I dress up to meet with Henry. He always looks so suave and sophisticated, and I always look like a school librarian. I usually dress modestly to avoid unwanted attention and focus on my own goals, but tonight, I wouldn’t mind if Henry looked twice.

Connor barges into my room as I’m getting ready. He immediately grimaces. “Where are you going?”

I finish fixing my earring into place and turn around to face him. “To a party.”

“So you’re allowed to go to parties, and I’m not?”

“I won’t be home late.”

Although Connor is tall and broad-shouldered, I have to remind myself that he’s only nineteen. He’s just a scared teenager. I try to keep this in mind when he’s being unreasonable and imagine what my mom had to go through when she was raising me. I was a cranky teenager, too. I never touched drugs, though.

“Do I look all right?”

I spin in front of Connor. I’m wearing a purple dress with spaghetti straps and a more risqué neckline than I would usually dare. I usually wear a camisole beneath this dress, but tonight I want to be sexy. I’m letting my long hair stay loose, but I’ve let it dry naturally after my shower so that my curls come through. They bounce over my shoulders as I swirl.

I finish the look with a pair of stilettos that I haven’t worn since my freshman year of college. Trying to walk in them makes me feel like a newborn gazelle, but they make my legs look long and slender, so I persevere, willing to put up with the inevitable blisters that will rise after more than a few steps in them.

Connor smiles. “You look nice.”

I beam at him. It’s not often I receive a compliment from Connor. It’s those rare moments of sibling affection that give me the strength to deal with him when he’s running wild. “Thanks. Do you have everything you need while I’m out?”

He holds up a bill. “I still have this.”

I smile. “Have a good night, then. Will it be a quiet one in?”

“I’ll stay out of trouble. I’m sorry for being an ass the other day.”

“It’s okay. You know I love you, right?”

“I love you, too.”

As I leave my apartment, I feel lighter than air. I’m dressed to the nines and feeling hot, and, more than that, Connor has behaved himself all evening. He even asked me how my day went when I got back from lectures. Maybe he’s finally settling into life in Cambridge. Or maybe he’s trying to get you off his back by acting the part.

The apartment is certainly nicer, and there’s far less crime here than Holyoke. Perhaps it took him a while to realize how good these next two years could be for us. I hope that Cambridge rubs off on him.

It’s a long walk from my apartment to campus, but I don’t mind. Apartments are cheaper further from the school. At least the walk gives me a chance to get used to walking in my high heels. By the time I reach the Spangler Center, I’m strutting like a model on the catwalk.

I see Henry waiting for me. He’s wearing gray denim jeans and a salmon pink twill shirt with a designer logo on the left breast. His pose is casual—one hand in his pocket, checking his cell with the other. Standing under a streetlamp, he looks like a movie star.

He looks up, and I see his eyes travel over my body. He smiles and kisses me on the cheek in greeting when I reach him. “Lissy! You look incredible.”

I brush down the front of my dress nonchalantly. “I don’t usually get dressed up.”

“You look like you were born to wear that dress.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He holds out his arm to me, and I take it. It feels fairly formal. I look up at him with a teasing smile. “Did you learn to take a lady’s arm at Ascot?”

“Oh, haha.” His accent is incredibly sexy. He gives me a sideways glance, then grins. “You’re not usually one to make jokes. Am I rubbing off on you?”

“Maybe. But you had a moment of self-realization first, so perhaps we’re rubbing off on each other.”

As we get closer to the nightclub where the event is being held, we start to hear music pounding from inside and see the line of students queueing up the street. Henry slips his arm around my waist and shelters me from the rambunctious crowd as we step into line. The simple act of protectiveness strikes me as very sweet.

Before long, we reach the head of the queue and step inside. The music is deafening. The lights are low, but lasers pierce the air and light up the smoke billowing from machines at the front of the club. The floor is already sticky from a thousand spilled drinks, and the place smells like sugary cocktails and human sweat. I’m disgusted and wondering what I’ve gotten into, but Henry is in his element.

A lively chart topper starts playing. Henry wastes no time in dragging me to the middle of the dancefloor. He starts dancing like nobody’s watching; eyes closed, hands clenched into fists, his hips waving. There’s the hugest grin on his face.

When he opens his eyes and sees me standing still, he laughs and pulls me close so he can shout into my ear over the music. “You’re not dancing!”

“I can’t dance.”

Henry raises his eyebrows, lifts his arms above his head and does a pirouette with a loud “Whoop!” Then he looks around to see if anyone has taken notice. Seeing that nobody has stopped dancing, he lifts his hands and grins at me. “Nobody cares.”

He reaches out and takes both my hands in his and encourages me to start moving my body. It’s unnatural, and I feel rigid and knock-kneed, but Henry’s enthusiasm is catching. Soon, I’m dancing without restraint.

I dressed in a sexy little outfit so Henry would see me in a different light, but really, it’s me who’s seeing Henry differently. From tales he’d told me of his antics and partying, I’d believed he was reckless and irresponsible. Yet from seeing him dancing without a care in the world, I realize that Henry is fun.

Maybe I’ve been too harsh on him, too. What’s wrong with enjoying life?

We dance for hours. Henry introduces me to a bitter, herby cocktail that I hate on first sip, but love by the fourth glass. He drinks, too, laughing more and more with each sip.

It’s exhilarating. My body is glistening with sweat. I’m hot and sticky and moving my body like Beyoncé, but I’m having the time of my life.

Then, the mood changes and a slow song comes on. I stop dancing immediately, but Henry doesn’t think twice before slipping his hand around my waist and pulling me toward him.

