He was right. I hadn’t felt anything yet. As my eyes open and focus on the foreign room with pale walls and hockey posters, it takes me a moment to stop focusing on my throbbing vagina. It will be hard to sit through class this morning.

Oh, shit. What time is it?

I look to my left and find Ozzie gone so I look right to the alarm clock. It’s almost nine. This week I have gone off the rails. The class I’m about to miss will be the third this week. That’s more than I've missed in both junior and high school combined!

My phone buzzes, and I sit up in bed, clutching the sheets to my chest. The room is semi-dark with the shades drawn, but the sunlight peeks in through the gap between the blind and the window. It’s enough for me to see where I’m stepping as I get up and move around the room. By a chair near the window, my pants hang over the edge of the seat. My phone is half out, the display screen glowing.

I bend over to snatch it and frown at the screen. Mom. My finger hovers over the button to answer. The last thing I want to do is talk to her while I’m here. And I have no idea where Ozzie is or when he’ll be back. I can’t believe he left me without saying goodbye. Did I do something wrong? Was I lousy in bed? I mean, I suppose I could have been. I didn’t have much experience to draw from. I would have no idea if I did something wrong. Although it was good for me…beyond good.

The call ends, and I release a breath I find myself holding. Then it starts ringing again. She’s going to keep calling.

Sighing, I press the answer button and adjust my groggy morning voice to upbeat and happy. She’ll assume I’ve been up for hours and about to go to class. That is what the normal me would be doing right now. But I’m not feeling myself. Something has shifted inside of me since I met Ozzie. It’s so bizarre how little I recognize myself right now.

“Hi, Mom!” I come off a little too perky.

“How many coffees have you had this morning? You sound insane.”

I clear my throat and lower my voice. “Sorry. Is that better?”

“No.” On the other end of the phone, a car’s horn honks and an engine roars.

“Is everything ok, Mom?”

She growls. “Some jackoff just cut me off and then gave me his middle finger, like it was my fault!”

“Why are you calling me if you’re driving?”

She clucks her tongue. “You’re on Bluetooth.”

“Maybe you should call me back later.” I search for my bra and underwear and find them scattered on the floor. I pull on my bra while holding the phone against the crook of my neck. Then I grab my Wonder Woman panties and almost laugh at myself. Thank God, he didn’t say a word about them when he pulled them off me last night. I forgot I had them on.

“Your sister is driving me crazy. You’ve always been the one with an eye for details, but when it comes to this party, she’s one-upped you on so many levels. She’s asked me at least eight times if I called the caterer. The last time I spoke with her she wanted me to show proof on my phone that I actually called. I swear, she might not be blood, but you’re two peas in a pod.”

I take a breath. “No, Mom, we’re nothing alike.”

“I thought so too, but…now I’m not so sure.”

“What do you need, Mom? What can I do?”

“Tell me you’re going to wear that dress we bought and you’re going to love it.”

“What dress?”

She sighs. “I texted you a picture.”

“Hang on.” I scroll through my messages and find one from the other day when they paid me a surprise visit. How did I miss this? The dress is to the knees and a dark blue color. The neckline is low but not low enough for me to feel uncomfortable. It’s not my style, but I don’t hate it and I’ll wear anything if it keeps Amanda from driving my mother crazy.

I put the phone back up against my ear. “I’m going to wear the dress, and I'm going to love it.”

“But you don’t love it, do you?”

I pull on my pants and zip them up before buttoning them. “Mom, I’ve never cared about clothes. I’ll wear a garbage bag if it makes your life easier.”

Mom yells at someone, and another horn beeps. “Moron,” she says quietly. Then to me, “I love you, dear. I can always count on you.”

“Like I said, whatever you need.”

“How is that boy you’re seeing? What was his name? Ozzie? That's a strange first name, isn’t it? Is it a nickname?”

“He plays hockey, so everyone calls him by his last name.”

“What’s his surname?”

I close my eyes and tip my head back, trying not to groan. “Ozmore.” She's going to try to find out everything she can about him. Fortunately, she won’t be able to find much. This is the first time his secret past has worked to my favor.

“Where is he from?”

“Mom, I have class.”

“I like this one, Charlie. He's smitten with you.”

“You barely met him. How could you tell?”

“It’s in the eyes,” she says.

All in the eyes. She’s crazy. I don’t believe she can see through him so clearly, but I like thinking his feelings are transparent. Though they don’t feel this way this morning. However, after I get off the phone with Mom, I notice a dartboard on the back of his door with a dart in the bullseye and a note hanging from it.

I approach it, wiggle the dart free, and grip the edge of the note.

Early practice. Didn't want to wake you. Stay as long as you want. Hope to see you in my bed again. O

A goofy smile claims my lips. If I took him literally, I might be offended and assume last night was all about sex, but I know he’s teasing me. This isn’t just about sex. I’m confident of him in a way I’ve never been confident about anything else.

