Autumn crashes down over Moon Ridge full throttle, spilling fat maples and oak leaves in every hue of crimson. The sky is a spooky shade of lavender, and everywhere you look pumpkins dot the landscape. It’s a magical season in a magical town. You can count Leland University in on that wizardry. Rowen walked me back to my room last night. Of course, it was dark. The student population wasn’t exactly bustling. Vi was at a study group, and Em was nowhere to be found, so I thought I’d break my relationship status update to them this morning over pumpkin spiced lattes and a couple of cranberry scones, the way such announcements should always be done.

I’m early, so I pick up my drink and confection and scoot to the back where we usually congregate. I’ve been walking on air ever since last night. I’ve never actually had a boyfriend before, let alone a clandestine relationship that I’m pretty sure I’ll want to keep from Braden forever. Not to mention—

“Becca?” My eyes widen with fright, and I nearly spill hot coffee down the front of my jeans. I swallow hard, trying to sidestep around the blonde glamazon that my brother is currently dating. But let’s face it—she’s been on my mind almost as much as Rowen was last night. What would Becca think of Rowen and me together?

Her dark eyes blink to life. She’s bundled in an expensive looking suede coat with an adorable knit cap and fur-lined boots. Becca is always impeccably dressed no matter what the occasion. “Funny, I was just about to call you.” She pulls me down to the nearest table and forces me into a seat.

“Hello to you, too.” If Becca and I were close, and she didn’t have a sexual history with my newly minted boyfriend, I might have indulged her with the giddy details regarding Rowen and me. I mean, it’s not like I’d lie to her face if confronted with the facts, but still, I’m not asking her whether he likes to have his balls scratched or licked—not that I plan on doing either. The topic of Rowen’s coin purse is strictly off-limits.

“Is this about my dad’s fiftieth?” I give a quick glance over my shoulder in the event Vi and Ember happen to stumble in giggling out Rowen’s name like a pair of horny hyenas. They would be mimicking me, of course, but that’s beside the point.

“No, actually”—she whips out her phone and points the screen my way—“it’s about this.”

Staring me in the face is a picture of myself at the mixer last Saturday night in my little black dress, cute as can be skyscraper heels, but I’m guessing the fashionista in front of me isn’t as interested in the way I’ve paired my outfit with my sexy stilettos as she is the boy who has his hand tucked in the small of my back.

Whoever snapped that picture is a bastard—and I’m an idiot for thinking it couldn’t happen. But Rowen and I were once friends. Who’s to say we couldn’t bump into one another at a mixer?

I lean back in my seat and meet up with the fury in Becca’s eyes. She probably feels just as betrayed as Braden would if he knew. God—Braden!

“That was nothing.” I try to force a laugh, but it comes out more of a whimper. “I bumped into him at—”

“Save it.” She averts her eyes to the ceiling. “I know for a fact the two of you were walking around some party.”

Some party? So, she doesn’t have all the Dexter-based dirty little details?

“I did bump into him. I tried to ignore him, but he insisted on playing the part of a perfect little gentleman.” I’m guessing there’s nothing little about Rowen, judging by the way his package keeps settling between us like a pug. Wait—did I just liken Rowen’s man parts to a dog that technically belongs to the toy family? So not right.

Becca huffs at the thought, and I can’t tell whether or not she’s agreeing with me. She tosses her phone into her purse, scowling at me a moment. “I get it. He’s just trying to be friendly with you. I mean, he was practically your older brother.”

The memory of his tongue roving in my mouth like he was trying to teach it a lesson—in a show of force of penile things to come—washes through me.

“Right. Older brother.” I clear my throat. “Anyway, I couldn’t shake him for about fifteen minutes, but I kept trying. I spoke to every guy there, hoping he’d get the hint that I was a very busy girl.” I shudder because I can’t stand the thought of lying right to her face just after I professed it would be an impossible feat. “But please don’t tell Braden. That might actually kill him.”

“No way.” Her eyes widen a notch as she secures her purse to her shoulder. “That’s why I brought it to you first.” She squints over at me in a peculiar way as if she were appraising me in a new light. “I mean, it’s not like the two of you would ever be anything more than friends. You’ll always be Braden’s kid sister to Rowen. Besides, Ro’s not into your type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m not sure why I’m suddenly affronted, but Bimbo Barbie here has about five seconds flat to pony up a reason why Ro wouldn’t be interested.

“You know.” She wrinkles her nose while glancing at my hair. “You’re just not his type, that’s all. And be glad. He’s a master manipulator. God, if he ever did try anything with you, run.” She waves her hand at the idea dismissively. “God knows he’d only be trying to get back at your brother.” Becca hops up and touches a finger to my nose. “Looks like my work here is done.” She gives a little wink before flying out the door.

A familiar pair of bodies crop up in her place.

“Hello?” Vi and Ember take the seats in front of me before Becca’s chair has the chance to cool. “That looked pretty intense.”

“It was nothing.” I wrap my arms around my shoulders in an effort to comfort myself from the verbal assault.

Ember ticks her head to the side, and her blonde curls spill like milk over her back. “Well? What’s the big news? Judging by your irresponsible abuse of emojis, you sounded pretty psyched.”

“I was psyched up until a minute ago.” I start in slow about where I left things off with Rowen last night. About how much I’m looking forward to our date on Saturday. Between practice and the game, it’s literally the only night that works for us, and coincidentally, the only night that works for the TSE.

“Oh my God!” Vi slaps her hand over the table with such violent force our cups dance to the left. “This is getting serious.” Her eyes water as if it were her own heart on the line. “You’re not going to sleep with him—are you?” She leans in, shocked as if she just asked if I was about to conduct a bank heist with him.

“No.” I slouch in my seat. “Yes,” I whimper out the confession. “Hell yes. This isn’t some random guy I’m meeting for the first time. This is—” I look to Ember for help.

“Oh my gosh, you think you love him, don’t you?” She looks incredulous at the thought.

“Well—I…” I do love Rowen, but I’m terrified to admit to it because according to their collective expression this could lead to disastrous things. God knows Rowen and I have been through enough disastrous things already. “This can work,” I offer with no real details to back this up.

