and Adam isn’t on the
couch with me. I sit up and I see him in the kitchen, the
beeps of the microwave faint. “Hi,” I say.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he says. “There’s pizza.”
My stomach growls at the mention of food. I was already
hungry earlier and I fell asleep before it even got here. “Yes,
please.”
He sets a plate of food in front of me as I make my way to
the breakfast bar. My sweater slips o my shoulder and I
don’t fix it. I notice the way Adam glances at my suddenly
bare skin and stifle a grin. I guess I was right on when
bringing this sweater. “Did you finish the movie?” I’m
wolfing down the pizza in a way that’s probably really
unsexy, but I don’t care because it’s really good. And I
immediately feel more awake, like I’ve given myself a shot of
ca eine.
“I did. The good guys won.”
I lift my fist in the air. “Go good guys.”
He laughs. “I thought that maybe we’d do the fire
tomorrow?”
“Fine with me. What now then?”
“Well…” There’s a wild and feral gleam in his eyes that I
recognize. He comes around the counter and spins my stool
so that he’s standing between my legs. “I had another idea,
if you’re open to a little adventurous experimentation.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Do you remember our little video chat?”
Of course I do, and I immediately blush because somehow
it’s still embarrassing. “Yes.”
Adam runs his hands down my sides, and they cup my
ass, pulling me closer on the stool. “I told you that I loved
your tits, and that I wanted to fuck them till we both came.”
My stomach drops with desire, my pussy going instantly
slick. I turn away from him, grabbing the rest of my pizza
and finishing in several huge bites. “Yes,” I say. “Yes.”
I don’t wait for him, hopping o the stool and going
upstairs. I know he’s going to follow me. I walk into our
bedroom, stripping as I go. I stretch out on the bed and savor
the look on Adam’s face when he walks in and sees me posed
and waiting.
Watching Adam pull his shirt over his head is like
watching a work of art. I could play it on repeat forever. And
that’s just the prelude to what comes next. Watching him
step out of his shorts is an entirely di erent kind of art and
it makes my mouth water. He only pauses on the way to the
bed to grab a bottle of lotion from his bag. “You came
prepared.”
“Yes, I did.” He takes my mouth in a kiss before settling
his knees on either side of my waist. His cock is so close, and
the way he’s towering over me is overwhelming. But he
doesn’t do what I expect. He doesn’t jump in. Instead, he
takes the bottle of lotion and squeezes some into his hands.
And then he touches me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to
the way that it a ects me, like it sinks through my skin and
drops down to my core and brings my arousal to the surface.
Adam slowly massages my breasts, moving them together
and apart and together again, thumbs slowly rubbing across
my nipples. I groan, because this feels so good. At once
relaxing and hot and I swear to god it’s like he’s touching my
pussy. My nipples harden under his fingers and I squirm, the
urge to touch myself strong, to get there faster and we’ve
only just started.
He’s making eye contact with me, and I can’t look away.
It’s not awkward the way I thought it might be. It’s so damn
sexy that I can’t breathe. Adam pushes my breasts together
again and thrusts his cock into the space between them. Oh
my god. The slickness of the lotion on my skin and the
hardness of his cock send fireworks shooting through my
chest and down to my clit.
He presses them harder together, fingers slipping on my
skin as he thrusts again, and again. No other man I’ve been
with would believe me when I told them that this feels like
getting fucked, but it does. My pussy is so wet it’s dripping
and if I touched my clit right now, I’m sure I’d come.
Adam’s eyes close and I reach up and put my hands on
his, pressing harder. He lets me, falling onto his hands, and
thrusting harder, faster. It takes my breath away and the
pleasure building behind my clit is spreading. Like I’m
slowly wading into an ocean of it. I want more, more, more.
I push so hard it almost hurts, until I can feel every ridge
and vein as he slips between my skin. Adam is grunting with
the e ort of every thrust, and I see his face. It’s caught in a
storm of pleasure, fierce and taut, and oh—
The wave breaks before I expect and now I’m caught in
my own storm of pleasure. It writhes through me, and I’m
quaking, coming, every breath deeper.
Adam breathes out sharply, thrusting once more, and I
feel the heat of his cum on my skin, wave after wave of it.
And I’m still feeling the aftershocks of my own. We’re both
frozen and breathing together, and I’m so glad that I can
come like this. That I feel safe enough with Adam to try stu
like this.
When he finally slides o me, Adam goes to grab a towel.
I think he’s about to help me clean up, but then he stops.
“We could shower instead.”
“Together?”
“Of course.”
I’m o the bed before he finishes the words and he has to
race to catch up with me.
23
 OLLIE

I wake up to a slamming sound.