I finish getting dressed and head for the stairs, passing an open door along the way. Two muscular guys are in the room, one on the edge of the bed and the other sitting in a chair with his feet up on the desk. They watch me keenly, their eyes trained on my movements. I pick up my pace, feeling uncomfortable, as if I’m taking the walk of shame, although it’s not the case.

As I reach the stairs, I come face to face with Ryan, the guy from the change room the other night. He holds a cereal bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. He swallows hard and chuckles. “Walk of shame. Own it, girl.”

With my arms curled around my middle, I jog down the stairs and yank on the front door. I hurry back to the dorm, convinced that I smell of sex and sweat. I take an extra-long shower, soaping every single crevice, some sensitive and sore to touch. As I move my hands over my breasts and between my legs, I close my eyes and remember the feel of his soft hands on my skin and how they brought me to the edge of ecstasy before his rock-hard erection finished the job. It almost makes me want to touch myself, and my fingers linger on my lower lips, aching for him again.

The door of my shower stall shakes and I jump, almost tripping over the bar of soap that springs from my free hand. “Jesus!”

“Is that you in there, Charlie?”

I love Emily to death, but if she needs to talk to me, could she not have waited five minutes? “I’m in the shower.”

“Yeah, I got that. Hurry up.”

I heave a sigh and rinse the conditioner out of my hair. I left it in extra long to get rid of the snarls from my very significant bedhead. When I’m done, I grab the towel I slung over the door and wrap it around my body. With my shower caddy in hand, I unlock the door and swing it open.

Emily stares at me with a grin on her face that I haven’t seen since the first time a guy gave her oral sex behind the mall on Canada Day. That silly grin was spray-painted on her pretty face for nearly two weeks. Back then, I rolled my eyes at it. It couldn’t possibly be that amazing, I thought. I know better now. If getting a woman off with your tongue was an Olympic sport, Ozzie would win gold.

“Emily Templeton, what is so important you have to interrupt me in the shower?” I’m not annoyed, not really. My tone is teasing.

She leans forward and looks deep into my eyes before circling me. Then she starts to laugh. “You totally got laid.”

“What? How do you know?”

“Trust me. There is a glow around a girl who’s been sufficiently satisfied, and you have it. In spades.” She folds her arms over her chest, proud she’s proven right.

Now it's my turn to laugh. “I had no idea it could feel like that. I get it now. The fuss? If my first had felt anything like sex felt last night, I’d be out picking up at the bars every night.”

“Is he that good?”

“Better.”

“I knew it. Sam’s been with at least two dozen guys, and she said he’s the only one who gave her multiples.”

For the first time since I met Ozzie, the thought of him with someone else is hard to swallow. “Emily, I don't really want to know what Sam and Ozzie’s sex life was like.”

“Someone’s in love…” She says this like she’s singing a song. I pluck a brush from my caddy and slap her on the ass.

“Ow!”

We pass by Sam’s room on the way back to ours. I want to be quiet so we don’t catch her attention, but it’s impossible with my flip-flops slapping against the tile. I don’t want to run into her. I feel as if she might be able to see my glow too, and the sympathetic side of me does not want to hurt her. Although her door is ajar, she’s not inside, so I hurry up a little bit and pull Emily along. We disappear into our room before she comes back.

Emily wants details, and I give her as much as I can. She’s my best friend, but some of her questions are a little personal. Finding out whether or not Ozzie's penis is crooked, hooked, or straight isn’t something she needs to know.

“Did you ask about the fire?”

Sighing, I plop down on my bed. I’m dressed now and my hair is brushed. I braid it while we continue talking. “He told me bits and pieces. I don’t get it. You and Sam—and Jack even—made it sound like this guy is a vault. I’ve known him less than a week, and he’s told me some pretty personal stuff. He’s not at all who I thought he’d be.”

“But in a good way?”

“Yeah, in a really good way. There are still things I need to know. Like why he was doing community service, for one. But I don’t even think the reason would matter to me. He’s been through a lot, and I don’t think I’d blame him if he acted out as a kid. He’s not a criminal now. He’s…he’s…he’s…”

“He’s what?”

There is only one word I can think of, though I know it sounds corny and stupid. “I don't know. Perfect?”

Emily frowns. “No one is perfect. People who pretend to be are usually hiding something.”

“But he is hiding something. Only instead of lying, he’s upfront about it. So I can’t really judge him for that. Honestly, I have yet to find a single flaw in him, but I’m sure he has his fair share. I certainly do. But it’s weird. He said he actually noticed me in English class. Like at the beginning of the year. He said he always wanted to know who the pen-clicking girl was. The girl who had her hand up for answers to every question. Some people would see that as a flaw of mine. I’ve been called a suck-up, a teacher’s pet, a know-it-all, but he seems to like it. Maybe he has flaws I’ve seen and haven't recognized them as flaws. You know?”

“Oh, God. You’re a goner. You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

I slump back onto the bed and stare up at the fine cracks in the plaster on the ceiling. Falling for him? God help me, I already have.