“Wow.” Ember marvels. “I’ll be honest, I really didn’t have all that much faith in this whole social experiment thing.”

“This has nothing to do with any social experimentation,” Vi is quick to defend me. “It’s clear these are latent childhood feelings combined with her hypersexual hormones driving them to home plate. In other words, she’s not in her right mind.”

“Gee, thanks.” Suddenly, I’m regretting this little precoital powwow. “And I might sleep with him, only because I’m a lemming and I need to see for myself what drove all of you others off the cliff.”

Vi closes her eyes and gives a depleted sigh. It’s as if that were the last straw and she’s giving up on me.

“I have something to tell you guys.” She glances to the exit as if expecting someone. “I may have told you both a teeny tiny fib when we first met, but only because I’ve never really waved this banner before and I didn’t know what you’d think of me.”

God, she’s into girls. I’m going to have to rethink that whole nude in the morning routine that she swears she doesn’t have a problem with, and now I know why.

“I slept with Lane.”

Never mind.

“When? Was this in our room? On my bed?” I can feel the bile creeping up in the back of my throat at the thought of Vi and her ex rutting freely over my sheets. God, I’m going to need to get updated on all of my vaccinations because of this. It’s clear her ex is a dirty dog.

“No.” She flaps her hands like a fish. “It was years ago—plenty of times. I told you I was a virgin because—well, I didn’t expect an inquiry as to my vaginal standing in the first five minutes we met.”

It’s true. Ember totally used that as an icebreaker on move-in day. She conducted a rather spontaneous yet thorough pop quiz of our sexual knowledge and neither of us wanted to cop to anything. Not that there was anything to cop to on my part.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” She sniffs to the two of us, doing her best impression of a lost puppy.

“There’s nothing to forgive. We knew you for a hot minute.” I glance to Em. “Not all of us are comfortable laying out our most personal details like we were answering some magazine quiz. No offense.”

“None taken.” Ember takes a sip from her coffee before coming up for air. “But now that we’ve pushed past that hot minute, once you hide the snake in the bush I want a full report. This is Rowen Garret we’re talking about.” She says that last part lower than a whisper, and good thing because I’d hate to launch a perfectly good pumpkin spiced latte in her direction.

“No problem.” I shrug at the thought. “I’m sure if and when he butters my muffin you’ll be the first to know all of the icky sticky details.” I nod to Vi as if to silently ask her to fill me in on a few icky sticky details of her own later.

I’ll let Rowen take things as far as he’d like with me. None of this feels real anyway. It can’t be.

Becca was right.

I’m not Rowen’s type.

* * *

Saturday afternoon, after I’ve scalded myself in the shower, shaved every pit and bush alike, washed, dried, and styled my hair for the big cherry popping festival, I get a text from my father.

On campus! Just helped Braden bolt his headboard to the wall. You up for a quick bite?

Gah! The last thing on the planet a girl wants on the day she’s determined to lure her new boyfriend to the mattress is a sit-down with dear old Dad. First of all, I’m going to get an image of his grinning face stuck in my head, and that will greatly reduce my desire to fall on my knees and worship at the altar of Rowen Garret the way I’ve fantasized about for the last ten years. And if that does happen, I will let out a primal scream, and it WILL NOT be from ecstasy! Secondly, if he asks what my plans are for the evening, I’ll be forced to espouse another lie, and, as it stands, my nose is heading toward California without me. Before my mother died, she made me promise that I would keep a clean line of communication with my father because he had the responsibility of being both parents. Now that I had lost my ability to leverage one parent against the other, she knew I’d probably stoop to deception to get my way, so she was determined to put the kibosh on that lyin’, cheatin’ good time before it ever got started.

After twenty minutes straight of begging Vi to join me, she skips off to the gym, but swears she can’t wait to meet my father at his big birthday bash.

My father sure picked a lousy day to shield Braden’s neighbors from his incessant fucking. And the thought of Becca bedding both Rowen and Braden makes me more than slightly nauseous. What was she thinking? What was my brother thinking scooping up sloppy seconds?

I head over to meet Dad by the oversized bronzed statue of our mascot, a sleek looking cougar ready for the kill. There he is, wearing his signature glad-to-see-me grin that will be haunting me for the rest of the evening.

“Daddy!” I wrap my arms around him, and he gives me a little twirl. He’s taller than me by a foot and wears his quickly graying hair sprayed into a stiff quasi-pompadour. He’s pretty fit. And even a few of my own friends through the years have commented on what a looker he is. The term they used was hot, but I refuse to entertain the idea. Therefore, I invoke the rather dated adage my grandmother used to use—Dads are allowed to be lookers; they are never allowed to be hot. At least as far as your own father is concerned. I don’t see him that way, though. He’s always been this asexual being who is more akin to my favorite stuffed animal than he is an annoying human. “Where do you want to eat?” Thoughts of walking my father across the street to the Underground have me cringing. Not only do we run the risk of seeing Rowen, but I run the risk of being labeled as the chick who’s dating an old guy. Not many people have been able to connect the paternal dots because, gray hair aside, Dad looks too damn young for his own age.

“I’m easy. How about the cafeteria?”

“Dad, Leland got rid of the caf about ten years ago. It’s since been replaced with about a dozen fast-food restaurants and a mini mart that serves boxed sushi. The coffee shop has a mean bistro turkey sandwich, though. How does that sound?”

“Like you’re living pretty high on the hog.” He drops a quick kiss to the top of my head. “Glad to know you’ve been spared the gruel.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulder as I navigate us toward Coffeeology. We each order a half a sandwich and take a seat near the window.

“So, what’s new?” I check my phone in the event I venture into the red zone. I figure if we get within a half hour of my date with Rowen then it’s DEFCON 1, and I need to start rethinking that whole deception thing. I’m not afraid of getting technical if I have to. Because technically, Dexter Houston’s social experiment can be viewed as a school project, and I know for a fact my father would be remiss to let me skip out on anything he might be doling out the big bucks for. I may have scored a few measly scholarships, but my father is bankrolling the rest of this ride. “I’m surprised Braden and Becca didn’t join us. I’d imagine they were real thankful you spared them of an early eviction for noise pollution. Did you gag the entire time you were in their bedroom?”

