“Your curfew’s in thirty minutes,” Clark said, breaking away from kissing me, his voice breathless, as he squinted at his digital watch, the glow from the tiny screen the only light in the room.

“Such a long time,” I said, running my fingers over his arm, which was propped above me.

“Your dad got super mad last time,” he reminded me, even as his head started to dip down toward mine.

“He got over it.”

“We’ll have to find your bra.”

I waved this away. “Details.”

“And my shirt.”

“You shouldn’t ever wear one of those,” I said, running my hand over the ridges of Clark’s abs. “Why cover this up?”

“Fine,” he said, pushing some buttons on his watch; they made a little beep! sound, like he’d just programmed the world’s tiniest microwave. “Ten more minutes. But then I have to drive you home.”

“Sure,” I said, stretching up to kiss him as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, my skin against his. “Sounds like a plan.”

? ? ?

“I think she’s getting over him, don’t you?” Bri asked me from across the diner booth.

I started to nod, then hesitated when I realized I had no idea who she was talking about. “Um, remind me again?”

“Toby,” Bri said in the extra-slow way my friends had taken to speaking to me these days. “Getting over Wyatt?”

“Oh,” I said, reaching to snag one of the mozzarella sticks we were sharing. I knew I hadn’t been totally paying attention recently, but even I knew this didn’t sound right. “I’m not so sure about that.” Bri nodded and looked down at the paper place mat in front of her, like she was studying one of the ads for the local businesses printed on it. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bri said, taking a mozzarella stick of her own. “I just was hoping that Toby was moving on. It’s not good for her, especially when he told her he wasn’t interested.”

“I think she just needs time,” I said with a shrug.

“Or,” Bri said, sitting up straighter, “I need to fix her up with someone!”

I winced. Bri liked to think she was a great matchmaker, but she was absolutely terrible at it. After we’d all been burned a few too many times, we’d made her swear that she was done with it. “What about the oath you swore that you would never do that again? Remember, the one you took after the mullet guy?”

Bri waved this away and shook her head, looking determined and now much more cheerful. “These are extreme circumstances,” she said. “Trust me. It’s a great idea.”

? ? ?

“Hold on,” Clark said, sounding half out of breath as he fumbled with one hand behind him, trying to find his bedroom doorknob.

“Holding,” I said, and I leaned down to kiss him, even though I knew I was making the situation worse. We’d been on the couch when I’d decided that I couldn’t stand it any longer—I was getting a crick in my neck, and the fabric of the cushions was scratching my skin. It just seemed crazy that we were putting ourselves through that when there was a perfectly good, unused bed right down the hall.

We hadn’t stopped kissing as we walked, and even though I knew it was probably slowing us down. Clark was half carrying me, my legs wrapped around his waist, as he finally opened the door and stumbled for a few steps inside. I kissed him again, and we stayed that way for a long moment before he set me down and I looked around, taking in his room for the first time since the night of Bertie and the chocolate. It looked the same—the neat stacks of clothing, the carefully made bed. Although I did notice that the books on writer’s block seemed to have vanished from the top of his desk.

I looked at the bed for a long moment, letting my mind go places it probably shouldn’t. As things with us had progressed, our discussions over the last two weeks about taking things to the next level had gone from “if” to “when.” Which was exciting and scary and overwhelming and pretty much all I could think about.

“You okay?” Clark asked, squeezing my hand. I squeezed his back and made myself look away from the bed, making myself remember that this random Tuesday would not be the night. I had to get my head around it a little more first, talk to my friends, and actually do my hair, as opposed to just twisting it into a knot like I’d done tonight. I wanted it to be totally special.

“Hey,” Clark said from behind me as his slid his arms around my waist and kissed that one spot on my shoulder. He pulled me closer against him, and I swore I could feel the beat of his heart against my back. I turned to face him, and he ran his hand over my hair, his fingers trailing down my cheek, stroking along my jawline so gently, like I was something precious. He leaned down to kiss me, and I kissed him back, and then we were kiss-walking across the room, until we fell down onto the bed together, and then there was only his lips and his hands and our breath, falling into a rhythm until I couldn’t think about anything except him, and us, and now.

? ? ?

“Talk,” Palmer said, pointing her Twizzler at me. “Andie. Details.”

I rolled over to look at her, holding my hand up to cut the glare. We were sunbathing on Palmer’s roof, all four of us. Our schedules had aligned for the afternoon, and it wasn’t until we’d set up there, with towels and snacks, that I realized it had been a while since it had been just us—no boyfriends or crushes or Tom. And how much I’d missed just the four of us hanging out. “What?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew. And it was one of the reasons I’d wanted to hang out with them today—I needed some girl talk, and to figure out what I was feeling, in a way I never seemed to be able to except when we were together.