School here in San Diego is just as easy as it was in Miami. I pass my SATs with flying colors. Theoretically, I can take my pick of universities. But what do I want?

Along with Devon, I’m a football star. King of the school, I could have any girl spread her legs for me. But what do I want?

“Hey, Fisher’s throwing a party today.” Devon slaps me on the back as he sits down beside me outside at lunch.

“I know.”

“Are you going?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Come on, we’re going.”

I frown. “You’re going? Why?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. Ava wants to.”

The two of them haven’t been to a party in forever. And why would they? We all go there to get laid. But they’ve already found each other. And I haven’t seen any action in ages. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right.

“She’s up to something,” I say. “You know what it is?”

He laughs. “You’re starting to understand how her brain works, huh?”

I look across the courtyard. Chatter and laughter are everywhere. I don’t know when I realized how much I hate this, but I do. I don’t mean the talking and the laughter, but this fake chitchat, this behavior with only one goal: to have a good time. Get some pleasure. Like monkeys. It just doesn’t cut it for me anymore. I guess a lot has changed since last summer. A lot inside me. I’m a little scared I’m gonna grow a pussy if I keep thinking like this.

“Keep me out of it,” I mutter. Because I couldn’t care less if Ava’s up to something, as long as it’s got nothing to do with me.

“So you don’t feel like going to a party?” Devon asks incredulous.

I shrug. “It’s always the same bullshit.”

“I thought you were into that sort of bullshit.”

I can only shrug again. I know I used to like partying. But recently, I want… well…more.

Meaning. I want my life to have meaning. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just depressed because I’m not getting laid. Maybe. But for some reason even meaningless sex doesn’t sound good anymore.

“Come on, you look like a lonely lost walrus.”

That makes me grin. “A lost walrus? What the fuck’s that supposed to look like?”

He laughs. “Like you.”

I snort. “You are so weird.” I sigh. But he’s right about one thing: I am lonely. “Okay, I’ll come. But if it’s lame, I’m going home.”

“Fair enough,” he says and holds out a fist. I bump it, wondering why I even do this to myself anymore.

* * *

The party turns out not to be as bad as I thought.

It’s worse.

As usual, everybody’s drunk or stoned, and when I go to the bathroom, I pass two rooms occupied by people fucking—doors wide open—in front of a few observers. Even the two girls getting it on for an audience of three guys can’t motivate me to stay.

Fuck, what am I doing here?

And much more importantly: why am I no longer into this?

Girls making out… That should be dynamite for my dick. But when I’m holding it, about to take a piss, there’s nothing.

That’s fucked up.

I go back to the living room, where Carey’s having fun with Katie, and realize I just have to get through this somehow. He’ll be sixteen next month. And if I leave him here tonight, he won’t come home. Then again, maybe he’s a goddamn Golden Retriever, and will always makes it home—I don’t know because I’ve never left him in a place like this.

Fuck, now I sound like my dad. I’m gonna shoot myself!

* * *

Eighteen. I’ve finally reached that golden age: legality. I’m an adult now. Those thoughts flicker through my mind as I wake up on my birthday. In a few weeks, I’m going to be done with high school for good. And then what? What am I going to do next? I still don’t like the idea of any of the colleges that accepted me, not even the two who offered me football scholarships. So I haven’t formally accepted a spot anywhere yet.

My birthday agenda isn’t exactly a giant party. In fact, I’m supposed to go meet up with Shane, Mac’s boss, in a few minutes. Ever since that gala dinner for the center, I’ve been meeting up with him up there, when Mac isn’t working. Since she called me a kid, implying my feelings are unreliable, I’ve only talked to her when I absolutely can’t avoid it. Not on purpose, really, but I just didn’t realize how much those words would hurt. Still, I miss her.

I miss her looking at me, joking with me, talking to me. I miss knowing there’s somebody out there who cares about me and has my back. For a few weeks, I thought I had all that. I mean, not Mac in my arms—or my bed—but at least a wonderful woman in my life.

Before anybody can notice I’m up, I sneak out of the house and drive over to see Shane. We often talk about his time in the military, and with every story he tells, I find the thought of it more appealing. Of course, I know it was different for him because the U.S. wasn’t fighting in two separate conflicts back when he joined. We obviously have a different situation today, nearly four years after September 11. If you join the military today, you’re definitely going to see some fighting. And yet, I still feel some motivation to join up. It would give me a chance to defend those American ideals everyone’s always harping on about, and help everyone here at home keep living a safe and peaceful life.