“Nope, didn’t gag.” He can’t help but chuckle, and his shoulders shake in that friendly way they’re prone to do. My mom used to say he was the only person on Earth who looked as though he were being electrocuted when he laughed. My mom was funny by nature, so he looked like that a lot. God, I miss her. “But I found a few toys that looked like they belonged on a shelf in the garage and not hiding beneath a mattress.”

“Gross. Now it’s my turn to gag. Let us make no further mention of their coital arsenal. So, what’s new with you?”

“I’m dating.” He hits me with a press-on smile. “I’ve officially got a girlfriend, and I can’t wait for you to meet her. In fact, we’ve just made it official, but I couldn’t keep the good news to myself. You and Braden are the first to know, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I jerk back in my seat as if this questionable good news had the ability to send me to the floor, and it does. “Is it Granny Panties?” I ask, shocked to hell that my father is stepping out on my mother like this. I know the laws of nature aren’t in their favor, but I always thought he’d be loyal to her until the end.

“Granny Panties?” He looks pained by the nickname I’ve gifted this hussy. “I like to call her Rita.”

“Rita? You’re dating Rita?” I have no clue who this Rita person is, but I don’t like the way his features smoothed out when he said her name. Totally dicey if you ask me.

His brows arch. “Have you met Rita?”

“No, but it doesn’t mean I have to like her.” God, that made no sense whatsoever. “Is she nice? Does she like children? Does she have a bumper sticker on the back of her car that reads my other ride is a broomstick?”

He tips his head back, and I watch his gums flap as he guffaws himself to tears.

“You’re hardly a child, Sophie.” He dabs his eyes with his hand. The last time I saw him dabbing tears from his eyes like that was at my mother’s funeral, and now here he is, yucking it up over his new girlfriend—Rita. “And she’s far from a wicked witch.” He calms himself down enough to burn his tongue on his coffee. Serves him right. “She’s anxious to get to know your brother and you. You’re not free tonight, are you?”

“No!” I bark so fast and loud half the coffee shop turns to look at us. “I have a school assignment.”

He holds up a hand, stopping me from sliding into a slippery slope. “No need to go any further. My birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and she’s planning a little something. You’ll get to know her then.”

“She’s planning a little something for your birthday?” I’m about to tell a bitch to step off.

“Yes, she knows you’re busy. She would never want to put anything on your plate. See there? She’s an angel.”

Granny Panties is no angel. In fact, she took something off my plate that I very much wanted on it. I’m the one who was looking forward to planning my father’s fiftieth, and now he’s let this total stranger come right in and commandeer both his life and mine. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to care too much for Ripping-Your-Father-Away-From-You-One-Birthday-at-a-Time Rita.

Our conversation dwindles to nothing, and long before we enter the red zone, we say goodbye. I wait until he’s out of sight before texting my brother.

Did you hear about Dad’s new main meter maid squeeze? Yes, the Beatles’ reference was totally necessary here. Let’s face it. There’s not a lot you can do with that name if you want to slay it.

He texts right back. Rita? Can’t wait to meet her. Dad seems happy. Be nice. K?

I text right back. Be nice? I AM nice. Speaking of nice, I’m sure your neighbors appreciate the measures you’ve taken to secure their sanity. And really? Hauling Dad out here to remedy your headboard dilemma so you can carry on your sexcapades? I’m shocked he didn’t burn down that hotbed of depravity you torture Becca on.

He texts right back. You’re not funny. Dinner tonight?

My stomach clenches. No can do. I’ve got a life—e.g. a paper due. I’ll catch you after the weekend. Even though every texted word of it is true, I still feel like crap for hiding things from my brother. As much as I like to harass him, he’s still my hero. I’d do anything for Braden. My expression sours. I’m pretty sure Braden wouldn’t want me anywhere near Rowen, and here I’ve all but grafted my soul over his.

My phone pings. It’s another text from Braden. You’re not in that social experiment shit, are you?

My entire body catches fire. I can’t breathe. What do I say? Honestly? I don’t want to say anything, so I don’t text back.

My phone buzzes in my hand as he sends another message. Anyway, it’s on. Becca’s watching it, laughing up a storm. It’s hysterical. A bunch of idiots kissing strangers. There’s a girl from my narrative studies class in it. Why the hell would anyone want to put themselves out there like that? I think it’s all a ploy to test out the campus STD clinic. I smell the lawsuits coming a mile away.

Sadly, I happen to agree with him. I’d better say something lest Braden thinks I’ve met up with a serial killer and begins to stalk the campus for his idiot sister.

Thanks for the heads-up, but I probably won’t watch.

I’ll be living it.

Thank God for the fact Rowen has friends in high psychotic places who have agreed our footage is better suited for the recycling bin than a cable network.

I glance at the time, and I’m well into the red zone.

There’s a date to be had with my shiny new boyfriend. Too bad Braden will never accept him as that. But at the moment, I don’t really care what my brother thinks.

My heart grows heavy because deep down I do.

* * *

After a quick primping session, I don a tight little red dress, a loaner from Ember with matching flaming red heels and trot my hot self down to the armpit of the psych building where Seth instructed me to meet him.

It’s dark for the most part, and the building looks abandoned.

“Where’s everyone?” I look past him, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rowen or Petra, but there’s not even a ghost haunting the building at the moment. A part of me has been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since we embarked on this twisted journey. Maybe this is the day Rowen woke up and came to his senses? I bet he’s at some wild party loading up the roller coaster with all the sorority girls he can just to make up for lost time.

“Everyone else is already here.” He gives a little wink as he pretends to dust my shoulders off. “You two are doing great.”

“That’s because we’re exempt from the drama.” Asking Dexter to nix our footage was the best move Rowen could have made—outside of any move he makes with me.

“Let’s move it.” Seth guides us down the hall and over to the elevator where he hits the button that leads to the rooftop.

“So, what can I expect?” Seth has been really good about filling me in on the nature of the outings we’ve had, and I appreciate that. Not that being left in the dark would bother me, considering I’ll have Rowen right there beside me. In the dark! Ha! That’s exactly how this whole thing began, and forever I’ll appreciate that luminary deprived environment.