“Adam!”
It’s a distinctly male voice, and one that I don’t
remember. Somebody is in the house. I’m hazy as I come to
consciousness, covered in nothing but a sheet. I’m definitely
naked. I flip over to find Adam just as blearily coming awake.
The bedroom is a mess, blankets and pillows everywhere. He
and I could have written a sex manual with everything that
we did last night, and my body is sore and sated enough to
prove it.
“Adam,” the voice calls again, booming and angry. “I
know you’re here. Get your ass down here, now.”
I watch his face go pale as he rolls out of bed and grabs
his pants o the floor. He goes straight out of the room, and
immediately I hear yelling. “What the hell are you doing?”
The voice says. I’m assuming that it’s Adam’s dad. Though
why he’s here and why he’s yelling are the things I’m
unclear on.
I grab my comfy clothes from where I left them on the
floor and put them on. Creeping to the door, I listen. I would
try not to, but Adam’s father isn’t exactly keeping his voice
down.
 “I get a call from Dr. Pratt saying you took days o , and
then I get a call from Sasha telling me that she hasn’t heard
from you in days. Is this how you treat the mother of your
child? You should be talking with her every single day and
making sure she’s okay. A healthy relationship means a
healthy baby.”
I feel like a bucket of ice has been dumped on me. Dr.
Pratt. Sasha. Sasha Pratt. Sasha from high school and prom.
Adam has a baby with her?
Adam is speaking now, fast and low, and I can’t hear what
he’s saying. Screw staying out of sight now, I walk out onto
the landing, and immediately his father’s eyes are on me.
Adam whips around, seeing me at the stop of the stairs. “Is
that true?” I ask. “You got Sasha pregnant.”
“You’re sneaking o to be with her?” his father hisses.
“Adam, this is unacceptable on every level. End this now.
Come home and take care of Sasha. It’s the very least you can
do not to be a total disgrace.” The look that he gives me
makes me feel like I’m about an inch tall, and the hatred
pulsing o him is palpable. He turns and stalks to the door,
turning around at the last second. “I came all the way out
here because I hoped that I was wrong. I hoped that you
weren’t a complete disappointment. I was wrong.”
He leaves, slamming the door behind him and taking all
the oxygen with him.
Adam turns to me, and takes a deep breath. I cut him o .
“What the fuck is he talking about, Adam? This entire time
you’ve been with Sasha and you have a baby? Never mind the
fact that it’s Sasha, you didn’t think you should tell me that
you’re with someone else?” The words feel like they’re
cutting me as I speak them. Bullets and glass shards
shredding the happiness I had not even twelve hours ago.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, coming up the stairs.
“Oh really.”
 “It’s not,” he says carefully. “Please let me explain.”
I backtrack into the bedroom and grab my bag. “You have
five minutes.”
He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “Dr. Pratt is my
boss. My dad thought it would be a good idea for me to date
Sasha so that he would like me. This was years ago now, and
I went along with it because I thought it would help my
career. I’ve never slept with Sasha and made it clear that I
never will. She’s convinced that we’ll be together eventually
even though I’ve told her no a thousand times. Please, don’t
go.”
I keep gathering my things, though there aren’t many
things to gather. “If you didn’t want to be with her then why
not just break it o ?”
“Because I’m an idiot,” he says. “That’s the real answer.
But I was too busy with residency and I liked the attention
that Dr. Pratt gave me. Since I wasn’t focused on having a
girlfriend, I didn’t care that I had a fake one that much.
Sasha liked to tell people that she was dating a doctor. Until
about a week ago, I thought that it wasn’t hurting anybody.
“But then the reunion happened. That brunch I had to go
to, Sasha and her father were there. She cornered me alone,
and she’d seen us together. I told her I wanted to break it o ,
and she freaked out.” Adam’s voice is uneven now, and he’s
starting to pace. “She told me no, and I didn’t care. I went
back to our table fully prepared to break the news, and Sasha
came with me. She told our fathers that she was pregnant,
and then she told me that she would provide proof that I had
cheated on every residency exam. That she would ruin my
career if I didn’t go along with it. I didn’t know what to do. I
still don’t.”
I feel like I’m being slowly ripped to shreds. “Why didn’t
you tell me?”
 “How? How could I tell you that I’d been ‘with’ the girl
that had tried to ruin your life? Who hated you? I honestly
didn’t know I would ever see you again, Ollie. If I’d known, I
never would have done this. It’s the worst decision I’ve ever
made.”
I clear my throat. “Why didn’t you tell me? If the baby is
fake, why were you so worried? You thought I wouldn’t
believe you?”
He sinks down onto the edge of the bed, saying nothing.
“Adam?”
“I don’t know.”
I grab my bag, “You lied to me. Not only did you lie to my
face the entire time, you lied to me about her.”
“I was going to tell you, Ollie. I was, I just didn’t know
how. I was trying to figure a way out, to try to figure out how
to counter blackmail. Sasha knows everybody, and she
doesn’t blu . I didn’t want to lose my career or you.” He
stands, coming to me, but he makes the wise decision not to
try to touch me. “I had just found you, and I didn’t want to
break your heart. Not when it seemed like we had a chance to
heal it together.”
Tears spring into my eyes and I have to turn away. I start
heading toward the door and I hear his footsteps follow me.
“It’s a little late for that, Adam.”
“Please don’t go, Ollie.” He says. “I promise there’s
nothing between Sasha and me. We’ve never even kissed.
There’s nothing.”
I don’t answer. I can’t stay here. This whole thing was a
lie or a sham or a ruse and I don’t know which, and I like
him too much to let him try to comfort me. Because if he
tries to comfort me, there’s a chance that I’ll forgive him.
And I can’t. There’s too much history for that right now. I
can’t be here.
 I slam the door behind me and call a cab, waiting at the
end of the driveway until it comes. Adam watches me from
the doorway until I disappear.

