Page 57 of Kiss Slay Replay

I will have to answer for my sins. He won’t.

“That was something,” he says, kissing along my collarbone.

It was hot but it wasn’t exactly romantic, not in execution. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t cosmic.

My expectations were too high. What was I hoping for? Multiple orgasms? A deep soul connection? World peace? It was first-time sex in a twin bed. The first first time I’ve had since Ravi. It’s been almost nine years since I’ve been with someone new.

I kiss his forehead, ruffle his hair. “We should head back to the wedding. Our cake will get stale if it sits out for too long.”

“I don’t need dessert,” he says, tracing my lips with his fingers. “I have you.”

“I’m not that sweet,” I tell him, sliding out of bed.

“Wouldn’t be so sure. Hey. Come back.”

I hunt for my underwear. I forgot how much I hate this postcoital dance—staggering around looking for your clothes, vulnerable and self-conscious and sweaty.

I find them in a knot in the corner near the window. I pick up my panties and clumsily step back into them. A gap appears between the burlap curtains as they ripple over an air vent. I see out onto the porch and to the path. In the quiet dark there’s the flick of a black feather.

The gap flutters shut. I reach out for the curtains, pull them back just a little, just a sliver for me to peek through. There’s a crow on the porch, on the banister. It’s enormous.

“What’s up?” Danny asks, buttoning his fly.

“There’s a bird. A crow. Look.”

He comes over to the window. “Whoa. Big guy.”

“It’s weird, right?”

“I’m starting to think birds are dinosaurs.”

I laugh. “Yeah? Cool theory.”

He grabs my hips, spins me around, and throws me on the bed. He climbs on top of me and chomps my neck. It’s cute. It’s stifling. It’s playful. It’s fun. It’s good.

“I don’t want to leave this room,” he says.

Is this how it feels to be wanted? I can’t remember. I kiss him. He kisses me back. Open mouth. Tongue.

I pull away. “We really should get going. For Steph and Jace.”

He groans and rolls off me. “Girl Scout.”

I hold up three fingers. Scout’s honor. “You love it.”

He bites his lip.

“There’s always tomorrow,” I say. “Tomorrow night. Sunday morning.”

“I’m a live-in-the-present type.”

“I don’t know. I think you’re a secret romantic. I think you’re already plotting to whisk me off to Tokyo and take me to your favorite sushi spot.”

He props himself up on his elbows, pulls his mouth wide and flat. It’s not a face I’ve seen him make before.

Why did I just say that? Fuuuck me.

“Ah. I do love Tokyo. That does sound like a good time. But…” He takes a breath, does his awkward laugh. “I’m good for a good time. I’m not good for anything long-term. Anything serious. I’m all over the place. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”