We didn’t get charged with a misdemeanor but I might as well have been hit with a felony. Regardless, after that night in the alley, my life would never be the same.

And not just because I lost my V-card.

The police let us go after Cooper promised them box seats to some home games. It should have pissed me off, watching these grown men look the other way at our crime for the love of the game, but I couldn’t even justify annoyance.

The penalty for a misdemeanor could be a year in jail. Jail. For sex in a public place.

Though, to be honest, part of me thinks it might have been worth it even if I had gotten locked up.

My back against the wall, my body bare, his hands on me like he couldn’t get enough... any insecurity I may have felt for being so inexperienced next to him vanished the moment he filled me with his cock.

In all fairness, the cops didn’t see us until after we screwed, and by the time they walked down the alley, Cooper had his pants pulled up, buckled. Assembled. His jacket wrapped tightly around me as we explained the incident at the restaurant.

“You need to get your girl home, Bentley,” the officer said. Cooper nodded in agreement and hailed us a cab.

The ride to our apartment building was silent. In the space of him parting my legs and pressing himself inside me, I had lost all rational thought. All I could think was that felt so fucking good.

The next day Cooper left for spring training and I knew that I needed to seriously focus on school.

The Kinky List had messed with my mind and I needed to keep my plans in check.

In my advisor’s office, Professor MacKernly frowns, looking at my printed pages. “There’s not enough research here. Talking in circles about Sylvia Plath doesn’t equate to anything substantive.”

“The topic is the problem,” I try to explain. “I’m a women’s study major because I want to advocate for women. So I can work with legislatures and make real change. This paper means nothing to me.”

“It’s the assignment though, Grace.”

“I understand,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “It just seems so arbitrary.”

“Women’s sexuality plays a huge part in gender politics. It’s something you need to really understand in order to advocate effectively.”

I swallow my tears. I’ve literally never had a teacher tell me my work was shitty. It’s always been so easy to ace my assignments.

“I’ll put my nose to the grindstone, Professor, I promise,” I say emphatically. Even though the only grinding I want happening is between Cooper and me. But I know I won’t be getting that anytime soon. He’s in Tampa until next month.

Still, I know what I am going to get, soon enough. Long-distance be damned.

This weekend Cooper and I have a phone date. And we are going to cross a third item off the Kinky List.

* * *

“I just don’t get why you won’t come out with me,” Bridget moans. She’s in my apartment, drinking my wine, with some guy named Xavier who I’ve never met before.

“I’m busy. Okay?”

“You’re not busy. You’re just not the same. I don’t know what’s happened, but seriously, Gracie. You’re like a complete shell of who you once were.”

“I am not,” I say, aggressively taking her glass of Pinot Grigio and taking a long sip. “Besides I really need to work on my paper. My prof thinks what I have so far is shit.”

“Your entire life can’t be school.”

“It isn’t. I’ve been reading a lot too. For pleasure.”

Bridget scowls. “I know you like to alternate between reading your Kindle and doing school work, but I swear you haven’t left your apartment in weeks for anything but class. I mean... I’m worried about you.”

I lower a brow. “Seriously? You’re so worried, you and Xavier decided to swing by my apartment and randomly ask if I wanted to hang out?” I glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes until I need them out of here.

“Whoa, my spicy enchilada,” Xavier says to me wagging a finger. “Bridget is very worried about her senorita. She wants you to come to the house bar, and so do I. Just put on a dress and come, you little salsa verde.”

“House bar?” I shake my head confused. At the house bar reference, but also at Xavier’s bizarre fetish with Mexican food.

“Yes, a house bar in Brooklyn,” Bridget says, exasperated. “It’s the thing now. No one wants to go out to shitty bars anymore so people open their own bars. In their walk-ups. It’s super fun.”

“So... it’s just a party. People are having parties.” I clarify, “In their apartments.”

Xavier shakes his head. “No, my crunchy taco, not a party. House bar. Much classier.”

“Sounds super fun, but like I said. I have plans.”

“With who?” Bridget asks again. When I don’t answer, she flings her arms in the air, exasperated, and grabs her purse. “This is such bullshit. Are you just like, breaking up with me? Is that what this is?”

“I’m not breaking up with you. I just don’t want to go out.”

How am I supposed to explain that for the past month when I haven’t been working on my paper, I’ve been reading every single steamy romance novel I could download to get... comfortable.

I need to know how things work down there. As a teenager, I never got on the masturbating-train. As a co-ed, I never had time for “self-care”... all I cared about were 4.0’s. It never felt relevant to grab some triple A’s and a rabbit and get down and dirty.

Mostly because I’d never had a legit orgasm until I met Cooper.

I had no idea what I could be experiencing. Now that I do? I pretty much want to practice every day. Or honestly, more often than that. Because oh my God ... getting off is nearly as good as people say.

I no longer judge the horn-dog teenage boys in American Pie. If I could press my pussy in a freshly baked pastry, knowing it would feel like Cooper’s cock inside of me, you better believe I’d be rolling out crusts 24/7.

“I’m sorry. I just want to be alone tonight.”

She scoffs in disgust. “I don’t know what’s happened to you.”

“For years, I’ve always done anything you wanted. Remember that party you dragged me to on New Year’s?”

“Why are still you throwing that in my face? I wanted to go to a sex club. I thought you’d think it was both exciting and hilarious. Instead, your takeaway is that I’m a selfish brat for trying to give you a memorable New Years. But Gracie – it’s March. It’s time you moved on.”

I blink back tears, hating that I’ve upset her so much.

She grabs Xavier’s hand and pulls him to the door. “And you know what,” she adds. “I think it’s time I moved on too. I’m over this, Gracie. Don’t call me unless you want to be an actual friend instead of this self-obsessed whatever.”

She storms out the door. I burst into tears.

I look at the clock.

Two minutes until Cooper is set to call.