After Vanessa left this morning, I rushed off to school for my classes today. Tony and Craig made fun of me throughout class about “Vanilla Vanessa” and kept asking how far I’ve gotten with her.

I kept brushing off their questions and got angry when they asked vulgar questions about her. It upset me, having them speak that way about her.

After class, I stop by the library on campus to focus on my schoolwork.

I don’t know what it is about this girl that makes me to want to treat her like a queen. She’s special and not someone I want to take to a bar and sleep with afterwards. Craig and Tony reminded me earlier that I still have a whole month left with her, and I wonder about what happens after the month is done? I’m sure I’ll remain friends with her. I don’t want to just walk. I know that, once we have sex, my obsession with her will go away. I’m sure of it. It has to, doesn’t it?

After working on my lecture notes for a few hours, I head off to another class.

All through class, I want to head back home and find out who broke into Vanessa’s house. Things are odd: I know so little about her, yet feel compelled to protect her.

After class is over, I head to the coffee shop where I took Vanessa when we first met. With coffee in hand, I stare to my notes from my last class. Knowing I need to call Mr. Robert’s or my father will have my ass, I pull my phone out of my back pocket. When it finally connects, I hear his hello loud and clear. “Hi, Mr. Roberts. It’s Trace Weston.” Why did I add the Weston part to my name? I am sure he knows who I am.

“Trace, my boy. How are you?” he says into the phone loudly.

“Hi, sir. I’m great. My father asked me to call you concerning the summer internship with you.”

“Yes. Can we meet somewhere?” he asks.

“Sure. When?”

“No better time than the present.”

I look around and frown. Not wanting to meet this fucker now, I sigh. “Sure thing. Where?” I ask, frustration pouring through me.

“Ever heard of Pesto’s?”

Oh no, not there. The thought of seeing Vanessa again sounds amazing, but not this way. Not with Roberts.

“Yes, I have heard of it.”

“Can you be there in an hour?” he asks, laughing into the phone with that cocky attitude of his.

“Sure,” I mumble.

Hanging up with Mr. Roberts, I debate if I should text Vanessa to let her know I will stop by, and not on my own authority. My fingers move over the keys and hit send.

My dad’s friend wants to take me to dinner at Pesto’s tonight, so lucky you, you get to see me sooner than you think.

Her reply never comes through. After a while, I leave the coffee shop and head to Pesto’s.

I walk into the restaurant and the pungent smell of garlic fills the air. There are white linen tables and a beautiful décor, including Italian paintings on the walls by the entrance. I make my way over to the hostess stand, where the young redhead says hello and asks how many are in our party.

I say I’m meeting someone and tell her the name. She checks her sheet.

“Oh, yes. Mr. Roberts is already here.” I follow the hostess further into the restaurant. Glancing around, I search for the special blonde who fills up space in my mind.

I spot her talking to Mr. Roberts. As I walk up behind her, she turns. The look of shock is clear on her face as she smiles. Mr. Roberts stands up and offers me his hand. I shake it and smile at him.

“Trace Weston, so good to see you,” he says, pointing to the seat across from him.

“Thank you, Mr. Roberts.” I turn to Vanessa. “Hey, how are you?”

Mr. Roberts watches the exchange of nervousness between us and laughs. I introduce the two of them, and he shakes her hand.

“Are you and Trace dating?” he asks, bobbing his eyes up and down her body.

Caught off guard, she smiles, obviously unsure how to answer.

“Absolutely we’re dating,” I say with a wide smile.

She giggles in the sweetest way as she asks for our order.

After we place our food order, Mr. Roberts talks to me about his plans for the summer.

“I’m excited to have you interning for me,” he says, taking a sip of his soda.

“So am I, Sir.” I learned at an early age to call my father’s business associates “sir.”

“Are you and this waitress serious?”

“Wouldn’t say that. We just started dating,” I say, grabbing a roll and breaking it in half. With my knife, I spread butter across it and pop it into my mouth.

Vanessa appears with our food and places our dishes in front of us. The carbonara on my plate smells inviting, and I smile at her.

“Thank you, Vanessa. This looks great.”

“Is there anything else you need?” she asks.