Lorraine shows up with ice cream and co ee and tissues. I

don’t have to let her in, she still has her key. I didn’t call her
yesterday. I didn’t do anything yesterday except come home
and cry. Of all the people, why Sasha? It might be irrational,
though I’m not sure, but it seems like I’m relieving high
school all over again. Everyone is staring and laughing at me.
Somehow, ten years later, this is happening again. I’ve been
had. Fooled.
I’m on the floor in front of the couch wrapped in a
blanket when Lorraine comes in. “What the fuck?” she asks
me. I didn’t tell her much—just the gist. That Adam’s been
lying and we may have broken up. Even though we hadn’t
had the conversation about whether or not we were o cially
together. But we were. I know we were.
She hands me the co ee and disappears to put the ice
cream in the freezer before kicking o her shoes and
plopping down next to me. “Spill.”
And that’s all it takes to get me crying again. Somehow I
manage to get it all out. The co ee does make me feel better,
and I manage to stem the tears by the time I fill her in on
everything that he said. “Do I believe him?”
I’m actually asking.
Lor takes a sip of her co ee, and I recognize the deep in
thought look on her face. “First, he’s an asshole for lying to
you.”
“Yes.”
“Second, he’s a particular kind of asshole for lying about
Sasha Pratt.”
 “Yes.”
She clears her throat. “But, you never knew the Carlisles
in high school. I did. There were get-togethers with the
sports teams and the cheerleaders at their house sometimes.
And I know that Mr. Carlisle is a fucking piece of work. He’s
a heartless workaholic who would do absolutely anything to
advance his career. Or his son’s. So the idea that he would
tell Adam to date her for that reason makes absolute sense.”
“Yeah,” I say, “I got a sense of his piece of work when he
showed up.”
“And didn’t you say that Adam told you the whole reason
Sasha pulled that stunt at prom was because he turned her
down?”
I nod.
“I know that it happens and people change their minds,”
she says, “but I think I believe him when he says that they’re
not really together.”
“Why?”
“Because, like I said at the reunion, people like Sasha
don’t change. And if she’s creating a fake baby, it’s clear that
her particular brand of crazy hasn’t exactly disappeared in
the last ten years.”
“Yeah.” I let my head fall back against the couch. “I don’t
know what to do. Why does it feel like this?”
“Like what?”
I hu a laugh. “Like my chest is cracking open and
everything is leaking out onto the floor.”
“Oh, that.” She toasts me with her co ee. “That’s
because you’re in love with him.”
“What?” I’m frozen.
“Seriously?” Lor asks. “You can’t be surprised by this.”
I shake my head. “I’m not in love with Adam.”
“If you weren’t,” she says, “then this would hurt less.
You would get over the pain and move on if it were just a
fling. But you’re not going to be over this tomorrow.”
That feeling when we were playing in the water. That’s
what it was. I thought I might be falling, but I missed the
fact that I was already there. “What do I do, Lor?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not your real answer.”
She sighs. “It sucks, what he did, and he was a real dick
not to tell you, but I also can see why. Like, if I’d gone into a
career that took seven years of school, I’d want to protect it.
And Sasha…is a force of nature. She’s crazy, she’s rich, and
apparently she’s got it in her head that Adam is hers. I think
he’s right to be afraid of her.”
I nod, taking another sip of co ee and throwing the
blanket o my legs. “That still doesn’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do.”
“Why not?” I whine.
She rolls her eyes. “Because I’m not your mother. But I do
have an idea, and you can decide.”
“Hit me.”
“He invited you to that party tomorrow, right?”
I wave a hand. “Yeah, it’s at his parents’ house.”
“So go.”
“Are you serious? That’s insane.”
“It’s not.” She’s got her game face on. “You know he’s
going to be there. If you decide that you can forgive him, you
can talk to him and show him that you can handle being with
the type of crowd that his family hangs out with. If you want
revenge, you can tell everyone at the party what he did.”
That thought makes me sick to my stomach. “That would
be like pulling a prom night on him. I don’t think I could do
that.”
“Well, then maybe you going can give him the
opportunity to get out from under Sasha, even if you guys
don’t end up together.”
 “I don’t know.”
Lor grins. “I’ll crash with you. I’ve still got some great
dresses for us. Backups from the reunion.”
I look at her. “You’re not going to stop until I say I’m
going to go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.”
She’s right. This is a good solution for now. All I have to
do is figure out what I want to do before tomorrow night.
24
 OLLIE