“Expect a blast from the past. Tonight’s date is Rowen’s choice. You’ll plan the next one. Keep it simple. On campus, preferably. Production costs are through the roof.”

The doors whoosh open, and I’m scuttled to a white tent where hair and makeup give me a touch-up, a mic pack is strapped to my back, and I’m blindfolded. Yes, blindfolded.

A blast from the past? A blindfold? Dear God, if I find Braden threatening to toss Rowen off the rooftop, it wouldn’t surprise me. The past wasn’t so great. It wasn’t so terrible either, but Becca turned into a stumbling block none of us would survive. Just the thought of her makes my stomach sour. I have never blamed Becca for all of the heartache we went through, but maybe I should. According to Braden, the blame falls squarely over Rowen’s shoulders for dumping her abruptly. I was never filled in on all the dirty details as a kid, but Braden painted Rowen out to be more or less a demon. And I bought that flimsy explanation hook, line, and stinker. I should have probed more. But what had Becca done to have someone as nice as Rowen cut her loose so quickly? Why was Braden so invested in siding with Becca? Wasn’t Rowen his bestie? Couldn’t he have done more to protect his budding bromance? Clearly he did not adhere to the age-old adage bros before hos. So many questions, so little time—and honestly, I don’t want a single answer tonight. The only thing I want tonight is Rowen.

Seth leads me out into the cool night air, and every step feels as if I’m about to dive off a cliff.

Wait a minute! I’m wearing a blindfold. Maybe I won’t find Braden ready to strangle Rowen—which is a long shot in and of itself at the moment—but basically inevitable in the foreseeable future. Hopefully, this date that Rowen handpicked is far more fifty shades of fantastic than it ever is dysfunctional family-oriented.

The spiced scent of his cologne hits me, and my adrenaline kicks in hard. The warmth of his body washes over me as his warm, strong fingers pick up my hand. Seth says a quiet good night as his arm leaves my shoulder.

A soft kiss lands on my cheek as my blindfold is lifted. The first thing I see are those illuminated gray eyes smiling at me with a joy that makes my heart sing.

I take a step back and soak in every inch of this beautiful man. Rowen is resplendent in a formal tuxedo, that black little bowtie pops off his crisp white shirt, and all I want to do is rip it right off him. His hair is slicked back tight, his scruff neatly trimmed. Dear God, Rowen Garret is a dapper dream come true. It’s only then I notice the rooftop has sprouted a gazebo laden with pink and white flowers, wisteria draped around it like a garland, along with twinkle lights. Mason jars filled with candles line the periphery, making it fully feasible to believe we’ve been transported to some exotic romantic locale. The entire rooftop deck shimmers and flickers like a dream.

“You look beautiful,” he says without ever taking his eyes off mine. “I have a question to ask.” He gets down on one knee and pulls something off the table next to him.

“A question?” My heart thumps unnaturally. A question—on bended knee? Oh my shit! Is this a proposal? If this is a proposal, I’ll for sure think this entire relationship is a joke to Rowen. There’s no way we’re at a proposal level, but the thirteen-year-old girl in me screams for the logical side of my brain to shut the hell up.

Rowen looks up with those shining eyes, and his lips part as if looking at me in wonder. In all reality, it might be regret, but we’ll go with wonder for now. Come to think of it, I have never read the rules and regulations of that the TSE was adamant I memorize. What if I’m obliviously unaware of the nature of the underlying premise of the social experiment, and this whole dreamlike scenario gets hijacked by some hellish twist I never saw coming? But before he says a single word, I’ve already committed to the fact that if Rowen asks me to be his bride, I will scream a resilient yes. I would never refuse him, no matter how asinine the scenario would be. Mrs. Rowen Garret. It has a nice ring to it. I should know, I’ve been trying it on for size for years.

“Sophie”—his voice dips down to that lower, sexier than all things on Earth register, and my panties disintegrate to nothing—“would you do me the honor of being my prom date?”

“Prom?” The word guts me and thrills me at the very same time. “This is a promposal?” Tears come shooting out the corners of my eyes at a million miles an hour. I didn’t go to prom. Mindy had a date, but I didn’t want to go stag. There was no one else for me but Rowen.

He nods with that devilish grin spreading like wildfire. Rowen’s smile is worth memorizing, but, more than that, I’d love to invoke it in him over and over again. “Now what’s it going to be?” Those deep creases around the corners of his eyes dig in, and Rowen breaks out into a warm laugh that spans the ages.

“Yes! I would love to!” I garble through tears. My entire body shakes, and I break out into a cold sweat—so not romantic, but thankfully, the nausea has subsided because I’m pretty sure a hat made of vomit isn’t what Rowen is looking for to complete his look.

Rowen bounces to his feet and lands a honey sweet kiss over my lips. “Welcome to your prom, Sophie.”

“Ro!” I wrap my arms around him as we take in the glimmering light, the gazebo glowing like giant puff pastry. Music bleeds through the speakers, soft and low, as Rowen leads me under the canopy where a small table waits with two silver domes. He holds out my seat, and we unveil a lobster for me and a glibbery slab of red meat mooing out Rowen’s name in blood.

He leans in, taking my hand up and kissing my knuckles. “Does your dinner fall under the right phylum for you?”

A warm laugh brews in me. Rowen has always thrown out three-dollar words for as long as I’ve known him. It was something I would tease him mercilessly over, but right about now, I’m finding it very hot to hear the world phylum eject itself from this gorgeous man’s mouth.

“Most definitely.”

I touch my finger to the bright red creature and draw it back just as quick. “Still hot.” I marvel.

“Blow on it.” He gives a soft wink while happily sawing away at his prime rib.

“I save all my blowing for the bedroom.”

“Soph.” He ticks his head back and gives an awkward glance to the camerawoman to our right before he joins me for a quick chuckle. But it’s that steak that’s commandeering his attention.

Most weekends, Rowen would come over and he and Braden would take command of the grill. They ate their way through acres of bovines, so I know for a fact he’s in red bloody carcass heaven.

We enjoy dinner with light conversation that centers mostly on stealing bites of our delicious meals.

