Megan asked me to go to prom, I type. With that new girl, Chloe. As friends.

I wait, seeing the Read receipt, but seconds turn into a minute, and she’s not replying. She’s not even typing.

If none of us have dates, we’ll go together. I hesitate, my mouth dry as my fingers hover over the screen. I’m going to say yes.

She sees the text but still nothing. That’s good, I guess. This is the reality. If I’m not going with her, I’ll go with someone.

I wait another few moments, and I text again. We’re meeting up this weekend to dress shop.

I toss the phone down, but it immediately rings. I stare at it, the pulse in my neck kicking into gear.

Great. I answer, no time to say hello before she speaks. “That girl doesn’t take a hint, does she?”

“This isn’t about her, and you know it.”

I know very well the shit she pulled with Megan was to scare her away from me, and while I kind of like Clay’s jealous side, Megan’s not the issue.

“You don’t even want to go to prom,” she says.

“When did I say that?” I lower my voice so Lavinia doesn’t hear. “I’d actually like to go. You’ll be with Callum anyway, so why shouldn’t I? You thought I’d stay home, waiting for your call afterward when you’re ready to have sex? When I’m good enough for that?”

But not good enough to be seen with? We don’t have to go together, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get to go at all.

Clay is silent for a few seconds, and when she speaks again, her tone is quiet. “Please don’t go with them.”

“But you can go with Callum?”

“I don’t want to fuck Callum!” she shouts.

“And I don’t want to fuck Megan!” I fire back. “I never did!”

I breathe hard, wishing she was here, so I could fucking grab her and kiss her crazy. Is she stupid? Does she not feel everything that happens between us when I’m on top of her?

That it hurts to worry that she might go looking in Callum for what she might not find in me?

I dip my head into the bulletin board on the wall, tears filling my eyes as I hold the phone to my ear. “Do you have any idea…”

But I can’t say the rest. I pull my head up, blinking away the tears. It hurts. It fucking hurts to see her touching him, and I’m sick of tap dancing around her bullshit. Does she have any idea how much that cut today, to see her in his arms?

“You’ve been the best I’ve had,” I tell her. “It’s like nothing else, Clay. Honestly. But I don’t want to ruin this. Maybe we should stop before—”

“Baby…” she bites out, interrupting me. “If I think you’re not mine, I might make a scene. Be very careful what you say next.”

Her hard voice cuts into my ear, the sudden threat a surprise.

And I smile, despite myself. I do like Clay’s jealousy.

“Are you threatening me?” I jibe. “You haven’t seen what I can do yet.”

“Oh, I know what you can do.”

And my phone buzzes with a text. I look at the screen, click on the photo, and see Clay on her stomach. She peeks over her arm, locks of hair in her face and her naked back visible just before her naked ass.

Heat pools between my thighs, and I gaze at her skin and mussed hair like she always looks after I’m done with her.

I groan louder than I expect before putting the phone back to my ear.

“You can do anything you want to me, that’s what,” she says. “And I want to take you on a date tomorrow night, to Mariette’s.”

I listen. A date?

“You ever eat raw oysters?” she goes on. “I want to watch you eat and get you drunk and hot on tequila and sweat with you and fuck you in the back seat of my car. And I want to do that as many times as I can before we have to leave each other in August, because nothing feels better than you, Jaeger. Nothing.”

I lick my lips, my whole body wired and hot, and she’s fucking right. She’s the only thing I look forward to.

“Turn over,” I tell her. “I want a topless one.”

She’s got pictures of me. It’s my turn now.

A moment later, my phone vibrates, and I see her sitting on the edge of the bed, the phone up high with a view of everything from her little smirk down to her stomach. I strain my eyes, trying to see farther down than where the picture cuts off, but I’ll have to wait to see her in person, I guess.

“I’ll meet you there at eight,” I say.

“I’ll bring the booze.”

And we hang up, an excited smile that I don’t release warming my blood.

“God, I think I like you a little,” I whisper.

She gets me going, and while I may not be holding her hand in public, I own her body. She loves it with me.

My face heats up, thinking about tomorrow, and I look in the mirror, seeing a blush on my cheeks.

I pat my face, shaking my head clear. “Snap out of it.”

But I don’t stop smiling the rest of the night.

“YOU HAVE TO stop,” I pant as she sucks on my neck. “I want to be crazy for you tonight.”

I want to be starving for her.

But she slides her hands up my skirt as I straddle her in the desk, her fingers digging into my ass. “I can’t help it. Those pictures drove me insane.”

I dive into her lips again, unable to fathom wanting to ever be anywhere else.

The abandoned woodshop classroom at the end of the second floor sits far away from any remaining students in the school. Most have gone home for the day, but athletics is still going on and I’m late to meet my friends, but I don’t care.

The desktop cuts into my back, but I thread my hand through her hair, gripping it at the base of her skull, and pull her head back. I stare down at her, keeping my eyes open as I come in for kiss after kiss after kiss. She’s so soft. I grind back and forth, loving the feel of her slender body between my legs.

“It’s just fucking, right?” I whisper.

She gazes up at me as I roll my hips, her hands pulling me in harder but nice and slow. “I just wish time would stop,” she tells me.

I kiss her mouth. Her face. Her cheekbone. Her mouth again.

Four hours. I’ll see her in four hours.

The final bell rings, signaling the end of the teachers’ work day, and I growl, knowing we have to go.

“I have to get to the theater,” she says, but makes no move to stop caressing me through my underwear.

I kiss her one last time. “And I have to meet Amy and Krisjen.” I whimper, breaking into a sweat as I climb off her. “I’ll see you at eight, okay?”

She rises, we kiss, grab our bags, and head for the door, stopping periodically to paw each other, giggle, and kiss some more.

“Do you have it?” she asks.

I smile, knowing what’s on her mind. Digging in my bag, I pull out the toy—a long, black, vibrating, strapless gadget that filled me with equal parts dread and excitement when I took it out of the package.

“Whoa.” She pushes my hand down, trying to hide it from the window in the door. “You brought it to school?”