“This is a stupid idea.”

Lor laughs. “This is a brilliant idea and we look fabulous.”
No matter if Lor has worked her magic—and she has by
putting me in an emerald green dress that women would kill
for—it’s still a stupid idea. I’m more nervous about this than
I was about walking into the reunion. I suppose that’s
because there was a chance of being tortured at the reunion,
and when I walk into this party, there’s an almost absolute
chance of some kind of scene.
Adam had already given me the address to his parents’
sprawling brownstone on the Upper East Side, and now I’m
standing outside hyperventilating. Lorraine grabs my arm.
“We can’t just stand outside in these clothes. We need to go
in. It will be fine. Breathe.”
We go up the steps together and the door opens. The
butler doesn’t ask to see an invitation, this isn’t that kind of
party. Thanks to Lor’s brilliant work, our clothes are all the
invitation we need. “I’ll be at the bar, waiting. If you need a
drink, come find me.”
“I will definitely need a drink,” I mutter under my breath,
but she’s already gone.
 My plan is to find Adam first. I want to hear it from him
again that it’s not true, that Sasha isn’t pregnant and that
they’re not together. I want him to look me in the eyes and
tell me the truth, again. Then we can talk about dealing with
Sasha. I move as quickly as I can through the rooms—I need
to find him quickly before someone realizes that I’m really
not supposed to be here.
I make it once around the party and am starting my
second circuit when I hear a voice to my right. Loud, brassy,
and completely recognizable. “What the hell are you doing
here?”
Sasha.
I turn, and give her the least antagonizing smile I can. “I
need to speak to Adam. Have you seen him?”
“Of course I have,” she says loudly, drawing the eyes of
those around us. “He’s my boyfriend. And the father of my
child. I’m not going to tell you where he is, you stalker.”
I jerk back. “What?”
“You’ve been stalking him for ten years. You wanted him
in high school, and ever since that reunion you’ve been
following him everywhere. To his job, even to his family’s
house on the island. It’s sad, Olivia. You need to stop. You’re
dangerous, and you disgust me.”
I close my eyes, fighting flashbacks of Sasha playing the
victim at prom and everyone chanting cheater. I keep my
voice calm and level—there’s no way getting upset is going
to help me in this situation. “Sasha, I’m not stalking Adam,
he invited me. I just need to speak with him for five minutes,
and I’ll be on my way.”
People are staring now, some starting to move in, drawn
to the conflict like a flame. I flex my hands, trying to calm
my nerves. Where is Adam?
Sasha looks around and sees the people that are watching
us. Suddenly, she flinches away from me, taking several
large steps back, cradling her stomach protectively. “You
stay away from me, Olivia! Please, don’t hurt me or my baby.
You need help, and we’ll get you some. We know you used to
hurt yourself and that you’re upset but please don’t hurt
me!”
My jaw drops. “What on earth are you talking about? Why
would I ever want to hurt you?”
Suddenly Adam and his father appear in the doorway.
Adam’s face is a journey of emotion: shock and hope and
pain and what I hope is relief. His father is the opposite, a
face of mask of fury. He storms across the floor and pulls
Sasha further away from me. “For the sake of the baby,
Sasha, stay away from that woman.”
I still don’t understand what’s happening, “What? I
don’t—”
He cuts me o . “I won’t have my grandchild around
someone with a history of violence and attempted suicide.”
Blood rushes to my face, and Adam is suddenly by my
side. I don’t understand. I’ve never hurt anyone. Never tried
to kill myself. I’ve never even thought about killing myself.
And if I had, I don’t think treating me like this would be the
answer.
His father continues. “Don’t deny it. It’s well known that
you went o the deep end ten years ago. Became so
depressed you attacked your friends and then slit your
wrists.”
My wrists. At the reunion. I look at Adam. “Is that why
you were looking at my wrists? You thought I tried to kill
myself?”
“I’d heard the rumor,” he says softly.
I fight the tears making their way to my eyes. “So you
were checking to see if I’d gone crazy?”
“Never,” he says. The truth in that word runs bone deep.
“I wasn’t trying to judge you, or avoid you. I wanted to make
sure you were okay.”
I look across the room, and no one is looking at Sasha. But
she’s looking at me, and there’s a tiny, vindictive smile on
her face. It clicks. She’s the one that started the rumor. She
knew that Adam hadn’t been turned against me by her stunt
at prom and she needed a way to make sure he didn’t come
after me. It’s truly ironic that she’s calling me a stalker—
she’s been after Adam for ten years.
“Adam,” his father says, voice thundering. “We’ve
spoken about this. You need to take care of Sasha and the
baby. Not spend your time catering to a suicidal whore,” he