“Hey”—I lean in just as a stroke of brilliance hits me—“how about we combine our devious minds to further trick the TSE into gifting us free surf and turf dinners?”

The twinkle lights blink on and off, and we share a quick laugh. Either the guys in the control room have a sense of humor or the universe does. A part of me wants to believe it’s my mother. She was the funniest person I knew. I wonder what she would think if she knew what Rowen and I were up to? She once told me that Rowen Garret had the moon tied to a string. I think I get it now. He’s so brilliant and gorgeous, the world, the moon, they both bow to his whims. And she was right.

The music grows louder as a sappy slow song floats through the speakers.

“I think that’s our cue.” Rowen lifts me by the hand as we head to the center of the gazebo.

“What? No dessert?” I can’t help but giggle up a storm as Rowen wraps those strong arms around me, the warmth from his body mingling with mine.

“I think this is dessert.” His lids hang low and lusty just the way I like them, and I lean in, relaxing my body over his. Suddenly, the cameras surrounding us feel all too prominent. And even though there are only two camera people here at the moment, doing their best to shoot from afar like well-trained snipers, I know for a fact there are all sorts of hidden cameras planted all over this rooftop capturing us from every angle, although, I’m not sure why. Didn’t Seth mention production costs were higher than they expected? I don’t see why they don’t forgo the camera and mics with Rowen and me since we’re basically the cutting room floor specials.

Rowen’s mouth finds mine, and he dusts his lips slowly over me. He pulls back with that drugged look in his eyes, and I’m right there with him.

“Is that all I get for dessert?” My tongue does a quick sweep of my lower lips without meaning to.

Rowen flexes a dull smile. “In the mood for more?” His dimple twitches in and out, and it’s downright dangerous.

“There are some things that I can never get enough of.” The words swim from me, slow and breathy as my chest pounds like a conga drum.

“Come here.” He leans in and touches his lips over mine, lingering there for a moment. Rowen and I tease one another with exceptionally slow kisses, grazing teeth, and teasing tongues, pulling one another’s lower lips out slow like taffy, and suddenly I want the production crew, all of Leland University to disappear so that Rowen and I can take my prom night to a whole other level.

His lips kiss a line from my mouth to my temple, his quickened breathing rushes in my ear like waves crashing on the shore.

“You have plans after this?”

A dull laugh works its way up my throat, but I swallow it down as I shake my head. I love the fact we’re having a clandestine conversation right here in the open, miked up and with the watchful eye of the TSE on us.

“Good,” he rumbles low and erotic. “Because you’re coming with me.”

And just like that, the sweet spot that begs for Rowen Garret’s touch gives an uncontrollable quiver. Nothing awkward at all about having an orgasm in your new boyfriend’s arms while the world seemingly watches. We sway to the music, our bodies pressed tight against one another, our lips slowly savoring every last kiss.

And as soon as production wraps on my senior prom reprisal, Rowen takes me by the hand and we exit the building together, bypass the dormitories, and head straight for the parking lot. Rowen won’t give a clue as to where he’s taking me.

But as long as I’m with Rowen, wherever we are is the only place I want to be.

* * *

Rowen’s truck is brand spanking new and fully loaded with enough bells and whistles that I’m fully convinced it could lift off for space at any moment.

“I’m pretty excited about this magical mystery date.” I lean in and run my hand over his rock-hard forearm. “Am I dressed for the occasion?”

He takes his eyes off the road momentarily to glance over. “You won’t need clothes for what we’re about to do.”

Crap! My vagina clenches with just as much excitement as my heart. Surely Rowen isn’t planning on hitting a homer on opening night, right? I mean, this is basically our first official date as a couple. But then again, he is Rowen Garret, Leland’s resident playboy. To him getting naked right out the gate is just a basic operating procedure for a standard first date.

“Relax, Sugar Puss. I’m teasing.” He gives my knee a quick tweak.

“Maybe I prefer getting naked to hearing that nickname again. You got that, Colossal Crotch?” Nice try, but Colossal Crotch is basically an ego-inflating compliment that I’m sure he’d pay me to shout out in bed. Come to think of it, Sugar Puss may not be a bad mattress moniker either.

He winces into the road and manages to look that much more comely than he already is. “You got me. I won’t call you Sugar Puss if you don’t call me Colossal Crotch.”

“Rumor has it, it’s true as God. But, you know me. I’ve never been one to rely on word of mouth. I’m into investigative journalism myself.” I sink in my seat. Crap. I’ve all but propositioned him. If I’m not careful, I’ll be testing out the gravitational pull while firmly seated on Rowen Garret’s lap rocket.

His lids lower to the point his eyes are all but closed, never a good look for the one who’s in the driver’s seat. “Maybe I’m into investigative journalism, too.” He pulls into a dark meadow and kills the engine before looking over. “Sugar Puss.”

Holy crap. I have never been so turned on in all of my life. The fact that lewd nickname—that my father of all people christened me with—was uttered by Rowen, makes my heart drum ten times harder than I ever thought possible. God, I’m going to have a cardiac episode. And is having a heart attack while losing your virginity a thing? Because I swear on all that is holy, I’m about to venture into heart-stopping Rowen Garret waters.

Rowen comes over and helps me out. “You’re shivering.” His arms wrap around me tight as he lands a brief kiss to my lips. A kiss without a single camera present, and I die a thousand exhilarating deaths. It’s happening. Rowen and I are happening.

The sounds of rushing water, the smell of fresh pines and wet earth tip me off to the fact we’re smack in the middle of Paradise Falls, the most romantic locale in all of Moon Ridge—all of Colorado for that matter. I’ve dreamed for years of the day one of my sleazy dates would haul me up here with less than chaste intentions, and here I am with my childhood crush of all people.

“Are you still cold?” Rowen rubs my arms with his warm hands.

“The air is a little frigid.” The wind picks up, and my chest bucks just trying to keep my lungs from freezing and collapsing. I’m pretty sure frigid is a word seldom uttered on the night most girls hand in their V-card. “Okay, it’s cold as a meat locker.” I glance to the breathtaking falls with their iridescent glow, the way they arch into the sky and blend seamlessly into the night like an ethereal dream. They’ve always held a certain magic—and, on a night like tonight, it’s apparent magic abounds just about everywhere. “I’m pretty sure even a quick dip in that water would land both of us in the morgue. It’s a heart-stopping view all right. But if it means inaugurating me into the colossal club, then I might rethink my stance on post-mortem existence.”

