“I’ve never cheated on any girlfriend except for in first grade when I kissed Kimberly Mathers on the playground after I agreed to go steady with Lisa Smith.”

  “See? You’re bad to the bone, Ben. A heartbreaker through and through.”

  He laughs and nuzzles his nose against my neck, trying to get me to wrap my arms around him. Eventually, he grows impatient and tugs me up onto his lap. I let him position me against his chest as we recline on his couch. He glides a hand up and down my back, gently reassuring me with his touch.

  We stay like that for a bit as my cheek presses against his chest. I can hear the steady beat of his heart, and it soothes me. My finger draws circles on his shirt, just below his collarbone. We’re quiet for so long I almost jump when he speaks again.

  “You know this isn’t some casual fling I’d toss away for a chance at a one-night stand.” His expression grows deeply serious as he cups my cheek and tilts it so his brown eyes can burrow into my soul as he smiles timidly and admits softly, “I love you, Birdie.”

  His admission strikes through me. My lips part in shock.

  Love?

  Nan is the last person who told me she loved me, well before her disease took hold, before I left for California. I never took the word for granted. Growing up, there wasn’t enough love surrounding me, so when Nan passed it hurt all the more.

  Does Ben realize that?

  Does he realize I haven’t said “I love you” to someone in so long I can’t find my voice? It’s so deeply buried under emotion that I can’t draw upon it. Instead, I arch up and kiss him on the lips, trailing my mouth down his chin and jaw then lower along his neck. I grow bolder and sit up straighter on him, settling myself in the center of his lap as my kisses grow wild and abandoned. His love is freeing, and I want to show him that.

  He realizes before I do that we can’t continue kissing out in the living room where anyone could walk by. He stands and lifts me up, carrying me to his bedroom as my legs wrap around his waist. His hands grip and knead my backside and I kiss him in a frenzy, not caring if we bump into corners or walls. What’s a little bruise in the name of love?

  He laughs at my relentless need, tumbling quickly toward the bed and sitting down on the edge so I stay on his lap. Hungrily, he grabs my shirt and tugs it up and over my head. It hits the floor and he leans in, kissing between my breasts, just over my heart. He stills for a moment, breathing me in, and I rest my hands on his shoulders as my heart drums against his mouth. It’s excruciating to slow down, but I let him stay there as his finger trails around my bra cup, eliciting goose bumps from my head to my toes.

  Gently, he tugs the material down, baring me for his lips.

  I squeeze my eyes closed as he rolls his tongue over my breast, taking the weight of his hand before moving to the other side and tugging my other bra cup down as well. He looks hypnotized, and it emboldens me enough to reach back and unclasp my bra. The silky straps fall down my arms and Ben finishes the rest of the job for me, tugging it off and dropping it to the floor behind my back. In a flash, his mouth returns, hungry as he licks and kisses and works me up. My hips keep moving and it feels so torturous. Every time he elicits a moan from me, I want to do the same for him. I want to share this madness.

  My hand slides down between our bodies, first underneath his shirt, and then lower, beneath the hem of his pants. His zipper comes undone just enough to let me slide my hand into his boxer briefs. He’s hard as steel and so smooth I can’t resist the first few strokes. I lose track of my objective. I just want to feel him, remind myself of how luxurious it is to have him in my hand, at my mercy.

  Love, I remind myself. This is in the name of love.

  My name is a whisper on his lips as I guide my hand up and down, pumping. His mouth moves from one breast to the other, and then my hand squeezes tighter and he’s suddenly at his limit.

  He lifts me up, twists around, and drops me on the bed with a soft plop.

  His eyes glide over my body like a feather, making me shiver. For agonizing seconds, he only looks, stealing pieces of me with his gaze, plucking my heart right out of my body.

  When his eyes land on my navel, he reaches out to touch me like he can’t help himself. He hovers over me with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he bends slowly, his mouth kissing down my belly until he reaches the waistband of my yoga pants. He makes quick work of them, along with my panties, dropping them both on top of my bra.