spits.
I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the gut, and Adam steps in
front of me. “There is NO BABY!” His voice echoes through
the house and the entire party goes so silent you can hear the
tra c outside. “There never was.” He points at Sasha. “She
made it up. In fact, the whole thing was made up. You’re the
one who pushed us together in the first place to make a good
impression on Dr. Pratt, and somewhere along the way you
forgot that it wasn’t real.”
His father starts to bluster, but Adam doesn’t let him
speak. “Make her take a pregnancy test right now. We’ve
never slept together. She is not pregnant. We are not a
couple. She made up the baby as a way to blackmail me into
staying in this fake relationship, and I’m done.” He looks at
Sasha. “We’re done. Try to ruin me or not, I don’t care, I
can’t do this. And yes, it’s my fault that we lied for so long. I
got too deep, and I was stupid for not coming clean sooner.
But I need to be honest now.”
He turns to me and takes my hands. “I love you.” There’s
a soft gasp from the room. “I want to be with you, and I’m
sorry that I lied to you. I’ll never do it again.” He kisses me
softly, and I let him. How can I not? His next words are soft
enough that only I can hear. “I don’t care if I lose my career,
I’ll find another one. I choose you.”
I kiss him this time, and I can almost forget that we’re in
the middle of the party except, “Are you kidding me?!”
Sasha is shrieking at the top of her lungs. She looks at Mr.
Carlisle, “You’re just going to let him abandon me and
our—”
“Sasha.” A deep voice cuts across the room, and a man
with silver hair and an impeccable suit steps into view.
“That’s enough.”
Adam wraps his arms around me, keeping me pressed
against his body, but he doesn’t feel tense.
“Daddy—”
“No,” he says, and I realize that this must be Dr. Pratt.
He approaches Adam and me, and I blush under his gaze.
He looks at the two of us long and hard, and then he speaks.
But not to the room, just to us. “I wish I had known. Adam,
I’m sorry that you felt the need to keep this from me, or that
you ever felt you needed to boost your approval by dating my
daughter. You’re a fine doctor, and I don’t need you to date
Sasha in order to tell you that.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Olivia,” he says. “I hope to see you
at the hospital soon.”
Adam pulls me tighter. “You will,” he answers for me.
Dr. Pratt turns back to the room. “Sasha, you and I are
going home. It seems we have a lot to talk about.”
She sulks and glares at Adam and me, but amazingly, she
goes. The room erupts into whispers as soon as they leave,
and I duck my head into Adam’s chest. There’s nothing I
want to do right now but hide. Even though the fight is over,
everyone is still watching.
Lor appears with a drink in her hand. “That was epic,” she
gushes, “but maybe we should let people get back to the
party.”
“More like gossip,” Adam mutters. “But yes, let’s go.”
His father is still glaring at us as we leave.
As soon as we’re out of the house, Lorraine hails a cab.
“Have fun, you two!”
“Do you want to go with her?” Adam asks softly.
I shake my head. “No.” I don’t want to let go of his hand.
“In that case, my place or yours?”
“Yours is closer.”
He nods in agreement and hails a cab. We don’t speak on
the cab ride, though are hands are locked together. It
somehow feels wrong to talk about what we need to talk
about in a cab. So we wait until we get to his apartment. He
goes around turning on lights, and I go to the windows and
watch the streetlights from New Jersey sparkle on the river.
“Ollie,” Adam says, appearing behind me. He wraps his
arms around my waist, and I lean back into him. “I’m
sorry.”
“I know,” I say. My mind has been racing since we left
the party, and I’m still not all the way there. “I came to the
party to talk to you, not to fight with her. I want you to know
that.”
“I know. And I’m sorry that it happened. I’m sorry for so
much.”
I turn around in the circle of his arms, and drape mine
around his neck. “I accept your apology. I’m still hurt by the
fact that you lied, but I can understand why you did. That
isn’t going to stop me from kicking your ass if you ever lie to
me again.”
“I fully expect you to.”
I clear my throat and look away. “But can I ask you
something?”
“Anything.”
“You said that you—”
 “I love you,” he finishes. “Yes, I love you.”
Warmth spreads through my body, a perfect glow
surrounding me. “You love me.”
“I do.”
I lean my head on his chest. “I love you too.”
He tugs on my hair, guiding my face up until he can reach
my lips and he kisses me, hard and desperate and so sweet it
takes my breath away. “Let me take you to bed, Olivia
Mitchell, and show you in many ways how thoroughly I love
you.”
I laugh, the sound freeing, and Adam sweeps me o my
feet and into his arms and into his bedroom. Maybe our
bedroom at some point in the future. I can’t wait to find out.
 EPILOGUE
ADAM