It would help give my life meaning. A word I’ve been thinking a lot about lately.

On the other hand… It’s war. It’s not like playing Counterstrike with Carey. The pixelated images from the game—severed limbs, gun wounds, and battle fields—run through my head, and I have trouble imagining them in real life.

And that’s why my head and my heart are currently fighting a battle of their own. A battle of epic proportions.

“Hey, Hunter!” Shane calls out when I step inside. There’s a keypad on the door so no unauthorized visitors can get into the center, but he gave me the code a few weeks ago.

“Hey, man,” I say, shaking his hand.

He smiles. “Happy birthday! How does it feel to be an adult?”

I shrug. “I don’t feel any different. I don’t get why people suddenly look at you differently on your eighteenth birthday. I mean, it’s a matter of a few hours, really.”

He nods and raises his hands defensively. “Hey, you know I’ve been taking you seriously since I first met you.”

“I know.”

“So what’s up?” he asks, leading me back into his office. “You seem a bit jumpy today.”

I follow him, rubbing my neck. “I don’t know, man. It just feels like I don’t belong here anymore.”

Shane sits and gestures for me to take the remaining chair. “You’re a grown man now,” he says. “It didn’t happen overnight. But it did happen over the past few months. You said it yourself. Last summer, you were a different person. Your perspective on the world has fundamentally changed. You’re a man now, yet you’re still in a situation where people treat you like a little boy.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to finish school,” I mumble.

“Not long now. Just don’t screw up at the finish line. Just a few months, then people won’t be telling you what to do every hour of the day anymore. But you gotta finish what you started. That’s part of what being an adult means. Seeing things through, even when you feel like giving up.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna finish school. It would be stupid to throw in the towel so close to the end. Just lose twelve years of your life.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you’re so much smarter than me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I laugh.

Shane grows serious again. “I don’t want to sound condescending, Hunt. But I’m proud of you. I know you’re going to make it. You’re a good man.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly. Shane doesn’t throw around compliments easily, so every one of them counts.

“How’s Mac?” I ask. I’ve actually confided in him about my feelings for her, even though it was difficult. But he hasn’t betrayed my trust. Quite to the contrary. One talk led to another, and things have really started moving inside me. I’m sorting my feelings out.

He groans a little. “Well, she’s good at locking things up inside her. But I do know the situation with you is not easy for her, either. I wish I could give you hope…”

I shake my head. “I know it’s hopeless.”

Slowly nodding, he throws me a sympathetic look. “I guess I should say something along the lines of: you’re young, there are lots of women out there—”

“Don’t.”

He nods. “I don’t want to belittle your feelings. I’m sure some people meet the love of their life at seventeen. I’m sorry.”

“Is it ever going to stop?”

“No idea.” Shane pats me on the shoulder. “Let’s get in the ring.”

I get up and follow him. He’s given me some classes over the past few months. He said it would help me get rid of some aggression but also help me focus. And it works. These days I feel free, even when I’m not in the ring.

Unfortunately, the feeling doesn’t last long enough. Whenever I get home and see her—or my dad hugging and kissing her, stroking her, or worse, when I hear them moaning in the bedroom—I want to go straight back to the gym.

I hate to say it, but thank God Dad isn’t home much…

On the way home today, I pass by a coffee shop so I stop and order something to drink. On the way out, I see Brittany, Mac’s best friend, sitting at a table in the corner. She waves at me, and I walk over to say hi. She’s nice, but she keeps flirting with me. I don’t really mind women in their mid-twenties having the hots for me, of course. I just wish it was Mac.

“Hey, Hunter,” she purrs.

“Hi, Brittany.”

“You know you’re supposed to call me Brit,” she says, batting her lashes. I just nod. “Sit with me a minute. Let’s catch up!”

I don’t really have anything better to do, and I don’t want to be rude, so I slide into the booth beside her.

“What are you up to?” she asks, as if she’s wildly interested.

“Oh, just school and stuff,” I say.

“You’ll be done soon, right?” she asks. “Have you decided what you’re going to do next?”

I shrug. “College, I think.”

She nods. “That’s very mature of you.”

That seems like a stretch, because plenty of immature people go to college, but I just shrug. “Yep, as of today, it’s official. I’m an adult.”