  “More?” he asks, his lips skimming my hip bone.

  I arch off the bed, hoping he’ll do that again.

  “Birdie?” he demands again.

  I fist my hands in his hair and nod over and over again, and still, it’s not enough. He wants me to say it. His brown eyes look up at me with piercing need.

  “Yes.”

  He bends his elbows and falls down on me like I’m the source of long-awaited solace after a hard day, the dessert at the end of a meal. His cheek rests against my navel and I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to cry, willing myself to keep it together long enough to see this through without the embarrassment of tears.

  He kisses me and drags his hand down lower, gripping my thighs and spreading me. He kisses me again and shifts lower. It’s all so smooth—the way his hand slides between my thighs, the way his mouth follows. The combination of both is soul-searing. I want to cry out, but I clamp my lips together and keep my eyes closed. He shifts until his shoulders are sandwiched between my thighs, and he settles into place as if he intends to be there a while.

  I arch up off the bed when his finger circles and then presses into me, followed by a second one. He pumps in and out, and I peek my eyes open to see his attention caught on my parted legs before he leans in and tastes me.

  My mouth drops open on a silent moan. Long strokes of his tongue are enough to undo me in seconds, but I stave it off, shifting, fighting, arching, rocking—I want the blissful ending and yet I’m running from it, wanting so much more of this, desperate for it to last forever. He wins though; his finger curls inside me and an orgasm races through me so suddenly I cry out.

  He’s relentless as he coaxes out every last moan, and when he rises up to rip his shirt off his head and retrieve a condom from his bedside drawer, I’m nothing more than a mass of useless limbs. He smiles down at me, proud, clearly.

  I let him rearrange us higher on the bed, grateful he can do the heavy lifting because I just…can’t. He unzips his pants and tugs them down. He rips the condom open and slides it on while I watch with rapt attention. His eyes capture mine. He wants further consent and I nod, giving it to him eagerly. I’d beg if he wanted. I’d plead and cry and demand he let me feel this heaven on earth. There’s nothing like it, I’m reminded, as he settles himself between my legs and teases me with a few strokes before gently pushing his length in the first inch. His hand splits my legs farther, and he slides in a little more.

  I clamp down out of impulse, and he groans.

  “Sorry!”

  He laughs and shakes his head, apparently at a loss for words. I don’t think my apology was necessary.

  He falls down to one elbow, kissing my cheek and neck as he pushes in, edging in farther and farther until he can’t go any more, until I feel like I’m so full it’s borderline painful.

  “Relax,” he whispers, flattening his finger over my eyebrows, and I realize I’ve been nervously bracing myself.

  I smile, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him like crazy, all over his face and lips and neck. I want to tell him how insane he makes me feel, how much I’ve longed for this moment ever since he walked out of my life.

  “God, I missed you,” he says, sounding agonized.

  I finally lose the battle with my tears, wishing I could conceal them, wishing I wasn’t so intimately touched by our lovemaking. It’s just so unbearably good, his naked chest on mine, his hands on my skin.

  Let’s move to Mexico.

  Let’s leave our lives.

  Let’s get married, have children, get matching tattoos.

  He could suggest anything right now and I would be ready and willing.

  And then he starts to rock in and out of me, creating a rhythm, dragging his hands down my body, and when he touches between my parted legs, I arch off the bed and dig my nails into his shoulders. I come again and then he turns us around and lies back, sits me up on top of him, and watches as I start to roll my hips back and forth for him. He looks lost in the sight of us together. His brown eyes are soft and warm as they skim over my body. His hands grip my waist as he holds me down, stilling me as his body jerks and his fingers bite into my skin. I feel it when he lets go, watching with awe, soaking up the power that comes from having him underneath me like this, absolutely enraptured.