One Year Later

I carry both of the drinks down onto the sand, and hand the
one with zero alcohol in it to my very pregnant wife. My wife.
It still hasn’t been quite long enough for me not to be
enamored of the title. She’s currently cradled in a beach
chair with a book propped on her belly and a floppy sun hat
covering most of her face. She looks up as I approach. “Hey,
handsome.”
“Hello there, beautiful.”
She snorts. “I’m a whale.”
I hand her the iced tea that she asked for and take a sip of
my beer. We decided to take a baby moon before the little
one arrives. Still a couple months to go, so we came to the
beach. A small house with a very private beach.
It’s the perfect time for it. My residency just finished and
I have a few months before I start my work as a pediatrician.
I’m staying at Columbia under Dr. Pratt, who never once
doubted me or my integrity even after everything that
happened with Sasha. I think he’s almost more excited about
the baby than I am, and that’s saying a lot because I’m so
excited to be a father that I haven’t been able to keep a smile
o my face in months.
“You are not a whale,” I say. “And if you are, you’re the
hottest whale I’ve ever seen.”
Ollie rolls her eyes but I’m not kidding. I love everything
about the way she looks, from the way her breasts have
gotten bigger to the curves of her belly. My wife is fucking
sexy, and it’s a struggle not to get hard whenever I’m within
a ten-foot radius.
“I’ve got another one,” I say, and I can almost hear Olivia
roll her eyes. She pretends she’s not amused by my bad baby
name suggestions, but she is.
“Hit me.”
“Chrysanthemum.”
Ollie bursts out laughing. “We are not naming our
daughter Chrysanthemum.”
“We could.”
“We’re not.” But she’s laughing. “If we’re going with
flowers I still like Lily or Rose.”
“What about Aqua?”
“Adam,” she warns.
“Turquoise. Lavender.”
She takes a sip of the iced tea I brought her. “You’re
ridiculous.”
“And you love me.”
“I do,” she says, shifting in her seat in an attempt to get
more comfortable.
“How’s the book?”
She sighs. “It’s okay.”
“You a little bored?”
“Yeah.”
I reach out and grab her hands, help her to her feet.
“Come on.”
She smiles. “Where are we going?”
 “In the water,” I say.
Ollie loves the water, and every time she steps into the
ocean she lights up like a Christmas tree. Plus, I know that
floating makes her feel better for a bit, carrying the baby. But
to my surprise, she shakes her head with a coy smile. “Not
right now.”
“Oh?”
“I think I’d like a nap.”
I struggle to keep the smirk o my face as I help her
gather her things o the sand. “A nap, you say?” I carry
everything for her as I follow her into the house. She’s
carrying more than enough—she’s carrying our baby girl.
Holding the door open for her, I make sure she gets up the
stairs and into the house without trouble.
She sighs and steps in the kitchen. “A nap.” She grabs an
apple and takes a bite.
“You know that a nap takes place in a bed?”
She snorts. “Yeah, usually.”
Reaching out, I grab her ass and pull her close. “There are
other things that we can do in a bed.”
Ollie sighs, and sets down her book on the counter. I know
that the sigh doesn’t have to do with me suggesting sex. It’s
that she doesn’t feel sexy, and isn’t convinced that I still
want her that way. I’ve been doing my best to prove her
wrong. I walk with her to the bedroom, never not touching
her. I catch her before she lies down, holding her to me and
cradling her belly with my hands. “Ollie, let me love you.”
“Only if you really want to.”
“Can you feel how much I want to?” I’m hard as a rock,
and I push my hips forward to make sure she feels it.
I peek around to see what she’s thinking, and she’s
blushing. I help her onto the bed, and before she can make