Her eyes light up. “It’s your birthday today? Happy birthday, Hunter!”

“Thanks,” I reply.

She scoots in a little closer and puts her hand on my thigh. “If I’d known that I would have gotten you a present.”

I look at her hand, which is sliding up my thigh, and watch as she grabs my dick through my jeans. Slowly, she starts rubbing it. I can’t do anything about it—I grow hard, even though I don’t want her.

“But maybe I could give you another kind of present,” she whispers in my ear.

“Brittany—”

“Let’s go to my place.”

I try to fight the excitement coursing through my cock as she says this. God, how can you turn down a suggestion like that? It’s not like I stand a chance of ever getting it on with the woman I love. The woman I love. I will deny ever having thought those words till the day I die, so don’t even think about quoting me. I know I’m into Mac. No doubt about it. But here’s a beautiful woman, a few years older than me, offering sex. What single man in his sexual prime would say no to that? Fuck, doing it with an older woman would make me an absolute king.

I nod, and she leads me outside. At her car, she throws me the keys, and I’m a little confused, but I just get in and start driving. And then I see why I’m driving. With deft fingers, she opens my fly and grabs my dick. I swerve, and we get dangerously close to a telephone pole.

“Probably not a good idea,” I say, pulling her fingers out of my pants.

She laughs quietly and tries another tactic: touching her tits. She moans, and I can see her nipples through her top. Mac’s tits are so awesome. My hands are still prickling from the memory of touching them. Brittany’s are smaller. Still hot, of course, as all tits are, but not spectacular, either.

But the way she’s touching them…

I almost veer into oncoming traffic but just about manage to get us back on track as three cars honk at me.

“Brittany,” I hiss, but she just keeps smiling.

When we finally get to her place, I’m relieved. I close my fly and follow her inside. In her apartment, she offers me a drink, but I decline.

“So…” she says.

“So…?” I ask.

“I’m going to suck your dick.”

I swallow as she gets down on her knees in front of me. Her mouth approaches my fly, and she licks the jeans stretched across my hard-on.

I’ve explained this to you before: A man can fuck one woman and love another, even if the woman he’s fucking is best friends with the woman he loves. Not a problem.

She rubs the bulge in my pants and looks up at me through her lashes, lips slightly open, wet. Her eyelids are half closed. Fuck me! That look is so damn hot I want to ram my cock down her fucking throat right now.

I breathe heavily as she runs her hands along the outline of my dick, turning me on. I can feel the first drops coming out of it and growl softly.

“Mmm, honey, you really want it, don’t you?” she purrs. “Your cock is so damn hard you’re about to burst, right?”

I don’t know about you, but I find that from most women, dirty talk just sounds horrible. They just can’t do it. Oh, yeah, that’s it, baby. Oh, yeah, your cock is so big. How’s it going to fit inside me? Oh, God, yeah, come on my tits… Okay, maybe that last one’s kind of sexy. But really. The only thing I need is a fuck me—said in Mac’s voice, with Mac’s full, rosy lips.

And thinking about Mac makes me realize I can’t sleep with Brittany. Did I say a man could fuck the love of his life’s best friend? Maybe another man can, but I can’t. I don’t want to be that kind of man. I want to be a man who sleeps with the girl he loves. And nobody else. Even if it means I’m not going to have sex for a very long time. Because everybody else just seems so…unappetizing.

I want Mac’s lips on mine. Mac’s tongue on my skin. Mac’s hands around my neck. Mac’s pussy around my dick. Mac’s moans in my ears. Mac’s eyes on mine. Mac’s nose against mine. Mac’s legs wrapped around my hips.

“Sorry, I can’t,” I say and take a step back.

“Oh, yes, you can. Your dick is so hard,” Brittany purrs, sliding across the floor on her knees.

“I can’t have sex with you.”

“Oh, come on, honey. Just let me suck your dick.” She fingers the zip of my fly. “You’re not going to regret it, I promise.”

“Stop. I gotta go.”

I turn around, and she scrambles to her feet and comes after me. “Come on, Hunter. You’re sexy. I’m turning you on. You’re finally eighteen…”

“Which means I get to make my own decisions,” I say.

She grabs my arm. “Fuck me.” She says it. She says the words I need to hear. But her voice is all wrong.

“Sorry,” I say, opening the front door.

“Come on! You can’t get me all horny and then leave!” she calls after me, upset. “That’s not healthy!”