“I’m good.” I look to Mr. Roberts as he agrees.

Vanessa leaves to tend to her other tables while Mr. Roberts and I dig into our food.

He goes into details about what I’ll be doing for him this summer and everything he expects. I have to say I’m disappointed. I won’t have much time for anything else, and my mind flashes to Vanessa. We change the subject to how Vanessa and I met. He loves the stories of her at the beach.

We finish our meal, and Roberts pays the check. Our goodbyes are said, and I hang around the front door to say goodnight to Vanessa.

From across the room, she smiles at me before she walks over, looking sexy as hell in her uniform. Her white blouse is buttoned up to her neck and tucked into her black pants. She wears a bold pink tie that matches her eye makeup; her dangling silver earrings sway as she walks. As she approaches me, I suck in a deep breath.

“Hey, thanks for coming in tonight,” she says, grinning wildly.

“I’d come in every night if you wouldn’t think that weird,” I say, winking at her.

“Have a good night.” She winks back.

“Do you have a ride home?” I ask, concerned for her safety.

“Yes, my friend Kristine is taking me home.”

The thought of her staying at that house does not sit well with me, but Maxine’s father installed a new system today, so they should be safe. I rub my finger down her jaw and turn my lip up into a half grin.

“Call me when you get home?”

“Sure,” she says, quivering under my touch.

I drop my hand from her face and miss the feel of her.

The humidity hits me as I walk outside. A little red pickup truck is parked in the back of the lot, and I watch as it speeds away.

Jordan. I swear it’s him, with his short blond hair, watching me as he drives off. I pull my keys out and click the lock, opening the Cobra door. He sped away so fast, I have no chance of catching him.

Halfway home, my phone rings.

“Hello, Trace,” my father’s voice booms.

“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

“I just got off the phone with Roberts. How did your meeting go?”

“Went great,” I say, trying my best to sound enthused.

“Great. Stop by my office tomorrow,” he demands.

“Okay, sure thing.”

I pull up to my house and lock the car. When I go inside, Craig, Darren, and Tony are sitting in the living room, playing video games. I say my hellos and join in.

After a few hours of playing and laughing with the boys, we shut off the games.

“Hot date tonight, Trace?” Craig laughs.

I want to punch him, but I sulk in my seat instead. “That’s none of your business,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Well, you have a month to seal the deal.” He laughs.

“That wasn’t the bet,” I say, turning to Tony for reassurance on the actual bet.

“A vanilla relationship,” Tony confirms, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen. He yells from the refrigerator, asking if anyone wants a beer.

We all answer yes, and Tony returns, handing us each a bottle. I pop the top to mine and look at Craig. “So the deal is not to sleep with her but to date her, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, but she’s hot, and knowing how you are, I’m sure it will happen,” Darren says, popping his beer open and taking a long drink.

I anger at the direction of the conversation. “Oh yeah, knowing how I am? And how’s that?” I ask Craig.

They laugh, and Tony leans in closer. “Are you serious?” he asks.

“What?”

“Dude, you have a different chick every night,” he answers.

“That’s not true.” I don’t have sex every night; maybe every other.

“Whatever. So have you slept with her yet?” Craig looks at Tony as they laugh.

“Screw you guys.”

“That’s a no,” Darren says, finishing his beer in one giant gulp.

“Look, if I sleep with her now, how am I supposed to carry this thing on for a month?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair. I get more and more irritated as the conversation continues.

I wasn’t the one who thought up this crazy lame-ass bet, and I didn’t think I’d be getting shit for it the whole month.

“So, who do you think broke into their house?” Darren asks, getting up to grab another beer.

Craig calls to him and asks for another one. Darren returns and waits for an answer.

“If I had to guess, I’d say that little jackass Jordan. I saw him tonight at her restaurant, watching her. Well, at least I think it was him.”

“No shit,” Tony says, running his fingers across his face. “There’s something about that little shit I don’t like.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” I say, clanking my bottle to Tony’s in a cheers against Jordan.

“So, are you gonna tell Vanessa about it?” Craig asks.

I don’t know if I want to tell her or if I should wait. I don’t want to accuse Jordan yet, but I can investigate on my own.

