Page 116 of On His Mind

My day moves on, and I busy myself with my little Sunday reset. I grocery shop, meal prep, start laundry, and do some homework. It doesn’t occupy me enough to free my mind ofPercy coming over tonight. I’m nervous, and it’s not the kind of nervous I expected. I didn’t know I’d be his first kiss, and if I was his first kiss, then that means he hasn’t slept with anyone before, andthatmakes me nervous. This isn’t about me. It’s about him, and if I’m going to be the person he trusts with that, if I’m going to be the person he’s decided to let his guard down around, then I need to make sure my head’s in it for the right reason. And that’s the disconnect. I want it so much that I can’t concentrate on a single thing. But under the wanting, there’s a tenderness that’s almost frightening — the responsibility of being someone’s first, of being trusted by a person who does not give his trust to anyone, of doing right by a thing that’s going to matter to him more than he’ll ever say.

I think about last night. His fingers in my hair. How gentle he kisses. How careful his hands are.

Tonight, I’m going to have to be that careful with him.

The afternoon stretches out long and unbearable. I draw and can’t stay in it. My hand keeps wandering, my mind keeps sliding forward to the night. I take an everything shower. Then I stand in front of my closet and change my mind about what to wear three times, which I never do — I dress with intention always, but I’ve never stood dithering in front of clothes like a girl waiting on a boy, and here I am, on my third change, because I can’t decide how I want him to see me.

The time crawls. I’ve tried everything to distract myself and there’s nothing, there’s just the wanting, so total now I can’t hold a thought for more than a few seconds before it slides back to him — his weight, his quiet, the careful hands, the fact that in a few hours he’s going to be inside my bedroom, and all I’ll want to do is feel him against me again.

I’ve never wanted anything the way I want him.

I sit at my window as the sun goes down, and I wait for it to be midnight.

Chapter 39

Percy

“Hi,”shesayswhenshe opens the door.

“Hey.”

And then neither of us knows what to do. I’m standing in her doorway in a jacket that’s too warm now that I’m inside, and she’s got her arms half-crossed, not defensive, just — not knowing where to put them either, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her since I kissed her.

“You found parking okay?” she whispers.

“I walked.”

“Right.” She steps back to let me in. “Sorry.”

I come in. She shuts the door quietly, and then we walk to her bedroom. I walk in the middle of her room as she closes the door behind us.

“You didn’t get to play both games,” she says.

“No, I didn’t play either, but I dress every game.” My voice comes out low. “Doesn’t mean much.”

“It means something.” She’s not looking at me now. She’s looking at the sketchbook on her bed. “Gianna said that backups matter.”

I stare at her face. I’ve thought about her face all weekend.

She grins. “I don’t know why I’m talking about hockey.”

“I don’t mind.”

She picks up her sketchbook and sets it down on her desk. Then she turns around, and there’s a beat where we just look at each other.

“Percy,” she breathes.

“Yeah.”

She inhales. “Come here.”

I go to her. I put my hand up to her face first, because I have to touch her. I run my palm along her jaw, and my thumb along the corner of her mouth. She pulls in her bottom lip, licking it then biting it. I forget about everything when I lean in and kiss her.

Her lips are soft as we kiss. Then she tugs my bottom lip between her teeth, and I open my eyes to look at her — she’s already watching me, smiling against my mouth. She grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me in. I kiss her again, deeper this time, and when she makes a small sound into my mouth I chase it, my hand finding the small of her back and bringing her in against me until she’s up on her toes, meeting me all the way, and every place she touches me lands like a struck match.

Her fingers slide up under my shirt and then tug at the hem, and she pulls back an inch, her eyes coming up to mine, asking. I can’t get a word out. I just nod, and reach back, and pull it over my head, and drop the shirt on the ground. Her eyes travel down and stay there. She catches her bottom lip in her teeth, and I swallow hard.

Then she pulls her own shirt off, and it’s my turn to forget how to breathe. Black lace and a stretch of skin. I put my hand flat against her stomach just to feel her breathe. She shivers when I lean in and kiss her. And then I stop — I pull back an inch and watch my own hand move up her side, slow, because I have never once in my life gotten to do this, and I want to see it.