Rowen belts out a laugh as he leads us down the dirt trail that winds around the truck, and there to the left of the falls sits a large blue tent lit up like a paper lantern against the velvet moonless night.

“For you.” He dots my cheek with a kiss.

“Rowen!” I gasp at how wonderfully romantic of him it was to provide four walls and a roof on this the night I plan on thoroughly taking advantage of him. It may be our first official date, but I’ve waited all my life for this night. “I love it.” I wrap my arms around his neck and gaze into those soulful crystalline eyes. My heart stops. The entire world stops spinning as every last molecule in my body electrifies to life. “And I love you, Rowen.” My face pinches with heat as I say the words. I have waited all my life to say it exactly that way.

“Soph.” He rubs his thumb gently over my cheek, my lips. His gaze bears hard into mine, and I know whatever he’s about to say he means it with every bone in his beautiful body. “I love you, too.” His eyes close a moment with what I’m hoping isn’t regret. “I love you so much it hurts. I’m sorry about all the pain I’ve caused. I never meant to hurt you.”

Tears come, and I hate myself for it. My lips invert, trying to keep the river that’s about to erupt at bay. “I’m not hurting anymore. You’ve come back. You healed me.”

A single tear rolls down his cheek, and I’m mesmerized by it. All those years I spent thinking Rowen had buried his heart in tundra and here it is, thawed and offering up its love for me. Rowen lands a soft kiss over my lips before picking me up in his arms and carrying me to the luminescent tent. We head inside, and I spot a sleeping bag spread over the floor, pillows, and a lantern glowing in the corner.

“This is insanity! You are so romantic! You really went all out for our first date. Honestly, I would have pegged you for the type to bend me over the backseat.”

A growl rips from his chest. “That’s a second date move, sweetie.”

We share a quick laugh as he lands us onto the slippery fabric below.

“But seriously”—Rowen sits across from me, cross-legged, as if we’re about to play a board game—“I want to talk to you about a few things.”

“Like how well I’ve sailed through puberty?” I reach down and pull off my dress without waiting for an invite.

“Soph, don’t.” He swallows hard while taking in the view. And he should, considering I’ve donned matching lace panties and a barely there bra. “Shit.” His eyes close as if I’ve just knifed his balls off, but I don’t take it as an insult. Instead, I crawl right onto his lap. “This isn’t why I brought you here, I promise.” His sturdy fingers stroke up and down my abdomen, letting me know otherwise. “You are beautiful.” He lands a stoned kiss to my chest right in between the girls. Rowen’s warm breath lights a fire over my flesh, and that sweet spot between my thighs is right back to quivering. Dear God, I don’t think I can handle much more. I have never pegged myself as someone who would scream her head off in a moment of ecstasy. I thought those were sad exaggerations made popular in movies just to make women look like raving lunatics in the sack. But, God Almighty, if this man’s hot mouth ventures anywhere else on my body, I will howl like a yeti until every Bigfoot hunter in the country has our tent surrounded with rifles.

“We can’t do this,” Rowen pants while tackling me down to the ground as gently as possible. His chest pounds frantic as if he just ran the field twice over, and his eyes are blazing with possibilities. “I didn’t bring protection.”

“What?” I bark up at him, more disappointed than I am angry, but by the way I just belted it out, you couldn’t tell the difference. “You always carry protection! I remember you telling Braden it was like the American Express card—you never left home without it!”

He inches back with a laugh. “That was five years ago.”

I give his ribs a quick pinch, and he bucks. “Admit that it’s still true today.”

“It’s still true.” He raises his arms in surrender. His laughter dies down as his eyes connect with mine once again. “Just not today.”

“Why?” It comes out hard, my sense of humor, though always on tap, is currently at a trickle. “Don’t you want me, Rowen? Don’t you think we’re good together?”

“Yes.” He shakes his head as his hands float down my body. His thumbs pause to hitch into either side of my little lace panties. “God, I want you.” Rowen buries his face in my neck and takes a deep breath. “I just think we should take things slow. You know, feel things out a little before we get there.” He buries a wet kiss in my ear. “And we will get there.”

My girl parts indulge in a nonstop quiver like cheerleaders at the big game. If Rowen doesn’t score the touchdown soon, he should very much fear the revolt my body will unleash.

“Soph”—he pulls back just enough for me to see those heavy eyes—“I didn’t bring one on purpose. I just wanted to be near you tonight. I thought maybe we could talk about things.” That hard problem blooming in his pants presses against my thigh, letting me in on the fact he’s having one very big regret.

“I don’t want to talk about things.” I reach over and grab the little red clutch Ember tucked in my hand before I left. She let me know there was a good luck charm in the side pocket before revealing a condom that boasted of extra ribbing and extra lube. At first, I thought it was disgusting, and most likely a bad luck charm, but suddenly I’m an ardent admirer of Ember’s forward thinking. I fish around the tiny clutch until I come up with gold. “It would be my honor to introduce the Colossus to my—” I don’t have the heart to say that demented nickname I was stuck with.

He snatches the condom out of my hand and I try to snatch it right back, but he raises his hand higher and higher with that obnoxious dull laugh thumping through him.

“Rowen! This is important to me. I’m ready. I want this with you.” I give his arm a hearty swat. “Don’t make me beat it out of you.”

“You’re going to beat it?” A dark laugh gurgles from him.

His lids hang heavy again, and I’m done. Rowen in a tux, plus that stoner look in his eyes equals his clothes are coming off right fucking now.

“Rowen.” I sit up, and he pulls me forward, landing me just shy of his lap. “Not in one of my dream scenarios did I ever have to beg you to take me.”

He leans in with those deeply inquisitive eyes, his lips twisting with curiosity.

“Confession,” I whisper. “I fell in love with you the moment we met. You had my grammar school heart wrapped around your obnoxious middle grade finger from that day forward. And when you left, you took my heart right along with you. I didn’t want it back—I still don’t.”