“So, what are you guys doing tonight?” I ask them.

“Titty bar,” Darren says, laughing as he and Craig high-five. “Wanna come with?”

“You guys are morons. Why throw money at naked women who won’t sleep with you? Waste of money, if you ask me.” I look at Tony as he pulls out his phone, presses a few numbers, and then puts it back in his pocket.

“Suit yourself. I know you have to be horny as hell.” Craig laughs.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” I say.

“Just thought you’d need some sex by now,” Craig says. Everyone laughs at our conversation except Tony. He’s distracted with his phone and walks off to his room.

“I’m fine.” I am hard up: hard up for Vanessa.

“All right, I’m heading to my room. Have fun,” I say, getting up from the chair.

They say their goodbyes as they file out of the house. Tony passes by in the hallway. “You really haven’t slept with her?” he asks.

“Have fun tonight,” I say, avoiding his question.

As I lie in bed, Vanessa invades my thoughts. My friends were right when they said I was hard up. I’ve been in a semi-hard state ever since I met her. Thinking about her amplifies my state of arousal. The phone rings, and I answer it before it rings a second time.

“Hello,” I say, wishing she were here.

“Hi, there. Just got home,” Vanessa coos.

I lie here imagining her in the pink pajamas, and my cock tightens. Then I remember: her bed was ruined.

“So how is the house?” I ask, positioning myself higher on the bed, the phone pressed against my ear.

“It’s fine. Maxine’s father had bought a new mattress today and had it delivered. It was so nice of him. He told us if anything happens to call him.”

“That’s good.” I’m relieved they have someone to look out for them.

“Yeah, Maxine is here tonight too. I feel better, knowing I’m not alone in the house,” she whispers.

I love the way her voice sounds over the phone but wish she were here with me instead.

“I wish you were here.”

She sucks in a breath. Her tone drops an octave to a sexy phone-operator voice, and I harden instantly.

“Me, too.”

“Come over,” I beg.

“No car remember?”

“I’ll pick you up,” I say, frantically. If she says yes, I’ll rush there.

She purrs the perfect sound of heaven and earth, and it makes me grab ahold of my hardness.

“Trace, we’re taking it slow, right?” she murmurs into the phone.

“Right, but God, you sound so sexy.”

“I do?”

“Fuck yeah.” I breathe and run a hand up and down my hard length.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispers.

“Anything.”

“Are you in bed?”

“Yes.” I rub harder as she sighs into the phone, a celestial sound that makes me want to take back everything I’ve said about taking it slow.

“So am I.” She sounds nervous, and I get excited about what I hope is coming next. I take her shyness as an invitation to initiate this. She wants me to take control, which makes me want this more.

“What are you doing?” I ask her. The phone grows hot but not as hot as my body becomes. I picture her in bed, running her fingers over herself.

“Lying here. What are you doing?” Her voice is so low, I can tell she wants this. I can tell her body is burning with desire.

“Running my hands along myself, wishing it was you,” I say, praying she continues and doesn’t hang up. The phone shifts from my ear, and I grip tighter.

“Me, too.”

“Touch yourself and pretend it’s me,” I say, fearing she will put the brakes on this topic.

“I am,” she whispers. The need and want in her voice engulf me.

“Picture me deep inside you.”

“Oh, Trace. I wish I was there,” she begs.

“I’ll come pick you up.”

“No, I can’t wait that long.” I hear her erratic breaths and wish I could watch her.

“Are you wet for me?” I moan.

“Yes. Trace, tell me what you’d do to me…” Every time I hear her say my name, my heart beats double-time.

I growl into the heated phone, “I’d touch you. I’d feel you. I’d make sweet love to you.”

She’s breathless as she pants my name again, and I grit my teeth together.

“I want you to touch me.” Her shyness is adorable, and I decide I need to take charge.

“With my fingers? With my tongue? With my hard cock?” I ask, stroking and pumping my own shaft.

Her orgasm is imminent, and I rub the tip of my dick. She moans and groans into the line, and I continue, “Do you want my tongue deep inside you?”

She is panting my name, and I smile that I control her pending release.

“Do you want me to lick you all over?” I ask.

