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“Has he texted?”
“Not really. But he doesn’t.”
“Yeah, well, he never had sex with youbefore either, so don’t use previous behavior as holy writ.” Brennasqueezed Zara’s hand. Zara downed another glass of wine.
“Should I call him?”
“Probably. At least before you make anylife-rearranging moves.”
Zara slumped against the couch. “Can we goback to the part where I had awesome sex, and I don’t ever want tohave sex with anyone else, and I can pretend he felt that samething, and nothing else matters?”
“Oh, hell, yes.” Brenna popped up andscampered back with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. She plonkedthem down by the wine bottle. “You know we always celebrateexcellent sex in this household, Miss! Everything else isincidental.”
Zara bit her lip and nodded. She checked herphone and fired off a quick text to Dane.
Zara:Miss you tons. Can’t wait for thisweekend.
There. That wasn’t too much pressure. Shedidn’t even add emojis. Not that much sappier than anything shewould’ve sent to anyone else.Maybe?Maybe she shouldn’thave sent it. Maybe she could blame the wine if he asked what thehell she was doing?Or just talk to him…
“Brenna, I’m skipping class tomorrow.” Sheannounced the decision after the fourth glass of wine.
“Gonna try catching him in person?” Brennabit into a cookie. “I mean, worst case scenario, you get an orgasmon a Monday, right?”
“Right.” Dane had gotten her through seniorprom meltdowns, dodgy Southside clubs, drive-by shootings, and badboyfriends. Talking about whatever was going on between themcouldn’t be much weirder than anything else in their sharedhistory.
Could it?
****
ZARA
Chicago, Illinois, August 28
Zara didn’t bother with excuses to herprofessors. What could they do? Flunk her? She didn’t really care.She might later, she supposed. If she and Dane did run off for somereason, she’d probably have to rely on a good GPA and friendsposing as bosses to get a job. She realized she had no idea aboutDane’s finances or legal employment history beyond working for herdad as a guard and driver.Might have to make up some referencesfor him too.Frantic planning against imaginary what-ifs kepther from turning her car around and hiding back inPeoria.
Almost three hours later, she reached Dane’sbuilding with a half-decent marketing pitch for their livestogether somewhere far, far away. Australia? France? Indonesia?Wherever. As long as he wanted to go.That part she didn’treally want to think about. She managed to not-think about it allthe way into the building, where a nice, older lady held the dooropen for her, chattering about forgetting her keys all the time. Itwas close to noon, and she figured with working late hours, Danewas probably just getting up.
Her ability to not think sputtered out inthe elevator, two floors shy of his level. He’d know she was hereif he checked the cameras. It was too late to go back.
God, what if he’s with another girl?The thoughts spun in stifling circles around her skull as sheexited the elevator and started down the hall.It’s fine. He’lljust tell me to get lost and … yeah, it’ll be over. It’sfine.
Zara’s hand wouldn’t make contact with hisdoor. She tried to grab the handle twice, but the image of him withsome unknown girl kept shorting out her brain. Finally, shebreathed and pulled her phone out of her purse. And hit his number.The phone rang twice. She could hear his ringtone on the other sideof the door, so he was definitely home. Maybe this would’ve beeneasier in the parking lot. What if she heard a female voice inthere too?
What if?The phone pickedup.
“Hey.” She swallowed. “Um. What are youdoing?”
“Getting dressed. Is everything allright?”
“Well, why don’t you skip getting dressed?And open the door.”
She heard a sudden shuffling and a thud.“Shit, Zara, what are you doing here?” But before she could answer,the door swung, and he was standing in front of her wearing blackjeans, a thin leather belt, a dark undershirt, and nothing else.Zara’s mouth went dry.
“Um.”Very eloquent. He’s bound to throwaway his whole life for someone so erudite.
Slipping his phone into his pocket, hecaught her shoulder with his other hand. “Jesus, you’re pale ashell. Are you okay?” He urged her over the threshold and into hisarms.
“I told you I couldn’t wait for theweekend.” Zara relaxed for the first time since she’d woken up andpressed her face against his chest, breathing in the scents of soapand aftershave. Why did he always smell so good, no matter whatfragrance he picked? “You don’t mind, do you? I needed to seeyou.”
