“Happy birthday to you, indeed.”

We’re standing on the side of the Boat House. The crowd started to spill out into the park after we made our exit, and I didn’t want to risk seeing anyone. Seeing him. Zoe puts a hand against a tree and unhooks the leather straps around her ankles, kicking her shoes off onto the grass. She takes a sip from the champagne bottle she smuggled out of the party and looks at me quizzically, passing me the bottle.

I can still smell him, and I try to steady myself against the wall, taking a small sip from the bottle. The foil on its neck feels strange against my lips, and I realize it’s because my mouth is raw from his kiss. His hard, wonderful, dizzying kiss. I pass the bottle back to Zoe and bring my fingertips to my lips, tasting myself on them. I could fall to the ground right here.

“Take your shoes off,” Zoe suggests, waving the bottle at me. “Those heels are probably sinking down into the dirt. Take ‘em off. It feels good.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest. I can still feel where his fingers were inside me, on me, my most intimate parts. I can still feel his lips against mine, the rush of having him pin me against the wall, the sweet surrender making me feel crazy and out of control.

“I’m good,” I say, motioning for the bottle again. “Don’t want to get my feet dirty.”

I peer around the corner of the building when I hear some of the party guests file out. I should say goodbye to some of dad’s coworkers, but I’m still shaking. They’d know what just happened to me. I can feel it painted on my face, on my lips, behind my eyes. I can still feel it.

“Well, then let’s go,” Zoe says, grabbing her shoes from the dewy ground and linking arms with me, “because you’re getting my favorite shoes dirty.”

Walking slowly through the park, we make our way on East Drive toward 5th Avenue. Zoe doesn’t let go of my arm, and as we walk along the quiet path under the streetlights dotting our way, the air grows warmer around me, but I still have goosebumps on my arms where he held me.

“Want to tell me what happened back there?” Zoe asks in a small voice. She looks over at me and pats me on the hand, letting me know I can tell her anything. “You have too much fun on your 21st?”

“I thought your idea of too much fun was puking in front of some bar on Third Avenue,” I joke, slowing my pace down and stopping. I break away from Zoe and slip my shoes off, hooking them onto my fingers and lacing my arm back through Zoe’s. “This wasn’t exactly that.”

“So what happened?” Zoe says as we get to Fifth Avenue. The street is empty, the humidity in the night air forcing people into bars and restaurants where they can escape the heat. “Last call isn’t for a few hours, A. You want to grab a drink?”

I take a deep breath and exhale shakily, surveying the street for a cab. A few zip by us, two girls with their shoes in their hands instead of on their feet, but none have their light on.

“You know this has something to do with the guy who was looking at us,” I say, nearly wincing. I don’t know why, but I almost feel embarrassed to tell my best friend what happened.

She takes a step back and smirks. “Uh huh,” she says giddily, “finally the truth comes out.”

Zoe takes my hand and drags me over to a bench where we both plop down. I take an elastic out of my purse and throw my hair up into a ponytail like it should have been all night. I can’t believe I’m about to tell Zoe what happened, make it real.

“I don’t know what happened,” I say. My face flushes with heat. “One second I’m eating a burger, and the next…”

“His shoves his dick into you?” Zoe says, her eyes wide, a huge, anticipating smile on her face. She puts a hand on her forehead and shakes her head back and forth. “I knew it!”

“God, no!” I say. “You think I would do that...that...for the first time with someone I didn’t even know?”

“Honey, then what’s your excuse? You know lots of guys and you haven’t done it with any of them yet, either.”

She’s correct. As much as I try to convince myself it’s the truth, my logic doesn’t make any sense. A random man would be as good as any of the jerks I know at school.

“We just...made out a little.”

“Right,” she says, smirking and nodding. “Made out.”

“That’s correct,” I say. “And he...did something to me.”

“Did he kiss you somewhere naughty? God, those lips were so amazing. I bet he had your pussy wet before he even got down there.”

I blush and feel a spark inside my stomach. “I can’t believe we are talking about this out in public. And no, he didn’t.”

I’ve never had a man do that to me, not even close. In fact, after all the first dates, second dates, and crap dates I’ve been on, I’ve never even had a man’s hands on me like tonight.

“Do you see anyone around?” she makes an exaggerated show of looking around, at everything and nothing in particular. “It’s just us, babe. Now spill! I told you about my thing, now you tell me about yours!”

“He just...oh my god.” I put my face in my hands, but I can’t help smiling. “He just touched me a little.”

“Babe,” Zoe says, throwing her arm around my shoulders, “that’s fucking awesome. Just some innocent heavy petting on your 21st birthday. Love it!”

I stand up and straighten my dress out. But there’s a little part of me that feels empty. My body feels incredible, the heat of his kisses still radiating inside me. But there’s a little tug on me, some feeling that I’ve done something wrong. Maybe I regret letting it happen, giving over to my most hidden desires.

His touch, his fingers, his mouth on my neck.

Letting him press himself against me, letting my mind wander to his cock, wanting to feel it in my hand. The way he told me to take it out. The way he told me he wouldn’t take it slow.

Or maybe I regret stopping it, running away from him when he called out to me.

I see a few yellow cabs approaching, and one has its light on. I hop up from the bench and wave it down, Zoe following behind me. We get in and she tells him we’re going back to the dorms. She says something about my birthday, and a special present I’ve been given. But I can’t focus on her or the ride. It’s a good thing she’s always the one who tells the driver where we’re going when we take cabs together. All I can think about is his words and his touch, and I watch my window as the park speeds past us.