My parents are here.

For a graduation.

That isn’t happening.

“What do you mean, Gracie?” My dad shakes his head, pacing my apartment. The apartment he pays for.

“I told you not to come. The graduation isn’t happening. My professor is crazy and taking it out on me.”

“I don’t understand,” Mom says. “You failed one assignment and you don’t graduate?”

I groan. “It was the only assignment that mattered. She said my research was spot on … but that it lacked “heart” … how can you grade a paper on its emotion?”

I’m a mess over it.

An embarrassed, mortified mess.

She straight up flunked me because I failed to add personal analysis to the research.

“And your advisor, she says you can resubmit the paper and then she’ll pass you?”

“Yes, but she also told me three months ago to add research. Which is what I did.”

“So what is the problem?” Dad asks. “Fix the paper. Failing isn’t an option.”

I throw my arms in the air. “It’s not that easy! I can’t write it. I don’t know what she even expects from me.”

It’s not true though. I know what she wants. She wants me to add commentary to my research … but the only commentary I have to give is personal.

Too personal.

Kinky List personal.

“But you’ve never failed at anything, Gracie,” my dad days. “I don’t understand.”

Just then there’s knock at my door.

Grateful for a distraction, I walk away from a conversation that will soon implode.

“Hey, Gracie,” Cooper says, smiling. He has been crisscrossing the nation lighting up the scorecard.

I may not have seen him in a long time, but it doesn’t feel that way. I’ve been watching every game on TV. The Yankees are in first place and Cooper is an early-season MVP candidate.

We’ve texted a few times while I was in Connecticut. And thankfully the tension between us dissipated after our night with Rolo and Kittycat.

Still, I haven’t seen him in a month, and when he wraps me in a tight hug, I sink into him.

I haven’t kissed him since ... Valentine’s Day.

When we started our Kinky List, I thought our lips would be locking a lot more often.

“Gracie, who’s there?” my mom calls, walking toward the door.

“It’s my neighbor, Cooper.”

“The Cooper Bentley?” my dad asks.

“The one and only,” I grimace.

Cooper, being a normal everyday guy from middle America, walks right into my war zone and shakes my parents’ hands, smiling warmly.

“Gracie said you were her neighbor,” my mom gushes, unabashedly scanning Cooper from head to toe. Like mother, like daughter. “But I didn't realize you were friends.”

“She didn’t?” Cooper frowns. “Your daughter is my saving Gracie.”

I furrow my brows, having never heard him say that about me, or even understand what he is referencing. But my parents seem to like the line because they smile, no longer scowling at me for being a dropout.

When Cooper sits in the living room, answering all my dad’s questions, I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab drinks. White wine for mom and me, beers for the men. I set them on a tray, add spiced almonds to a dish, and throw some grapes in a bowl.

Then I remember to breathe.

“Wait, what?” Cooper looks up at me as I walk back into the living room. “You aren’t graduating?”

I shake my head, setting the tray on the coffee table. “Apparently my research paper sucked. I messed up.”

“Gracie,” Cooper says, concerned. “You never mentioned any of that to me.”

“Join the club,” Mom says, her irritation from earlier is back.

I pass out drinks, and avoid the gazes, wondering why we aren’t discussing the Yankees amazing season. Isn’t that more interesting than my degree?

“Gracie, I don’t understand, you don’t want to rewrite it?” Coop asks. “You’re the most driven person I’ve ever met.”

I shrug. My face hot. What does he want me to say? In this moment the last thing I want to do is rewrite that damn paper. Seeing him, here, in my apartment, there is only one thing in the world I want to focus on.

All I want right now is to forget about school and focus on Cooper. That would be a hell of a lot less stressful than this conversation, that’s for sure.

Of course, I can’t say that to my parents. Or to Cooper.

It would make me sound like a crazy lady who is obsessed with the hottie next door. The hottie half of the women in America are obsessed with.

But after having a taste of Cooper, and then going cold turkey for three months my vagina is screaming so loudly I can hardly hear my own voice.

My parents exchange a look with Cooper as if the three of them have been in cahoots for years.

“Gracie, can I talk to you for a sec?” Cooper asks, setting down his beer.

“Uh. Sure.” I stand and follow him out of the apartment, through the hall, and into his apartment.

I haven’t been here since he locked me to his headboard and licked me up and down.

I blink.

“Gracie, what aren’t you saying?”

