I feel like I’m lost somewhere between heaven and the underworld. All I can do is breathe.
Until he takes my nipple in his teeth.
I gasp and hold my breath as he pulls it taut before letting it go. Giving me a teeny second of pain and then pure pleasure.
“Does that feel like middle school?” he says raggedly into my chest.
“Not at all.”
He grins at my chest, trails his tongue slowly from one boob to the other, and then takes it in his mouth.
A little moan escapes my lips.
Which seems to cause him to react. He sucks harder, massages harder, teases more, and his hips . . .
Oh. My. God.
My legs are spread apart. His hips are rocking between them.
Like we’re having hot sex on my kitchen counter.
I can feel his hardness pressing against me.
I push my hands just below the waistline of his pants.
He removes his lips from my chest and mutters, “Don’t. Unless you want me to stop what I'm doing.”
I quickly move my hands to his back.
I don’t want him to stop.
But I’m seriously going to have to wring my panties out after this.
Sunday, November 13th
Not PG.
4pm
We’re almost back to school when I notice the feathers attached to Aiden’s backpack. “I never got to finish with the feathers.”
His eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, really, what else were you planning?”
“I don’t know. Just, you know, rubbing them around some.”
“Rubbing them around or
gliding
them across my naked skin?”
“Uh, the gliding one” I say, swallowing hard, as my cheeks flush.
“Sounds like we have a date for next weekend.”
When we get back to my dorm, he gives me a sweet kiss.
“I loved our rainy day weekend,” I tell him.
“Me too. I have to get to the playoff meeting, otherwise I’d stay here and kiss you all night.”
He gives me one more kiss and then heads down to the field house.
I take my bags into my room and put my stuff away. Just as I finish, Maggie, Annie, Peyton, and Katie bound through the door.
“So what happened?” Katie asks.
“Did you sleep with him?” Maggie says at the same time.
“No, I didn’t.”
Maggie screws up her face. “Really?”
“Really. We're taking things slow. Really, super, excruciatingly slow.”
“So it wasn't that fun?” Annie questions.
“What? No. It was the most amazing weekend.” I tell them how we got dressed up and went to the top of the Empire State Building. I tell them all things we did and saw, but I keep the good parts to myself. I don't want to share them with anyone. They feel like they should be savored. “So what happened here?”
“Whitney and I took Cooper Steele to dinner,” Peyton says, her eyebrow raised, suggesting it was more than dinner.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. It was fun. The asshole is so charming, I’d share him if I had to. Hell, Whitney even suggested sharing—in a not so subtle way—but he acted like he didn't get it. Do you think he could be gay?”
“No, I think he's smart. He doesn't want to lose his job over a student when the guy could clearly get any woman he wanted.”
“Good point,” Peyton says. “I’m gonna have to try harder. Or maybe play hard to get.”
“Or give up.”
“No, not just yet. And it’s not like I care about him. I just don’t want Whitney to get him.”
“So what about you, Maggie? Did you decide to wait with Logan?”
“We didn't have sex, but we did everything else. Like you and Aiden.”
“You trying to trick me into admitting something?” I laugh. “It won’t work. Besides, there’s nothing to tell. I’m talking second base.” I was going to add that it was all very PG, but then I remember the deep kiss in the elevator, the ice the bathtub, the naked boobs on the kitchen counter. We may not have gone very far, but what we did felt so sexual, and so not PG.
Tuesday, November 15th
Stolen kisses.
11:45pm
Today was a blur. A happy blur. Of holding hands. Of sweet texts. Of stolen kisses between classes. Of whispering to each other at lunch. Of French words spoken in my ear. Of the pep rally. Of wishing him luck. Of winning the playoff game.
Of sitting on the bus with him on the way home.
We’re holding hands. Lazily rubbing them together. Sometimes his fingers are laced between mine. Sometimes clasped together. Sometimes just our pinkies touch. Sometimes he runs his fingertip across my palm. I watch our hands in a daze.