“Soph.” He closes his eyes a moment as he pulls me in close. “I have a confession to make, too.” There’s a resolute sadness on his face as if it pained him to say it. “That day you and Mindy asked me to take you out—and we got in the wreck?”

I growl because that night is at the top of my shit list as far as days go.

Rowen lands another kiss to my lips before bearing into me. “I was about to ask you to the prom, Sophie. I was planning on taking you the entire time. But then the accident happened.”

Rowen was going to ask me? My heart stops as the idea sinks in.

“And the next day, our world blew apart.” I bite down over my lip to keep it from tugging to the side.

Rowen doesn’t say a word. His hardened features say it all. His lips part as he readies to say something, and I land a finger over it.

“Were you really going to ask me?”

He gives a solemn nod. “I was.”

He was. And it’s at that moment I can feel our hearts sewing themselves together in a way I never knew possible. Rowen lands his mouth over mine, his lusty tongue lashing out in one sweet stroke after another. His hot mouth trails down, hitting the hollow of my neck, and his tongue does a little twirl. Rowen dives deeper, landing in that well between my boobs, and I bite down over my bottom lip to keep from giggling, to keep from crying out like some hysterical lunatic.

The feel of his lips, that soft scruff on his cheeks, his breath over me in this most intimate place makes me moan with pleasure. Rowen reaches back and unhooks my bra, and the girls pop up as if they were overeager to join the party. They are, but still.

Rowen leans back, and I quickly toss my lacey pink boulder holder to the ceiling. But Rowen isn’t interested in my quasi-stripper routine. He can’t take his eyes off the girls. And up until this moment only Vi and I have laid eyes on them post-puberty.

A crooked grin grows on his face as he sits up a moment. “You’ve bloomed nicely, Meyer.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” I pull his head down to where it needs to be, and Rowen licks and sucks with a renewed fury. His fervor picks up pace, as his grazing, his downright biting grows more severe as if he’s teaching them a lesson, and the harder he sucks, the faster he lashes them with his tongue, the harder it is for me to catch my breath.

Oh my God. I’m going to come. This is a real situation, and I’m pretty sure O-ing over a few heated kisses isn’t how this is supposed to work. I’ve seen my fair share of movies to know that we’ll be heaving our way to oblivion at the very same time. For me to lose my shit now would just be downright greedy.

Rowen pushes the girls together and blows a series of soft kisses over the two of them before landing me onto my back. That sleepy look in his eyes is beyond anything I’ve seen. He’s lost in his lust for me, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.

His lips find mine before he dips his mouth to my ear. “I think it’s time for the feast of the gods.”

My heart stops. I can’t take my next breath. “Is that a threat?” I meant for it to sound light and witty, but it came out with a tremble in my voice.

“That’s a promise.”

Rowen pulls back and offers a drugged grin before dripping down my body with those achingly slow kisses. He evicts my panties, inching them off my body, leaving a fire in their wake.

I’m pretty sure I should have my eyes closed, my head writhing in the pillow, but I hike up on my elbows instead, not wanting to miss the show. If Rowen Garret is going to get anywhere near my Sugar Puss, I’m damn well going to see it.

That dark head of his plunges dangerously low, and in one sift move he launches both my legs over his shoulders. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so fantastically frightened in all my life. My heart rages as my breathing grows increasingly erratic. And just like that, the hot wet sensation of Rowen’s tongue falling over me forces my head to plunge back with pleasure. I let out one hearty groan after another. Not the sultry groans one might imagine, more getting your foot ripped off your body by a bear agonizing and psychotically frightened type of a groan. Really? This is so fucking embarrassing. But I can’t help it. His tongue does this swirly thing, and I let out a sharp cry, panting, gripping the sleeping bag between my fingers.

“Rowen!” I bear down with my chin to my chest. Dear God, you would think I was giving birth by the way my body is contracting around him.

He glances up, and for a split second our eyes lock, eliciting a deep spasm of delight deep inside me. It’s as if I needed to see his face to confirm the fact this is actually Rowen and not some frat boy knock-off, some drunken close second. Rowen plunges his mouth back where it belongs and sinks his magical tongue lower still until he’s entered the most intimate part of my body with his nine-inch prehensile member. I can feel him there, lashing me from the inside, and I let out a series of unattractive yelps.

Forget the bear gnawing off my foot, this has downgraded to a puppy injured in the driveway. Dear God, is there not a single sexy sound I’m capable of producing? A thousand wild thoughts sail through my mind, one of which reduces the word virginity to mere semantics. Rowen is loving me with his tongue, a rather violent, all hell breaking loose version of what I envisioned this moment to be like before he works his way to my sweet spot once again and gets right back to business. He pushes my knees out hard, further exposing me to the cool air, and I’m there, trembling against his hot beautiful mouth in less than ten seconds.

“Ro.” The feeling goes from nirvana to hellish torment in less than a second, so I pull back and lock his head between my knees like some demonic nutcracker.

“Whoa.” He touches my thigh as if he’s tapping out. “I surrender, Sugar Puss.” He rides up next to me with a self-righteous grin “It’s true what they say, by the way—sweet as sugar.”

I give a light slap over his arm before the moment grows serious. “Did you ever think about doing that to me?” It’s foolish of me to ask, but hell, inquiring minds demand to know. I’ve spent my fair share of nights thinking of him. A part of me wishes that he were tormented in the exact same way.

Rowen sighs heavily, pressing over my body with his full weight, the buttons on his dress shirt scratching my skin. “Only every damn day since the second you turned sixteen.”

“Sixteen.” I run the numbers. “So, you’re saying I could have gotten extremely lucky after prom?”

“I think it’s better we waited until this prom night. As much as your dad likes me, I’m sure he would have had no problem shoving my ass in front of a judge for statutory rape.”

“Oh, that.” I wrinkle my nose at the idea. The fact Rowen is three years older than me has never really meant anything. “It’s probably best we waited.” A laugh gets caught in my throat as I realize times really haven’t changed all that much. “Here.” I hand the tiny foil package over to him. “It’s my ticket to the best roller coaster in town. I hope it’s a ride all night pass. It’s the only one I’ve got.”