“Uh,” I start, then shake my head. I already feel like a freaking disaster. A failure.

“Look, you don’t owe me anything, Gracie. But I can’t watch you make a mess of things without saying something.”

“A mess of things? It’s just graduation. I’ll figure out the paper eventually. Just not today.”

Cooper narrows his eyes. “And the drinking. And all the guys.”

I scrunch up my nose. “Guys?”

“Yeah, like Stephen and Drake, and who knows who else.”

I pull back, totally annoyed. “There is no one else. Stephen and Drake are a couple and I’m not dating anyone. Okay, does that make you happy?”

“Happy? I mean....” Cooper shakes his head, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh my god, you are happy. What? You like the fact no one else wants to be with me?” I roll my eyes. “Cooper, that sucks. I deserve to be happy too, to have fun too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I throw my arms up, hating that Cooper brings out the best and worst in me. All of me. I hate that I want him to know why this year has sucked – because of him.

Because of not having him, not fully.

“It means you’re gallivanting across the country, doing God knows what with who knows what and I’m not.” I cover my face with my hands, hating that I’ve just admitted so much. Too much.

Tears fall down my cheeks, and I wipe them away. Not wanting to fall apart in front of Cooper Bentley.

“Shh, Gracie,” he says, pulling me into a hug. “Don’t cry.” His arms wrap around me as if knowing what it means to hold me and I want to stay here, tucked in a safe place. “You’re going to be okay, girl.”

I try and stifle a sob, a sob I’d held back from my parents and Bridget. But it’s no use. My tears flow freely and my face presses against Cooper’s chest.

“I can’t believe I’m not graduating.”

“It’s okay. It’s one loss, you have a lot of game left in you, Gracie.”

“I don’t know if my life is the same as a baseball season. I’ve never failed like this.”

“Sure it is,” he says, kissing my forehead. “Everything makes more sense with baseball. I promise.”

“How so?”

He looks down at me. “You know how I have a .300 batting average?”

“Yeah?” I don’t follow.

“I still miss seven out of ten times.”

“Which means?”

He kisses my forehead. “Which means failing doesn’t mean anything when you’re willing to walk back out to home plate and take another swing.”

I wrap my arms around his waist. He smells so good, even though he’s been traveling all day. He smells like worn leather gloves and green grass and fresh air.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” His heart is beating fast, and I don’t think he’d have said this if we were looking deeply into one another’s eyes.

“No,” I say immediately.

He pulls back, cupping my face with his warm hands. “Gracie,” he smiles playfully, and relief washes over me. Maybe he doesn’t realize how true his question is.

“Our list is taking a long time to complete,” he tells me.

“Too long?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I’ve got bad news.”

My brows knit together. “What?”

“I thought maybe we could check another item off the list tonight... I’m home, you’re home, I thought we could celebrate graduation.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He shakes his head again. “Nope. Not until the paper is done.”

I pout, reflexively. I want to check off another Kinky item, and I want to do it now. What better way to forget about my failure than to get filthy dirty with Cooper?

“The paper could take two or three months to rewrite.”

“So, what do you have planned this summer, Martha’s Vineyard? The Cape-whatever?”

I twist my lips, and Cooper smooths back my hair, still holding me close. The truth is, I was going to spend the summer at Martha’s Vineyard. Boating. Sun Bathing. Reading. Swimming. Bliss.

“You're saying you won’t do another kinky thing with me until I turn this paper in? I have an extension until December.”

“Your call. Take the summer off and work on the paper this fall. Or....”

“Or buck up and do it this summer so we can do numbers five, six, and seven,” I finish.

“Yep. Your call.”

“Okay,” I tell him as he uses his thumb to wipe away my tears. “Okay, I’ll go into a writing cave and do this. I’ll take another swing.”

“Wow,” Cooper says, smiling. “You must really miss my cock.”

I laugh, wondering how he is making such a shitty situation feel bearable.

“I do miss your cock, Cooper. But right now,” I admit. “I was missing your lips more.”

“Then let me leave you with this.”

He presses his lips to mine, softly at first, then our mouths part, and he holds me at the base of my neck letting the kiss deepen. Our longing solidified.

He kisses me and I remember and I forget. He kisses me and I kiss him back.

When he pulls away, he does so slowly, blowing hot air in my ear, and whispering, “Next time, I won’t just kiss you.”

I leave, determined to come back.