Page 197 of Mad Girl

You: This is killing me. I hate not hearing from you.

Michael wanted me to answer him? You hated not hearing from me? Fine, I decided, firing off a bunch of middle finger emojis. There.

Then, one beautiful brisk day, Nic and I were sitting in the sunroom with all the windows open—him on his phone, responding to emails, and me on mine, texting—when I dropped the phone in my lap and sighed.

Nic glanced up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Talk to me, Elliot. What’s going on?”

Since I’d been making an effort to spend more time with him—to do better—things had been more relaxed between us. I found myself wanting to tell him stuff that I’d normally keep to myself out of spite. “I’ve been texting Willoughby,” I admitted. “He said we should hang out this summer, but I told him I can’t.”

Nic turned his gaze to the row of windows—to that breathtaking ocean view he owned—and thought for a minute. “Why don’t you invite him over here to hang out?”

I blinked at him, stunned. “Are you serious?”

Maybe this had been the trick to being happier all along. The happier I made him, the happier he’d want to make me.

“Yeah. I’d like to meet this boy with the unfortunate name.”

“He’s scared of you.”

Nic smiled. “That’s perfect.”

“Can we hang out alone?” I asked excitedly. “Like, can I take him up to my room?”

The smile melted off his face. “Why are you so eager to take him up to your room?”

“Because I’m nineteen, Dad, and I should have that freedom. If I were going to college this fall, I’d be able to take boys back to my dorm as often as I want.”

“We never discussed you living in the dorms. And boys? Plural?”

“Yes,” I said, standing my ground. “I could be alone with boys. Plural.”

His gaze darkened. “Nineteen in two weeks, and alone for what?”

Did I really have to say it?

But he lifted both brows and said it for me. “Sex?”

“If that’s what I want, yeah.”

His eyes drifted closed. His lungs filled with air, which he slowly released. He needed time to process this—to finally accept it. “I leave you alone with a boy all the time. Come fall, you’ll be left alone with him three days a week.”

“That’s…different.”

“How so?”

“Because he’s a boy who doesn’t want to touch me like that.”

Nic laughed. “He’s a boy with principles—which I can appreciate—but that certainly doesn’t mean he isn’t interested in touching you.”

“Believe me, he isn’t.” Because that’s the thing, Casey. I didn’t believe you were. In a let’s-snuggle-on-the-couch-during-a-movie sort of way, sure. But never, ever in a back-me-into-the-wall-and-stick-your-hand-up-my-skirt kind of way. Take our first kiss, for instance, when you’d banished me back to my sofa before it could go from hot to sizzling.

Nic’s gaze held mine. “You didn’t see what he did to those boys, Elliot. Based on that and a few other things I’ve witnessed, I’d say Casey wants more than just sex with you. But he’s sensible enough to know something that serious can wait.”

But that was the problem. I didn’t want to wait. I’d waited years already.