"Homework," I whisper. "I'll do it later."
When Asher's face isn't sabotaging me.
When my brain stops doing whatever this is.
When I'm not picturing his mouth every time I close my eyes.
I sigh into the pillow, exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.
Somehow, impossibly, he's managed to get under my skin without ever laying a finger on me.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
And then - annoyingly - my brain circles back to what I already said earlier.
Putting it into practice.
I already brought it up. Already decided reading and listening isn't enough.
I need to actually do something.
With someone else.
I frown into the pillow.
Dylan.
Is Dylan the right move?
He's... fine. Safe.Predictable. He flirts like he's following instructions, not like he's trying to crawl inside my head. He doesn't make my body react without permission.
Which is kind of the point.
This isn't about feelings. It's about learning.. Experience. Experimenting.
Practice.
I take a breath.
Yeah.
Dylan makes sense.
He'll be at the party. He always is.
Nothing complicated.
I nod to myself, decision settling even if it doesn't feel solid.
I don't know if I just made the best or worst decision of my life.
Chapter 8
Tip eight; Don't be afraid to be vocal, ask for what you want, show them that what they're doing is nice. Moan, groan and gasp.
Ivy
Charlie walks in beside me, the thump of the music echoing through my sneakers and into my body, my head unknowingly beginning to bop along.
