“She probably faked it.”
He sits back. “Wow.”
“Yup,” I say. “You’ve gotta cut them some slack, though. They could be really inexperienced and not even know their own bodies. Or have something going on that makes it difficult to reach climax.”
He watches me intently.
“A woman’s ability to orgasm can be affected by so many factors. Hormones, stress, pressure, all of it can make it harder.Somuch harder,” I say, regarding him sincerely.
Something flickers over his expression, like mischief. I sharpen my gaze.
“That’s what she said,” he says quietly then purses his lips and watches me, eyes dancing.
I just stare at him for a second, my eyes wide. Then a laugh bubbles up and out of me. Then another and another, until I’m laughing so hard my sides ache. Julian just watches me, delight lighting up his face. It makes no sense—the joke wasn’tthatfunny. But the pent-up tension and emotion and stress of the last few days—hell, of the entire summer—had me wound up sotight that my body jumped at the chance to release it all. I can’t stop. And I don’t even want to.
Julian chuckles a little bit with me, but I’ve clearly reached that point of hysteria at which no one else really gets the joke. I don’t care, though, and just keep laughing.
“I was just… going to ask—” I wheeze. “About this topic. Is it…biggerthan you expected?” I bust up again, tears starting to run down my cheeks.
Now he does laugh with me, throwing his head back. The sound is throaty and beautiful.
“Yeah, it is,” he says, his eyes glittering. “You really took it… deep.”
We laugh so hard together that we’re both gasping and hooting, hardly able to breathe. After a little while, we settle into that easy stillness that follows a fit of hard laughter.
“Hooo-wheee.” I sigh contentedly, wiping my wet cheeks. “I haven’t laughed like that in forever.”
I look over at Julian, who is watching me with eyes that could light a candle. I cover my face with my hands. “You have got to stop looking at me like that, Julian.”
“I can’t help it. Just when I think you couldn’t be any more gorgeous, you go and do something like that.” He grips the sides of his chair tightly and then relaxes his hands, taking a deep breath.
My heart does a little pitter-pat thing, and my stomach joins the act with some somersaults. I sigh. “I had a feeling this was a bad idea.”
“What?” he asks, affronted. “I’m being good. I’m over here in my chair and haven’t touched you. Not once.”
“No, you’re right, you’re right. But maybe you could stop eye-fucking me?”
He snorts, his eyes flaring. “I can do that.”
“Thank you.” I laugh, shaking my head.
Chapter
Nine
We manageto get through the next few hours discussing orgasms, sex, and various other random topics without any touching—accidental or otherwise. It’s been a lot of fun getting to know him in this way. He’s engaging, funny, smart—just as beautiful inside as out.
I push down the yearning and loneliness that threaten to overtake me at the thought of his departure in only two days. The topic of careers comes up when I ask him what he intends to major in.
“One of the sciences, I think,” he says. “I think I want to go into something related to health.”
“Ah, okay. Like a doctor or nurse, maybe?”
“Yeah. Or maybe even research. My uncle died from pancreatic cancer about six months ago, and that got me interested.”
I frown. “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.”
He nods. “Yeah, thanks. We weren’t close. He actually lived in Mexico until about a year ago, when he moved in with my grandma, my abuela, here in Oceanside. But I remember him from before, when we’d visit down there. He was legendary—TíoJavier, the life of the party, the loud one who never let anyone have a bad time.” He smiles softly. “He was a lifelong bachelor, and he used to joke that he loved his dog too much to ever get a wife and make her jealous.”