I look around. Some couples are twirling around like they’re in a ballroom, and others are grinding against each other like they’re in a XXX music video. I settle for linking my hands behind Henry’s neck and looking into his eyes. He places his hands on my hips, and we sway together like kids at a high school disco.

After a few moments of awkward dancing, Henry pulls me even closer. He moves one hand to the small of my back; the other slides up into my hair, and he pulls me toward him. I instinctively open my mouth to receive his kiss, then sink into it. The music and lights fade into nothing when his lips meet mine. Heaven.

We draw back, and I can’t keep the smile off my face as we continue dancing.

Thirty minutes later, the lights come up, and everyone starts to file out. Henry takes my hand and leads me outside.

The fresh air hits me like a wall. The cool night breeze is soothing against my flushed skin. I start to cool down, although I can still feel the effects of the music and cocktails in my bloodstream. I’m happy.

“Can I walk you home?” Henry asks.

I shake my head. “Not my place.” I don’t want him running into Connor again.

“My place, then?”

“Yes.”

As soon as I say it, I think about Connor and a wave of guilt floods over me. But I’m not going to change my mind now. This has been an incredible evening, and I don’t want it to end. For once in my life, I feel young and free.

“Did you enjoy tonight?” Henry asks me.

I beam widely, my eyes bright as stars. “More than I expected. You know, I haven’t danced with anybody since my freshman year of college.”

“You’re kidding. You looked like you were having the time of your life. Deep down, I reckon there’s a party girl in you.”

I laugh. “Maybe.”

Henry’s apartment is much closer to campus than mine; right across the river. When I step inside, I’m blown away by the luxury of an apartment for a college student. Henry has leather furniture, huge glass windows, an expensive sound system, and an en-suite bathroom for his large bedroom.

He invites me to sit down on the sofa in the living room.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Just a water for me.”

He grins. “Ah, there she is—Melissa the academic.” He brings me a water and sits by my side. “Are you all right? Have you had too much to drink? I can call you a taxi.”

“I’m fine. It’s more the sugar than the alcohol, I think. Those things were sweet. Don’t worry, I still have all my senses about me.”

“That means you meant to kiss me on the dancefloor?”

He catches my eye intently with his smoldering gaze. He rests his arm around my shoulders on the back of the sofa and moves closer. My heart pounds in my chest with anticipation. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man.

I want him.

“Henry?”

He turns toward me—but not to answer. His hands plunge into my hair. He tilts his head, his lips parting and his eyes pouring into mine. He pulls me to him, covering my mouth with his and deepening his kiss. My breath catches at first, but I force myself to relax and enjoy his touch. Moaning through it, I concentrate on the way his tongue teases mine, twirling around it, tasting it. I focus on the palm of his hand lying flat against the side of my breast, his fingertips toying with my nipple through the thin material. It tightens, intensifying the feeling.

His hands slip down to the skirt of my dress, and I feel his brazen fingers grabbing the hem. Within seconds, it is swept off over my head, tangling onto the floor. I grab at the buttons on his shirt in hopes of doing the same, but I fumble clumsily. A heat rises up from my awkwardness, flooding into my face.

He chuckles, gliding the back of his finger along my cheek. “You are so cute,” he says. “Relax. Enjoy this.”

He unbuttons his shirt, his eyes bearing down on me, and he doesn’t look away until his shirt covers my dress on the floor. His hands slide up from my waist and cover my breasts. He steps toward me and starts with a small kiss, then lowers himself to his knees.

I feel his hands glide up my bare legs, and they don’t stop until they’re resting on my panties. He hooks his fingers into the sides and pulls them down, lifting first my left foot, then my right foot. He grins up at me.

That is where my arousal begins. His tongue pushes into the folds of my pussy, maneuvering around with agonizing slowness while something teases my clit. I look down, my mouth open with desire, and all I can see is the top of his head.

Arousal strikes at the core of my being, and I barely control myself.

His tongue laps at me just below the tuft of hair cut neatly on my pubic bone. His fingers slide inside me as he looks up into my face, and I catch fire. I feel my orgasm build slowly, my hips gyrating against his hands. Right when I feel myself begin to peak, he stops and stands up, slides his finger along his lips, and sucks the tip with a grin.

He walks away from me while unbuttoning his pants. He slides them down over his butt and stops in the doorway of what must be his bedroom. Looking back, he sticks his butt out and smiles before disappearing into the room. He’s so cocky, but I love it.

I run across the room and stop inside the door. The bedroom is dark, and I can’t see him, so I wait for my eyes to adjust. I feel him behind me, his hands reading my body like Braille. He pushes my arms up over my head and slides his hands across my stomach, maneuvering them like a musician gliding across a piano. I open my legs for him and close my eyes as he intensifies his teasing actions. My breathing harder, my chest heaving, I can feel my orgasm threaten to peak once again.

He tackles me to the bed and pins me down, kissing me heavily, his cock hard and pressing against my thigh. The chemistry between us is astounding. I shiver with need underneath him. His mouth covers one of my nipples as he stretches over me, opening my center with his cock and sliding it inside.

I feel every inch of him. He stretches me, and I start to feel the shadow of an orgasm lingering on the horizon as I experience a downward blood rush of intense arousal. He fucks me slowly at first, then harder—with more control, more direction, throaty groans keeping in tune with each thrust he forces into me. I can feel my orgasm threatening to explode, yet it hangs on to me, driving me mad.

“My God!” he roars. He lifts his chest from me and stretches upward, bearing down on my pelvis. He pushes deeper, and I can feel his cock pulsating inside me as he releases. It triggers my orgasm, throwing me over the cliff and shaking my body to the core.

He trembles, caging me in his arms as he lays back down, planting a heavy kiss on my mouth.