It’s like our hands are dancing.
I feel like I could sit for hours and do nothing but hold his hand in hundreds of different ways.
He stops every once in a while to bring my fingers to his lips.
I stop every once in a while to kiss his lips.
And then we’re back home, and it’s another amazing goodnight kiss.
Wednesday, November 16th
Sleeps with James Bond.
11am
Today is college and career day. The gym is set up with tables representing a multitude of college options. I dressed in a really cute uniform look for the occasion.
But first, I have an appointment with my academic advisor, who is going to give me the results of the career survey I took earlier this week.
“These surveys always make me laugh at the jobs they come back with,” Miss Praline says. “I just went over James Barnsworth the sixth’s—you know, of the railroad baron Barnsworths?—and it suggested a job as a sanitation worker. Can you imagine?”
I laugh. “Maybe he doesn’t want to join the family business.”
“Yours, however, are spot on. Actress, Producer, CIA Agent, Foreign Service Officer.” She hands me my results. “What do you think you want to do?”
I can’t say actress, for obvious reasons, so I go with one that actually sounds pretty cool. When I’m not reading romances, I read spy novels. I can totally picture myself as a badass spy. A classy one, though. Like the kind who gets dressed up in a designer gown, goes to fancy parties, carries a little gun in her garter, and sleeps with James Bond.
“I’ve always thought I wanted to be a doctor, but the CIA agent intrigues me. Really, it’s kinda brilliant. I have decent acting skills. I’m good with languages. And I love to travel. What would I have to do to become one?”
Miss Praline types a few things on her computer and prints out a sheet. “Here are some things you can do to prepare. Let’s see. Do a background check on yourself. Make sure your life stays squeaky clean. Don’t do drugs within twelve months of applying. Learn foreign languages.” She stops to look at me. “Do you speak anything other than French?”
“Yeah, I’m not as fluent but I can speak pretty well in Italian, Spanish, and German. I know some Swiss and Japanese too.”
She tilts her head at me. “Really?”
I nod. “Yeah, we traveled a lot when I was a kid, so I just sort of picked it up. Every summer I listen to audio books in other languages. It helps me remember.”
“It also says you should get good grades, major in something International, be physically and mentally fit, and willing to travel.”
“Sweet.”
“Okay, so now you can go talk to the colleges. Maybe check out their International Studies programs.”
“That sounds good. Thanks, Miss Praline.” I stop and turn around. “Hey, did my uncle ever call you?”
She blushes and fidgets with her necklace. “Um, oh, he did. He travels a lot. As you well know. But we did go to dinner recently. He was in town for work. It was the same day your soccer coach left. I remember I almost cancelled on him because of the impromptu going away party we had for her.”
“Was it a good date?”
“Well, yes. He’s very handsome and well-mannered.”
“Any plans for a future date?”
“We’ve talked about it. He’s always rushing off to somewhere for his job.” She lowers her voice. “Do you know what he does?”
“For a living?”
“Yeah, it’s interesting that you want to work for the CIA. I’m pretty sure your uncle could help get you a job there.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I think that’s what he does.”
“Interesting,” I say, quickly standing up before she can ask any more questions.
I try to imagine my future life without acting. Honestly, the CIA might not be a bad idea. I could use it to figure out a way to get rid of Vincent. Or maybe I could dye my hair like Mom suggested and do a realty TV show about being in the CIA.
Oh. Yeah. Scratch that. That might sorta defeat the whole clandestine thing.
I talk to colleges about their International Studies programs. Because that does actually interest me. I’d love to do semesters abroad.
Jake and Dawson are in front of the NYU table talking to the recruiters. “We missed the early decision admission, but we can still do the regular one, right?” I hear Jake ask.
Dawson pulls me over. “You should apply here too,” he says. “The three of us could have fun. Parties at your loft. Weekends in the Hamptons.”
“Studying during the week,” the recruiter says.