another excuse, I put myself over her. “Olivia, look at me.”
 She does, even though I can tell she’s embarrassed. She
embarrasses easily, and sometimes it’s cute. Sometimes it
turns her on. And sometimes it traps her in her own head
until she can’t think. This is one of those times. “You’re the
sexiest woman I know.”
I untie the straps of her bikini and reveal her breasts. I
kiss one and then the other, but I don’t play with them. Not
now. That’s not what she needs. Instead I lay behind her,
removing her bikini bottom. “You’re sexy all the time,” I
whisper in her ear, “Especially when you’re carrying my
baby.”
I kick my shorts o and fit my body against hers so that
we’re touching everywhere. I lift one of her legs over mine
and thrust into her in one go, making her gasp. She’s wet,
and I grin against her neck. “I knew you were in the mood.”
“I’m always in the mood for you,” she breathes.
Her pussy is hot and slick and god she feels good. She
always feels good, and I can never get enough. I’d spend
every second of my life in bed with this woman if I could. It
feels even better since we haven’t had sex in a while. “Ollie,
wife, feel free to take advantage of me at any time.”
I can see her blush, but I thrust deeper and her head falls
back in a silent cry. Good. Reaching around, I tease her clit,
running my fingers across the slickness of her skin and
teasing the circles I know that drive her crazy. “Or,” I say,
“if that makes you feel weird, I’ll make you a deal.”
“What deal?” Her voice is mostly moan, and I realize just
how much she wanted this. She’s close already.
“Three orgasms a day until the baby comes,” I say,
“though I reserve the right to give you more. That way you
don’t have to ask, and I get the distinct pleasure of seeing
you come often.”
I drive into her harder, and she moans, her pussy
crushing down on my cock like a vice. She comes, panting
little breaths, and reaching back to grab at me, pull me
closer. I let her, but I don’t stop fucking her. “That was one.”
I let my hand slide across her clit again, stroking up and
down and around, up and down and around, she sinks into
me, her orgasm passing and I graze my teeth on her
shoulder. She tenses suddenly, “Oh god, fuck, Adam,” She
comes again, and this time I feel the gush of wetness from
her, and she moans as I speed up my fingers and their
pattern. “That was two,” I say, gripping her hips and letting
myself go. The more we’ve played, the more I’ve discovered
that Ollie likes to be fucked hard. She’s never asked me to
pull back or slow down. I drive myself into her, deep as I can,
the sound of me slamming into her loud and mixing with the
way she’s saying my name.
God I’m close. I close my eyes and listen to her, the way
her voice makes my name sound like the most erotic word on
earth sends me over, and I yell out my orgasm. I spill myself
deep inside her pussy, warmth surrounding my cock as I feel
the waves crash through me. Ollie is still shaking, she never
really stopped coming after the second orgasm, and now
we’re lying, panting together.
“That was only two,” she says, turning over slowly to
look at me.
I pull her close and kiss her. “I never said I would give you
them all at the same time. Gives us both something to look
forward to.”
She giggles, face still flushed with pleasure, and I swear
to god that I’m the luckiest man alive. “I think I’m going to
like this deal.”
“Me too.” I kiss her again, soft and slow, and I love the
way her body relaxes, all the tension leaving as I press her
back into the pillows. “Have a good nap, wife. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Want a steamy high school enemies to lovers romance?
Check out MY SWEET BULLY!