A deep, thunderous laugh rumbles in his chest as he works to take his clothes off. Rowen sits back on his knees, quickly unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers working his belt while taking off his pants and boxers at record speed. Here it is, the moment of truth. Rowen lands next to me, fully in the buff, that tiny lantern still putting out enough wattage for me to take him in with all his God-given glory. That broad chest, those rippling abs, even his thighs bulge with muscle. But it’s that dramatic V that points straight down to something that just so happens to be pointing straight up that holds my gaze.

“Wow.” The word stumbles out rather stupidly. Forget some simple roller coaster. Rowen Garret has a flesh-covered version of the Eiffel Tower.

My lips quiver without meaning to. My face starts in on that weird twitch I get just before I burst into an all-out cry. Rowen must recognize it because he lands his thumb over my lips and shakes his head ever so slightly.

“Don’t be afraid.” He takes my hand and presses a kiss directly into my palm. “Let me show you what to do.”

Rowen is going to show me what to do—teach me. My heart starts in on a few life-threatening thumps as Rowen navigates my hand to his warm chest.

“I love that you have hair.” Dear God, can I shut up already? Bringing up what amounts to bodily fur does not a sexy moment make! I swallow hard, and he ticks his head to the side as if confused. “On your chest.” I nod frenetically. “And you know down where it counts.” I steal a peek down south and HOLY WOW! Rowen Garret is fully equipped with his very own LIGHTNING ROD! Honestly, I think the Eiffel Tower just doubled in size. Is that even possible? More important, is that a good thing? I’m no connoisseur of penises. In truth, I’ve only seen my brother’s, and that was once while we were doing a quick change in the back of my father’s minivan after a day at the beach. It was small and prunish and disturbingly grotesque. And that, my friends, cured me of ever feeling the need to see another wanker for the rest of my natural days. But this? What the hell is this? I know all about the mechanics of it—it’s need for speed once a full tilt erection hits, but how is it so massively goliath in size?

“Please tell me that’s a pop-up book on your lap with a flesh-covered version of the Empire State Building.” I cover my face in shame.

Rowen laughs, but not in any good way. The Rowen I know would have exploded with laughter at my keen observation interwoven with a slight literary reference, but this new version, the nude version, belts a dark, maniacal laugh instead.

God, maybe Rowen didn’t dump Becca? Maybe Becca ran for the penis free hills because his dick was so damn big? It only makes sense why she’s with my prunish brother now.

“Come here.” Rowen pulls my hand along the ridges of his abdomen, down that hardline V zone that points directly to the main attraction. He runs my open palm over the beast seated at the base of his lap, and then as if a surge of electricity runs through us both, I clasp my palm over him, feeling his girth, the strange ridges, right up to his mushroom-like crown.

Rowen lets out an easy groan. “Kiss it.”

“Kiss it?” I couldn’t have jumped more if he stabbed me in the eye with it.

“Yes.” It comes out hoarse and heated. “I want to feel your mouth over it.” His breathing is beyond erratic. His words are broken up with a breath between each syllable like some crack addict who needs just one more hit. “As soon as I saw you at the bar that night—those hot fucking lips.” His drugged gaze sinks to my mouth. “I wanted to feel you on me.”

My adrenaline spikes just knowing what deliciously perverse thoughts were on his mind.

“But you went home with some blonde skank. I watched the whole thing.” Great. I’m sure bringing up other women is the exact opposite of what you want to do while your hand is strapped to your boyfriend’s penis like a bomb.

“I let her go. I went home and tossed off to visions of your mouth”—he rubs my hand over the hard tip—“right here.”

“Well, then”—my heart gives a few threatening wallops—“let me make all of your dreams come true.” I swim down, careful to keep my bare bottom hidden like some deep, unknowable secret. I may be making dreams come true left and right tonight, but my ass will remain a mystery for as long as I can help it.

My lips land over him, and Rowen takes both hands to guide me up and down his body. I try to make a valiant effort to kiss each of the boys as a thank you from me and the girls for the time he spent up north, but to my dismay it’s nothing but a hairy mess. The boys aren’t nearly as tongue friendly as his bald slick member, so I give them a quick scratch before getting back to the task at hand.

“No teeth.”

“No teeth?” I garble with a mouthful. So not sexy.

“No,” he says it stern, and I realize this is the hard line in the sexual sand. I lick and suck and lose myself loving Rowen in the exact way he wants me to, that I want to.

He plucks me off and lands me softly on my back with the grace of a wrestler. Rowen rolls on the condom in less than three seconds, a move I’m sure he’s executed in less time than that, considering the amount of practice he’s had. With a sigh, he falls onto his elbows, his eyes searching mine for a minute.

“Promise me you’ll never hate me.”

“What?” I reach up and give his ear a quick bite, and he lets out a hearty groan. “I could never hate you, Rowen. I’ve worshiped you for far too long to ever do that.”

I help him navigate that broom handle of his to the right place and land my legs over his back, trying my hardest not to cry. I have no idea where the tears are coming from, but I can feel the dam getting ready to burst.

Rowen hikes up farther on his elbows, his intent gaze searing into me just as he pushes in slowly, his body expanding mine as it delves in deep. His chest heaves dramatically as if he were in the throes of a major workout. He’s in me, taking away my innocence, opening me up with his girth as he buries his body inside me. He presses in as far as my body will allow, and he gazes down at me, his chest pummeling, sweat forming at his temples.

“Soph”—his Adam’s apple rises and falls—“I have never been the same since the day I fell in love with you.”

I swallow hard, trying to find something equally romantic and timelessly enduring to say right back. “And I love you twice as much now that you’ve taken my heart and my hymen.”

“Shit.” Rowen closes his eyes and gives a tired laugh. “God, I love you.” He lands an awkward kiss to my lips from this strange angle before carefully plunging in and out of me for what feels like a blissful eternity.

Rowen is in me, deep inside that secret, sacred part of me.

Rowen has been in me ever since the first day we met.

The fact our bodies have caught up with our hearts seems only fitting.

I belong to Rowen Garret.

I always have.

And I always will.