“Of course,” Dawson replies.
“You could study acting with me,” Jake says.
“I think I’m going to major in International Studies.”
The recruiter asks, “Which kind? We have Global Liberal Studies, an International Business program, and an International Relations program. As a freshman in the Global Liberal Studies program, you can choose to study in New York, or at NYUs in Florence, London, Shanghai, or Paris.”
“Paris? Um, that one. The Global Liberal Studies, please.”
He hands me a packet of information.
“You know,” Dawson says, “there are a lot of good schools in the city. Have you ever thought of transferring there for your senior year? Living full-time at your loft. Jake and I are gonna miss you.”
“I never thought of it. Honestly, I really only need a few more credits to graduate. I could do them in the summer if I wanted to and skip my senior year.”
“That’d be awesome! Come to college with us.”
“I’ll think about it. Are you two going there for sure?”
“As long as they let us in.”
“Have you talked to your parents yet, Jake?”
“No, but they came to the play. They thought I was good.”
“Maybe it won’t be such a shock, then?”
“My two older brothers both went into the family business, so there’s really no big need for me to. Other than my dad wanting to control us.”
“What do you want to major in, Dawson?”
“Business. I had never heard of it before, but the NYU dude was telling me about their MBA program. You can specialize in Luxury Marketing. That’s something you’d be good at. One of their classes is about doing business in Italy.”
“Italian leather,” I murmur. “That might be a really good degree for me.”
“I was thinking Italian sports cars, but you get what I’m saying.”
“How do people ever decide what to major in?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I think they guess.” He pulls me aside. “Seniors get the afternoon off. Wanna hang out?”
“I can’t skip, Dawson.”
“You have before.”
“I know, but . . .”
“You still don’t want to? Come on, Keatie. We haven’t done it for seventeen days and he still hasn’t asked you out. You haven’t done it with him, have you?”
“No.”
“Isn’t that killing you?”
I look down. “Kinda.”
“It’s not cheating if you aren’t in a relationship.”
“I know, Dawson. But I just can’t.”
Annie comes up and drags me away. “Let’s go to college together in Paris.”
“That would be cool. I was just looking at some International Studies programs. It’d be cool to study abroad.”
“It’s my dream.”
“How does Ace fit into that dream?”
She sighs big and shakes her head. “I have no idea. And, even worse, I have no idea how I’m going to survive him going to college next year. This college fair thing is really depressing. Part of me never wants to leave Eastbrooke. Another part of me can’t wait to start my life.”
“You’ve already started your life, Annie. But life is all about change. And sometimes changes happen when you least expect them.”
“Like yours?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your parents moving was a surprise, right? And you came here kinda last minute.”
“Yes, exactly. Sometimes you don’t expect it.”
“Do you like it here? Better than your old school?”
“It’s different than my old school,” I say.
But, honestly, my old school wasn’t all that different.
What’s different is me.
Thursday, November 17th
Stuff ourselves.
Soccer
After soccer, Peyton says, “Keatyn, come here.”
I jog over to her. “What’s up?”
“A couple things. I need more details about the trip. Like what we’ll be doing. What kind of clothes I should bring.”
“That’s easy. Some swimsuits for the day. A couple cover-ups. I usually wear a dress for dinner. I think I told you there’s a full staff, so we eat well and dinner’s kind of a big deal.”
“So a little more dressy?”
“Yeah, I know it’s seems silly with it being just the three of us. We wouldn’t have to dress up, but’s just sort of a . . .”
“Tradition?”
“Yeah. And of course, we’ll have a full-blown turkey dinner. Stuff ourselves.”
“And then watch football?”
“Yeah, there’s a really cool bar area that overlooks the ocean that has TVs and stuff, so we can enjoy both.”
“That sounds awesome. So, I have another question. Tell me what’s going on with you and Cooper.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Coach Steele.”
“Just the fact that you called him Coach Steele tells me you’re hiding something.”