Prairie is supposed to be Max’s enemy. He wants to hate her.

But he can’t fight his attraction to her. No matter how much
he wants to stay away—he wants Prairie more.

Read the blurb below!

Want to be the first to learn when a new title is

released? Follow me on Amazon!

My Sweet Bully Blurb

Bully. That's what I am to her.

It's not a name I ever expected to be called, but after what
she did to me that one awful summer, I'll wear it with pride.
It's the least I can do after she put my older brother behind
bars.
Prairie Westmin-- her face is burned into my mind. And now
I have to stare at it every day of our senior year. I want to
make her miserable. I know she's my enemy.
So why am I defending her from others on campus?
I tell myself it's because she's MINE. I'm the only one who
can bully her. Just me.
That logic is warping the longer I'm around her.
Fury becomes curiosity.
 Anger becomes passion.
Cruelty becomes love.
One kiss and I forget that I'm supposed to hate her to my
very core.
This woman is beating up my heart and ruling my world.
Am I her bully... or is she mine?

One click MY SWEET BULLY now!

 BOOKS BY PENNY WYLDER

Filthy Boss

Her Dad’s Friend

The Virgin Intern

Her Dirty Professor

The Pool Boy

Get Me O

Caught Together

Selling Out to the Billionaire

Falling for the Babysitter

Lip Service

Full Service

Expert Service

The Billionaire’s Virgin

The Billionaire’s Secret Babies

 Her Best Friend’s Dad

Own Me

The Billionaire’s Gamble

Seven Days With Her Boss

Virgin in the Middle

The Virgin Promise

First and Last

Tease

Spread

Bang

Second Chance Stepbrother

Dirty Promise

Sext

Quickie

Bed Shaker

Deep in You
 The Billionaire’s Toy

Buying the Bride

Dating My Friend’s Daughter

Big Man

Trapped with My Teacher

My 5 Bosses

Good Girls Say Yes

His Big O er

Dangerous Love

The Roommate’s Baby

Perfect Boss

Cowboy Husband

Knocked Up By Her Brother’s Enemy

Flirt

Lust
 Claim

The Wife Arrangement

Big Mountain

The Baby Maker’s Club

Prom King

The Single Dad Arrangement

Getting Her Back

Hate to Lose You

Drink Me Up

For Her

For Us

Valentine’s Day Virgin

She Is Mine: Prequel to the Billionaire’s CamGirl

The Billionaire’s CamGirl

His Shy Virgin

Good Time Doctor

 Basket Stu er

Wife for Now

Rich Groom

Rich Soldier

Rich Player

Summer With My Dad’s Best Friend

Married to the Secret Billionaire

Overnight Wife

The Marriage Dare

Married to my Dad's Best Friend

Faking it for Mr. Right

Hooking Up with my Dad’s Best Friend

Kissing my Dad’s Friend

The Convenient Wife

Her Big Neighbor

 The Husband Game

Hard Fiancé

Work Me Up

Forbidden Bride

Boyfriend for the Summer

My Sweet Bully