“Did you kiss?” my sister, Maria, asks.
“No,” I reply, shuddering at the thought. “Anyway, he had a tarantula.”
Dad holds up his latest romance novel. The cover features a half-naked man with impressive pecs.
“Did he at least have a masculine chest?” he asks. “Like my dashing dukehere?”
“It was a perfectly average chest.”
Maybe it wasn’t a chest. Maybe it was a battery slot. Or a spider cage.
Whatever it was, I had no interest in touching it.
It’s nothing new. I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even made out with anyone.
A boy kissed me once when I was fifteen. The next day he moved to Ireland with his family. I haven’t kissed anyone since. Not properly. I haven’t wantedto. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will.
It’s like my brain never got the assignment to want someone.
At least not anyone suitable.
Dad pats my shoulder, probably interpreting my silence as disappointment.
“No pressure, son. Date when you want. Don’t date when you don’t. You’re on no one’s timeline but your own.”
“And Mom’s,” Maria adds, snatching my last banana slice.
I laugh because Maria’s got a point.
Besides, laughing is easier than wondering whether something inside me is missing, broken, or simply waiting.
CHAPTER 3 – CASPIAN
After thirty minutes of driving, I step into Gaywood, the bar wedged between Baywood and South Ridge. Rainbow lights sweep across glitter, sweat, andbare skin. The pulse of the music feels almost visible in the air, vibratingthrough the room into me.
I order a club soda and scan the room, the thoughts of Cole and Xadenfinally starting to fade.
A blond guy in a pink tee and shredded skinny jeans keeps glancing at me, sparking my interest.
I cross the floor, weaving unhurriedly between bodies pressed together.When I stop in front of him, his breath hitches.
“Are you here with someone?” I ask, letting my eyes linger on his mouth.His lips are full, soft, and trembling slightly.
Pink blotches appear on his throat as he shakes his head.
“What’s your name?”
“Josh.”
“Nice to meet you, Josh. I’m Caspian.”
He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He looks at me with a mixof awe and nerves that I recognize all too well.
“You want to come with me?”
He nods eagerly and follows me outside, almost tripping over his own feet.
The night air is blissfully cool after the bar.