  When he finishes and quiets, I fall down and lie on his chest, catching my breath and staring off at the balcony doors, letting my gaze go unfocused and hazy on the night sky. Tiny balls of light dance in my vision—stars, I realize—as Ben’s chest rises and falls, moving my head along with it. He’s still inside me. A bond that feels utterly unbreakable. A perverse part of me wants to stay here forever, keep him underneath me always. But my eyelids get heavy and start to close. Ben stirs a few minutes later, and we begrudgingly rise to rejoin the world.

  I grow embarrassed and self-conscious once we extricate ourselves and stand. My nakedness feels almost obscene now, every freckle and dimple on display. I peer up and Ben is staring. My blush doubles down and he walks over to me, grabs my hand, and tugs me into the bathroom so he can run a hot shower. We step in together without speaking, soap ourselves and each other. He has to bend down so much for me to reach the top of his head, I can’t help but laugh.

  When we’re done, we dry off and change. Inside the closet where I’ve stored a few items, I see that Nina’s added even more. There are a few comfy sets of pajamas and plenty of panties and bras to choose from. I make a mental note to thank her, again.

  The next day, Ben has a game, and I finally drag myself back to the Caltech campus. It’s the Saturday before classes resume after spring break, and I can no longer put off the inevitable. I have nearly fifty unread emails that are waiting for responses, not to mention my friends are all back in town. Kayla greets me when I walk into our room with a huge smile.

  “Someone had a very good, very sex-filled spring break,” she says, stopping me dead in my tracks.

  How does she know? Were we not as careful as we thought with the paparazzi?

  My confused expression makes her roll her eyes. “Me. I had a sex-filled spring break,” she says before unfurling a huge gloating smile. “Not only did I see Daniel AKA Mr. Break My Heart Senior Year of High School, but he was looking fine as shit. One thing led to another, as it always does when I’m wearing that Revolve dress, and well…let’s just say the boy is begging for a relationship.”

  By this point, she’s inspecting her fingernails as if the entire topic bores her.

  “And? Are you going to do it?”

  She looks offended. “Absolutely not.”

  I laugh and she looks up, shooting me a playful wink before turning back to finish unpacking her bag. And by unpacking, I mean dumping out the contents onto her bed in one big heap.

  “Anyway, what did you do? Tell me you didn’t languish away in Cahill. So help me god, if you—”

  The door to our room slams open suddenly, and I leap back as Julia and Ryan come to a screeching halt, catching their breaths as if they ran all the way here.

  “You!” Julia shouts, pointing at me before bending over and holding her knees.

  She nudges Ryan as if to get him to continue whatever she was about to say, but he can barely function either. He stands and sucks in air, waving his hand in circles.

  “You and—” he manages.

  “Ben,” Julia finishes.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you two?” Kayla asks with a snappy tone. “Are you on drugs? I specifically told you not to leave me out if you were ever going to try something and now look at you, high as kites. What was it? Mushrooms? A little molly? Did someone bring pot brownies into the computer lab again and leave them for unsuspecting freshmen?”

  “Ben Castillo!” Ryan shouts, having finally gathered the strength to speak.

  Kayla looks at me for an explanation. “What is wrong with them?”

  At this point, I should take pity on everyone and explain the situation, but I’d rather see how far Julia and Ryan are willing to take this.

  Julia stands and points at me, shouting in one go, “You and Ben Castillo are dating!”

  Kayla screams at the top of her lungs. It’s ear-piercing and glass-shattering and it seems to go on for a solid minute.

  “WHAT?!”

  The remainder of my afternoon is spent filling them in on everything I’ve been withholding. They sit on the edge of my bed, listening, mostly mute except for the occasional “Wait a minute” or “How did you two meet again?” or “Just how big are we talking?” (That comes from Kayla, of course.)

  By the end of my explanation, Kayla still thinks we’re all trying to pull some big prank on her, which is understandable given how extremely unlikely it is that I would be dating a professional athlete.

  “FaceTime him right now,” she says, pointing at my phone. “If you’re really dating him then FaceTime him right now.”

  I laugh and reach for my phone. “Okay, but he has a game later so there’s no telling what he’ll be doing right now.”

