Page 73 of His Reckless Freshman

“Let me guess—you’re in the middle of a big assignment, and I’ve interrupted you mid-thought. I’m sorry, sweetie. I just miss you and wanted to hear your voice.”

I force a smile, hoping she can hear it in my tone. “It’s fine, Mom. I miss you too.”

“My big college girl. It was only yesterday that you were holding my hand and I was walking you to your first day of school.”

I internally groan, hoping she’s not about to take a long, nostalgic trip down memory lane. Ben’s waiting for me. But how do I cut her off if she starts getting emotional?

“Aw, Mom.” I push out a light laugh.

“I know, I know. I’m going. Just know that I’m thinking about you. Good luck on the assignment.”

“Thanks.” I hang up and stare down at my screen. I just lied to my mother. Well, not actually. She assumed, and I just failed to correct her.

And you know, in a way, this is kind of like an assignment.

I’m learning how to make my body fly.

That’s a big deal, and we have been calling these tutoring sessions for a reason, right?

Guilt thrashes me for a second, but not enough to quell the spark of joy that’s ignited in the depths of my soul.

I feel like I’ve just had an awakening and am seriously starting to wonder if what I was raised to believe is actually wrong. What if sex is something that’s meant to be enjoyed? What if they just told us kids it was forbidden because they didn’t want us sleeping around or getting pregnant too young?

What’s the bet that all the adults in my life love sex and have a bunch of it? That they just haven’t told me out of some warped fear that I might take that as permission to sleep with half the school?

“So… how’s mother dearest?” Ben stands, his voice playful, his eyes twinkling.

“Shut up.” I laugh, shaking my head and slapping a hand over my face. “If she could see me right now, she would seriously die.”

With a short laugh, Ben picks up my clothes, handing them to me with a gentle grin.

I take them and get dressed, tucking my hair back behind my ears, then adjusting my sweater. None of my clothes feel right for some reason. They’re so restrictive, and I want to be naked with him again.

Actually, I kind of want him to be naked too.

A thrill skips through me.

I’d love to touch him the way he touched me. I don’t even understand why, I just do.

But he doesn’t want that.

Crossing my arms, I try to curb this eagerness blooming inside me.

This is about me.

Not him.

He doesn’t want to be touched by my inexperienced self.

I have to respect that.

Walking to my shoes, I slip them on, then turn to thank him again.

“It’s okay.” He smiles, not even letting me get the words out. “Watching you come was beautiful. I’m glad I could do that for you.”

My insides quiver… in all the right ways.

I brush my teeth over my bottom lip but can’t contain my smile. “Are you sure you’re okay to do it again sometime?”