I turn around to face her. “Are you aware you just used the same line rapists use? Your best friend works at a center for rape victims!”

She goes a little pale. “You’re not playing fair,” she says. “I want you. I want you to stick your dick in me and fuck me with the endurance of an eighteen-year-old.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Seems like you’re just out for a good old fuck. Why don’t you look for one in the phone book? Probably have more luck there.”

“You goddamn asshole! Nobody says no to me!”

“Seems like I just did.” I turn around and run down the stairs. It’s eight floors down, but I don’t feel like waiting for the elevator.

When I’m outside, I take a deep breath. How can Mac be friends with such a nutcase?

And did I actually just make a promise to myself that I’m never going to fuck anybody but Mac? Fuck me! I just put myself in hell…

And yet, it feels really great.

* * *

When I step through the front door, Carey comes at me.

“Hunter! Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you, man!” He hugs me a little tentatively, and I hug him back. My little brother—though he’s not that little anymore.

“Happy birthday, man! Come here, come to the kitchen. There’s something pretty cool in there.”

I follow him down the hall and find Dad and Mac standing in the kitchen. Dad hugs me, too, and wishes me a happy birthday. I turn toward Mac, who gives me a shy smile. For months, I’ve hardly spoken a word to her. But she whispers, “Happy birthday,” and I nod, giving her a smile.

Then I see what’s on the kitchen island. There’s a huge birthday cake shaped like a BMW M3 with eighteen candles on it.

“You didn’t have to get me a cake,” I say, sort of embarrassed.

Carey laughs and smacks me on the shoulder. The guy’s so strong now, it stings a little. “What do you mean, get you one? Mac made it!”

Made it? Slowly, the words sink into my brain. Mac made me a cake for my eighteenth birthday. Nobody has ever made me a cake before. Never mind one like this.

It’s hard to contain the emotions flooding me. I look at her and see her nervously biting her lip. This is the woman I love, I realize. Truly love. And for months, I’ve been avoiding her, not even giving her a chance to make up for her hurtful words.

I take three steps toward her and give her a big hug. She’s surprised and stiffens a little before she hugs me back.

“Thank you, doll,” I whisper in her ear so only she can hear.

She nods and kisses me on the cheek. “Happy birthday.”

I take a step back, look at the cake, and beam. “Nobody’s ever made me a cake before.”

Dad laughs. “That’s true. Let’s try it.”

I nod, and Mac hands me the knife. I’m not sure how to cut it, but I just slice into it, cutting off pieces big enough for a sea monster. Mac looks at me like I’m crazy when I hand her a plate, but Dad and Carey are more than happy with their portions. It’s red velvet with cream-cheese frosting. I don’t know how Mac figured out this is my favorite, but somehow I’m not surprised.

“Delicious!” I say, my mouth full, and she smiles. I never want to see her sad ever again. I’d rather spend the rest of my life unhappy than see her eyes fill with tears again.

In that moment, I understand the nature of love.

* * *

That evening, Carey takes me over to Devon’s, where a ton of my friends jump out from hiding spots behind furniture and yell, “Surprise!”

I shake my head. I never thought they’d organize a huge party for me. Especially because I told them I didn’t want to celebrate. But I have to admit, when I see all my friends milling about, chattering away, I’m happy they ignored my wishes.

So I push my misgivings away and proceed to drink my weight in beer. After, we have to take a cab home, and I fall asleep on the way upstairs. Literally. Who knew stairs were so conducive to sleeping?

At some point, somebody tugs on my arm, trying to make me get up.

“Stop,” I mumble.

“Come on, Hunter. Your bed is much more comfortable,” Mac says. Mmm. Bed with Mac…

“I’ll always come to bed with you, doll,” I say, almost without slurring my speech. Slowly, I get up and sling an arm around her shoulders for stability.

“Okay, birthday boy, one step at a time.”

I don’t know how she does it, but I eventually end up on top of my bed. To complete this domestic fantasy, only one thing is missing…

And then she does it. She takes off my shoes. I awkwardly try to get my clothes off, struggling with every piece, until she finally just helps me. When I’m down to my boxers, I take those off, too. If I wasn’t so drunk, I might have noticed that was a stupid move with my dick so hard, but drunk as I am, I just mutter, “Thanks, doll.”

I feel her pull the duvet on top of me and run her hand across my head. Then she’s gone, and I fall into a deep, deep sleep.