But Ashton’s eyes are still locked on mine so I don’t resist him. “. . . is that they’re not good. . . .” With a quick tug, he has my hips at the edge of the bed. His fingers skate along the length of my legs as he wraps them over his shoulders. He breaks eye contact from me for the first time to start laying kisses along my inner thigh, slowing inching in, his breath sending shivers of anticipation upward. “. . . for things like this.”
I gasp as his tongue touches me. At first I’m beyond uncomfortable, exposed like this. I mean, having Ashton’s face so intimately there is, well, nerve-racking. But it feels . . .amazing. And with his expert tongue and adept fingers working in tandem, I soon start to feel that familiar build, the one where I shut out the world. I let my head dip back and my eyes close and a shaky sigh escape my lips as I try to memorize how incredible this feels. That must be a sign for Ashton, because his mouth becomes more feverish and excited and his hands squeeze my thighs, pulling me closer into him.
When the wave is about to hit me again, I can’t help but roll my head back up and look down at him. His eyes are locked on mine with that odd sense of peace behind them.
And it makes me scream out his name.
I’m a limp doll as Ashton shifts my body back onto the bed. He tucks me under the covers and then lifts his arms to rest on the edge. “Don’t you want me to . . . ?” I bite my lip as a blush heats my cheeks.
With a secretive smile, he smooths my hair off my forehead. “I’ve been tied up the last few nights and I’m behind on a paper. I should go work on it.” I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of his thumb stroking my cheek, reveling in this deep intimacy forming between Ashton and me. I drift off.
Reagan slips in at around eleven that night. I redressed at some point but I’m still lying in bed, my face buried in the pillow that smells like Ashton’s cologne, my afternoon with him on mental repeat. I’m holding on to that euphoric afterglow with two gripped hands, desperate to keep the guilt and doubt and confusion from swirling back into my lungs like suffocating black smoke.
“Hey, Reagan. How’s it going?”
She flops into her bed. “I got kicked out of the library for being too loud.”
I snort. “Too loud at what exactly?” Schoolwork isn’t a guaranteed pastime for Reagan at the library, after all.
“Studying by myself. Go figure, right?” I giggle, knowing exactly why. Reagan tends to talk out loud when she’s working through her textbooks. I think it’s cute, but most people would find it annoying. “If only they knew . . .” There’s a pause, and then she casually mentions, “I saw Connor there tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” I try to make that light and airy as the guilty virgin slut coils tighten around my chest.
The bed frame creaks as Reagan shifts beneath me. “He asked how you were doing. You know, because of a bad midterm mark.”
I sigh. “I’m doing . . . better.”
“Good.”
I pause to take a deep breath. And then I just blurt it out. “I think I’m going to end things with Connor.”
“Oh yeah? Maybe you should wait until after the weekend.” There’s another shift and the sound of tugging sheets, as if Reagan can’t get comfortable.
I find it strange that she doesn’t ask why, that she doesn’t sound at all shocked by my statement. Why not? I’m shocked. If I had written down on a piece of paper everything that I thought should comprise the ideal man for me, and then drew a caricature, I’d have a page with Connor on it. “He wants me to meet his parents.” How can I do that now? His mother will know! Mothers have radar for these things. She’ll out me publicly. It will be the first stoning in Princeton rowing history.
“So meet his parents and then break it off. You’re not promising marriage. Otherwise you’ll make things really awkward for Connor and yourself the day of the race. It’s already going to be awkward.”
“Why?”
“Because Dana will be there.”
That name . . . it’s like a punch to my sternum. “So what if she’s there. There’s nothing going on between Ashton and me.” Liar! Liar! Liar!
There’s a pause. “Well, that’s good, because Ashton’s going to be dead by tomorrow anyway.”
“What?” Panic bursts.
“He skipped practice tonight. My dad tracked him down. He’s probably still out running laps, and it’s cold out there.”
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that. Guilty, definitely, because he’s being punished for being with me. But . . . my hands press flat against my belly as my heart ruptures with emotion. He knew it would happen and he did it anyway.
Reagan is still talking. “And don’t forget there’s the Halloween party that night. You don’t want to make that super awkward. It’s not like you and Connor are sleeping together yet . . . .right?”
“Right . . . Is Dana going to be there?”
“No, I overheard Ashton saying that she’ll be visiting her family in Queens.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Anyway, that’s my vote. Wait until next week before you dump your pretty boy.”
I sigh. “Yeah, I guess.” What’s another few days of festering guilt? It’s a good idea, actually. Punish myself. I deserve it. I roll onto my side, my brain worked into exhaustion. “’Night, Reagan.”