Adrenaline zips through me. My dream girl’s in my room, smiling as she perches on my bed—the cactus-print sheets my parents bought when they first brought me home. Sheets I once clutched during nightmares, sheets Nova herself has fallen asleep wrapped in countless times. And now... God, it feels unreal.
My legs are trembling. I can’t think of what to say. “Some music?” I mutter, tugging at my T-shirt, too nervous to meet her gaze.
She chuckles softly. “Sure.”
I fumble at the stereo, hit play, and instantly regret it as Nirvana blares from the speakers. Not exactly romantic.
Nova bursts into laughter, and the sound of it calms me. “Maybe something softer,” she teases.
“Yeah,” I say, rifling through CDs until I find aSleeping At Lastalbum—probably slipped in by Aunt Evelyn. I remind myself to thank her tomorrow as I press play and recognize the first song immediately. It’s from theTwilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1soundtrack, a movie Nova made me watch a hundred times during her middle school vampire phase. A phase that, honestly, never ended.
I take a deep breath.Courage, Vincent. This is your dream. Go get it.
When I finally turn, Nova’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with a candle and lighter she’s somehow found. I join her, taking the candle from her hands before she can burn herself. Our fingers brush, and when our eyes meet, we both smile shyly.
“A-are you sure?” I whisper as I place the candle on the nightstand and switch off the lamp. Now the room is bathed in warm orange glow.
“Are you sure?” she counters, slipping the straps of her white dress off her shoulders.
I nod, but hesitate. “Maybe we could just...”
“Just?” she prompts, curious.
“We could... explore first. Learn each other. I want to know every inch of you, to figure out how to make you feel good before...” My voice trails off as I tug at my shirt.
“Yes,” she says quickly, nodding.
She lifts the hem of my T-shirt, sliding it up and over my head, tossing it to the floor. Her eyes travel from my chest to my arms, to my neck, my lips, then finally my eyes— her gaze full of tenderness.
She takes my hands and presses them to her thighs as she begins to pull her dress up. My fingers help, and in moments, the white dress pools with my T-shirt on the floor.
Nova sits before me in a lace bra and simple cotton panties, both white. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.
“You’re stunning, baby,” I whisper, cupping her face and kissing her.
She smiles against my lips, then pulls me down by the waistband of my jeans. Lying back, her dark hair spills over my pillow. She tugs at my zipper until my jeans slide off, joining the pile of clothes.
I pull the sheets over us as she spreads her legs, guiding me between them. Her hands frame my face as she kisses me deeper, her tongue parting my lips.
My palms plant on either side of her head, sinking into the pillow. My heart is hammering, but when I feel hers racing too, it’s like they’re beating together—in unison, for each other.
Her hands tangle in my hair, tugging, twisting strands around her fingers, playing with them like I’m hers to claim.
I trail kisses down her throat, slow and hungry, until I reach the soft curve between her breasts. I glance up for permission, and the way her lips part, the way her chest rises faster, is all the answer I need. She stifles a moan when my hand slips lower, brushing the edge of her panties.
Her fingers tremble as they unclasp her bra, and when it slips free she tosses it aside without hesitation. Heat floods my chest, and I can’t believe where we found the courage for this. I smile against her skin, filling her breasts with lingering kisses, tastingher. My fingers tease the thin barrier of fabric left on her body, and I kiss her forehead.
“We can try this... if you want?” I murmur, letting my thumb drag slowly across the dampness soaking through her panties. Her body arches up to meet my touch, her gasp sharper this time, and she nods desperately.
“Okay...” I whisper back, my voice thick.
I hook my fingers at the sides of her panties and begin tugging them down, my lips still brushing hers. “Are you sure? We can stop anytime.”
Instead, she takes my hands and pushes the fabric off herself, completely bare now. Her voice is steady, breathless: “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” She pulls me into another kiss, her tongue sliding against mine, her nails biting into my shoulders.
Now she’s spread out beneath me, naked in my bed, my sheets, her scent already everywhere. The only thing keeping me from her is the thin cotton of my boxers and I’ve never felt so alive.
“You ready?” I whisper.