  I scroll to his name in my contact list and press the FaceTime button. It starts to ring and we sit patiently for a few seconds. I highly doubt he’ll answer. He’s undoubtedly busy, but then low and behold, the video call connects and Ben’s handsome face fills the screen.

  Before he can even say hi though, Anthony ducks into the frame. “Sorry Birdie, Benny-boy is in the locker room right now—you two can’t have phone sex.”

  Kayla’s scream fills the room again as she flies off the bed. “THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING! I AM LOSING MY SHIT!”

  I look down at Ben, who’s smiling good-naturedly despite looking thoroughly confused.

  I wink. “Call me after your game?”

  He nods.

  “Good luck.”

  “Love you.”

  It’s Anthony’s turn to shout in the background. “I knew it! I fucking KNEW IT.”

  Then the call cuts off and three sets of eyes blink at me in shock.

  I have a feeling this will take some getting used to for them, understandably. I’m still getting used to it.

  “Y’all look like you might pass out,” I tease.

  Kayla closes her gaping mouth, narrows her eyes, and crosses her arms as if preparing for a proper interrogation. “Okay. Right. Start again from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out. You met him at a gas station? Like…what? How? Do I need to go hang out at QuikTrip all day so I can meet a professional athlete too?”

  Later that night, when I’m in bed, Ben calls.

  Kayla is lying flat on her bed, watching an episode of Outlander with her headphones in, but she must hear my phone vibrate because she immediately pauses her show and looks my way.

  “Is that him?”

  I nod, biting back a huge smile as I answer it. “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  His voice sends tingles down my spine.

  “Are you heading home?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I’m in the car now, didn’t have to stay long after my game. Should I have Hermann swing by and pick you up so I can take you home with me?”

  I flush. “Ben. I need to get some things done in the morning before classes start again on Monday.”

  “You can use my study.”

  I laugh. “Remember how well that worked last time?”

  “Caleb is with Shelby tomorrow. I wouldn’t disturb you.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  He chuckles as if even he knows I’m right.

  My phone buzzes suddenly, and I pull it away from my ear to check the text.

  “Leanna just texted me,” I tell Ben, reading it aloud. “She’s bummed I wasn’t at the game and wondering if I want to go out to dinner with Eva and her for a girls’ night tomorrow.”

  Kayla—who’s been listening to my conversation the entire time—interjects. “You are not going without me. You don’t get to start dating a celebrity and just up and ditch your old boring friends. I will also be coming to this dinner tomorrow night, and so will Julia because it’s her birthday Monday and we need to get her drunk. So tell your fancy friend you’d love to go to girls’ night and you’ll be bringing two tagalongs.”

  Ben, who’s heard Kayla’s entire spiel, laughs and says, “Sounds like you’re going out tomorrow.”

  “Is that okay?”

  “You don’t need my permission, but I’d like you to take Nikko, and Hermann can drive you and your friends.”

  “Okay.”

  We’re quiet for a moment, and I’m suddenly filled with a sense of longing. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. The offer to pick you up still stands.”

  I bite back a smile. “You’re relentless.”

  “Hi. Yoo-hoo. Some of us are trying to watch Scottish hotties in peace, so if you two could wrap up your lovey-dovey phone call, that’d be great.”

  I laugh. “Guess I have to go.”

  “Call me tomorrow when you have time?” he asks.

  “Of course.”

  “Night, Birdie. Love you.”

  My mouth opens and I almost say it back. I love him. I do. It’s just been so long since I’ve said the words out loud to someone. I can’t quite do it.

  “Night, Ben.”

  Eva has been put in charge of our dinner location, which is mildly distressing. She texts me in the early afternoon on Sunday with suggested attire, and her directive is as follows: “Wear something that shows a little skin. NO FLATS. NO MAXI DRESSES. I WILL CUT YOUR DRESS IF IT GOES PAST YOUR KNEES.”

  When I show this text to Kayla, she gives it a wholehearted round of applause. “Okay, yes. I don’t know who Eva is, but I can already tell she and I are going to be friends.”