“Hold on,” Clark said, sounding half out of breath as he fumbled with one hand behind him, trying to find his bedroom doorknob.
“Holding,” I said, and I leaned down to kiss him, even though I knew I was making the situation worse. We’d been on the couch when I’d decided that I couldn’t stand it any longer—I was getting a crick in my neck, and the fabric of the cushions was scratching my skin. It just seemed crazy that we were putting ourselves through that when there was a perfectly good, unused bed right down the hall.
We hadn’t stopped kissing as we walked, and even though I knew it was probably slowing us down. Clark was half carrying me, my legs wrapped around his waist, as he finally opened the door and stumbled for a few steps inside. I kissed him again, and we stayed that way for a long moment before he set me down and I looked around, taking in his room for the first time since the night of Bertie and the chocolate. It looked the same—the neat stacks of clothing, the carefully made bed. Although I did notice that the books on writer’s block seemed to have vanished from the top of his desk.
I looked at the bed for a long moment, letting my mind go places it probably shouldn’t. As things with us had progressed, our discussions over the last two weeks about taking things to the next level had gone from “if” to “when.” Which was exciting and scary and overwhelming and pretty much all I could think about.
“You okay?” Clark asked, squeezing my hand. I squeezed his back and made myself look away from the bed, making myself remember that this random Tuesday would not be the night. I had to get my head around it a little more first, talk to my friends, and actually do my hair, as opposed to just twisting it into a knot like I’d done tonight. I wanted it to be totally special.
“Hey,” Clark said from behind me as his slid his arms around my waist and kissed that one spot on my shoulder. He pulled me closer against him, and I swore I could feel the beat of his heart against my back. I turned to face him, and he ran his hand over my hair, his fingers trailing down my cheek, stroking along my jawline so gently, like I was something precious. He leaned down to kiss me, and I kissed him back, and then we were kiss-walking across the room, until we fell down onto the bed together, and then there was only his lips and his hands and our breath, falling into a rhythm until I couldn’t think about anything except him, and us, and now.
? ? ?
“Talk,” Palmer said, pointing her Twizzler at me. “Andie. Details.”
I rolled over to look at her, holding my hand up to cut the glare. We were sunbathing on Palmer’s roof, all four of us. Our schedules had aligned for the afternoon, and it wasn’t until we’d set up there, with towels and snacks, that I realized it had been a while since it had been just us—no boyfriends or crushes or Tom. And how much I’d missed just the four of us hanging out. “What?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew. And it was one of the reasons I’d wanted to hang out with them today—I needed some girl talk, and to figure out what I was feeling, in a way I never seemed to be able to except when we were together.
“Come on,” Bri said, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head. “You and Clark. Spill.”
I wasn’t quite able to stop myself from smiling as I smoothed out the edges of my towel. This, truthfully, was a new experience for me. My friends and I all knew every detail of what the others had done with guys—but I usually didn’t have anything to contribute to this conversation. I’d been keeping things vague with them and letting them believe I was still safe within my old boundaries.
“Wait, what?” Toby asked, as she paused in applying her spray-on sunscreen to her legs. She turned to me, her expression incredulous. “Don’t tell me the queen of first base is actually doing something.”
“She totally is,” Palmer said, nodding with authority. “You don’t lose that many IQ points if you’re just kissing someone.”
“First of all,” I said, busying myself with smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in my towel, “why does first base get such a bad rap? It’s like the most important base.”
“This is true,” Bri said, nodding. “And I know it’s true, because in every movie, the first baseman is always really cute.”
“I’m just saying, wait until you try the other bases,” Palmer said, waggling her eyebrows at us.
“No,” Toby said, holding up her hand. “Please no. Every time you talk about sleeping with Tom, I end up picturing him naked.”
“You might be surprised to know—” Palmer started, raising an eyebrow as Toby waved her hands in front of her face.
“Seriously, stop it.” She shuddered. “And now I’m seeing it,” she said, shaking her head. “And I can’t unsee it.”
“All I’m saying,” Palmer said, turning to me, “is that the other bases are just more interesting.”
“Mmm-hm,” Bri said, taking a long drink of her soda.