She is breathing hard, and it turns me on. I growl into the phone to hold on a while longer. I picture her on the bed, making herself come to my voice.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” I beg her.

“I want you to fuck me,” she pleads, moaning my name over and over.

My pleasure doubles when she says this. I love hearing my name from her lips.

Grabbing myself harder, I listen to her release and within seconds, I join in pure ecstasy. The sound of her orgasm is pure music to my ears, and I need to hear it in person. God, I need to hear it while I pump myself deep inside her.

We continue talking, and it baffles me how much we have in common. Movies, TV shows, and music—we enjoy so many of the same things. Returning our attention to who can be behind everything, I ask, “What type of car does Jordan drive?” Was it him I saw leaving Pesto’s tonight?

“A red pickup truck.”

“I think I saw him tonight at your work.”

“Where? He never came inside the restaurant.”

“He was driving away when I left.”

“Hmm. Are you sure it was him?” she asks.

“No, I guess not. It was, however, a red pickup. How did you two meet?”

“We met at school last semester. We were in the same class. He became a friend when we studied together after we’d both failed the first test.”

“Do you think he would do this?”

“I don’t know what anyone is capable of anymore.” There is a quiver in her voice that makes me want to hold her, protect her.

It was Jordan, it had to be. I will get to the bottom of this. I have to.

Lying on my bed, I hang up with Vanessa and wonder, who would do this to her, and why? Is it Jordan?

The next afternoon, I head to my father’s office downtown. I pull into the parking lot of the building my father owns. With a slam of the door, I make my way inside.

The bustling secretary behind the counter smiles. “Hi, Trace. Go on up. Your father is expecting you,” she says.

“Thanks, Laura.” I smile.

She is older but not by much, and she wants me—I can tell.

The elevator doors close, and I ride it to the top floor and exit, walking straight ahead to knock on his door.

“Come in!” he shouts.

I step inside. The view from the window overlooks the waterway and all the boats along the marina.

I step closer and look down at the familiar white-and-blue boat my father owns. “Hey, you can see the boat from here!” I laugh.

“Sure can. Listen, take a seat, son.” He motions to a chair across from him.

I step away from the window and head to the chair. Sitting, I smile at my father. “So what’s up?”

“I asked you here because I want to make sure you understand how important this summer internship is.”

“Yes, Sir.” I nod.

“Roberts has a wealth of information, and I want you to absorb everything he teaches you.” My father shakes a berating finger at me.

He owns one of the biggest consulting firms in South Florida. All the top business owners in the world praise him. Top magazines and newspapers herald him, which has made him a bright pillar of the community. Status and position mean everything to him, and he never wavers.

I squirm in the chair and try to sit straighter. His shoulders square behind the oak desk, in no mood to hear my thoughts about what I’d rather do with my summer. I clear my throat, run my hands through my thick hair, and look at him. “Yes, Sir.” I can’t say anything else in his presence. He intimidates me.

“He is a smart guy, Trace. This summer will be good for you.” His phone rings, and he grabs it with one hand.

“Mr. Weston,” he booms into the phone.

I stare out the window as he barks orders to someone over the line. My thoughts turn to Vanessa. For this evening, I’m letting her pick the activity of her choice. I wonder where she is taking me.

My father slams the phone and directs his eyes back. I sink further in the plush leather seat.

“Now, Roberts mentioned something about your having a girlfriend.” He runs his hand over his bold red tie.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” I don’t want to hash out the details of why I date Vanessa—my father won’t understand.

He gives me a brooding stare and raises an eyebrow.

“Anything else you need of me?” I rise from the chair, and my father half-smiles at me.

He stands up, towering over me by at least a foot, and extends his hand. I grip it and shake.

“No, Trace. I’ll see you soon.”

I head towards the door when he calls for me.

“One more thing. Why don’t you bring this new girl to brunch next Sunday at the club? It’s not every day you bring a girl on the boat, so I’m sure it has to be more serious than you are letting onto. Besides, I’m sure your mother will like to meet her.” His eyes sparkle as he attempts a smile.

“Sure thing.” I all but rush out the door.

Shit, I don’t want to take her to the club, especially not to meet my parents.