Hopeless

back.

    No, we haven’t had sex yet. We’ve done almost everything else, though, so I’m sure his patience will wear out soon. Ask me again after tomorrow night, I might have a different answer. Miss you more.

    I hit send and stare at the phone. I haven’t really thought about whether or not I’m ready to pass that first yet, but I guess I just admitted to myself that I am. I wonder if inviting me to his house is his way of finding out if I’m ready, too.
    I put the car into reverse and my phone sounds off. I pick it up and it’s a text from Holder.

    Don’t leave. I’m walking back to your car.

    I put the car in park again and roll down my window, just as he approaches. “Hey,” he says, leaning into my window. He darts his eyes away from mine and he looks around the car nervously. I hate this uncomfortable look about him, it always means he’s about to say something I might not want to hear.
    “Um...” He looks back at me and the sun is shining straight on him, highlighting every beautiful feature about him. His eyes are bright and they’re looking into mine like they would never want to look anywhere else. “You uh…you just sent me a text that I’m pretty sure you meant to send to Six.”
    Oh God, no. I immediately grab my phone and check to see if he’s telling the truth. Unfortunately, he is. I throw the phone on the passenger seat and fold my arms across the steering wheel, burying my face into my elbow. “Oh my, God,” I groan.
    “Look at me, Sky,” he directs. I ignore him and wait for a magic wormhole to come and suck me away from all the embarrassing situations I get myself into. I feel his hand touch my cheek and he pulls my face in his direction. He’s looking at me, full of sincerity.
    “Whether it’s tomorrow night or next year, I can promise you it’ll be the best damn night of my life. You just make sure you’re making that decision for yourself and no one else, okay? I’ll always want you, but I’m not going to let myself have you until you’re one hundred percent sure you want me just as much. And don’t say anything right now. I’m turning around and walking back to my car and we can pretend this conversation never happened. Otherwise, you may never stop blushing.” He leans in the window and gives me a quick kiss. “You’re cute as hell, you know that? But you really need to figure out how to work your phone.” He winks at me and walks away. I lean my head against the headrest and silently curse myself.
    I hate technology.

    I spend the rest of the night doing my best to push the embarrassing text out of my head. I help Karen package things up for her next flea market, then eventually crawl into bed with my e-reader. As soon as I power it on, my cell phone lights up on the nightstand.

    I’m walking to your house right now. I know it’s late and your mom is home, but I can’t wait until tomorrow night to kiss you again. Make sure your window is unlocked.

    After I read the text I jump out of bed and lock my bedroom door, thankful Karen called it an early night two hours ago. I immediately go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and hair, then turn out the lights and crawl back into bed. It’s after midnight and he’s never snuck in while Karen was home before. I’m nervous, but it’s an exciting nervous. The fact that I don’t feel the least bit guilty that he’s on his way over is proof that I’m going to Hell. I’m the worst daughter ever.
    Several minutes later, my window slides up and I hear him making his way inside. I’m so excited to see him that I run to meet him at the window and wrap my arms around his neck, then jump up and make him hold me while I kiss him. His hands have a firm grip on my ass and he walks to the bed, dropping me down gently.
    “Well, hello to you, too,” he says, smiling widely. He stumbles slightly, then falls on top of me and brings his lips to mine again. He’s trying to kick off his shoes but he struggles, then starts laughing.
    “Are you drunk?” I ask.
    He presses his fingers to my lips and tries to stop laughing, but he can’t. “No. Yes.”
    “How drunk?”
    He moves his head to my neck and runs his mouth lightly along my collarbone, sending a surge of heat through me. “Drunk enough to want to do bad things to you, but not drunk enough that I would do them drunk,” he says. “But just drunk enough to still remember them tomorrow if I did do them.”
    I laugh, completely confused by his answer, yet