Page 47 of When the Smoke Clears

I don’t answer before closing the door behind me. A few seconds later, the door clicks open, and I bite my lip to keep from grinning even though my back is to him.

“You can’t breadcrumb me like that.”

I giggle. “Breadcrumb you?”

“What would you call it?”

I turn just before opening my door. “Strategic ambiguity.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“How about a cliff-hanger?” I ask.

“How about you just tell me?”

“You. Did. You left me with the feeling that no other man could give me such pleasure. But”—I turn and open the shed door—“that was a long time ago. You were much younger. And I was a virgin with nothing and no one to compare you to. You know how when you’re young everything seems better than it really is?”

I close the door and lean my back against it before he can respond. It’s such a fucking amazing feeling.

Chapter Sixteen

Eleven years earlier . . .

Kissing Will was all I could think about. He was the best kisser. Granted, I had only kissed two other guys in my life, both with braces and pimples.

We had barely made it two steps out of IHOP before Will grabbed my face and kissed me into another life. It was passionate but slow, a savored moment. I loved the way his fingertips ghosted along my neck, a feather’s touch and a contrast to his demanding lips. When he dragged his mouth along my jaw and down my neck, those gentle hands possessively gripped my ass.

“I have to go,” he mumbled, “and so do you.”

We had bachelor and bachelorette parties to attend that night, but I didn’t want to drink gross alcohol from a penis straw while my friends got plastered. And I definitely didn’t want to think about Will ogling a stripper.

“Let’s skip it,” I said breathlessly, fingers in his hair as he kissed my shoulder. “We can go back to my place or your hotel room.”

“Fuck, Everleigh . . .” He gripped my ass tighter.

We were helpless, beholden to public transportation and separate plans (obligations) for the night. What I wouldn’t have given for the back seat of a car. I assumed my first time might not feel amazing despite being so enamored of Will. He was the epitome of sexy. A muscular firefighter with a killer smile who was funny. He didn’t feel older. I wasn’t even sure how much older because I was afraid to ask for fear that he would ask my age, but I felt certain there were close to ten years between us.

“Do you like strippers?” I couldn’t help myself. The words fell out on a wave of a seventeen-year-old’s insecurities.

In case he hadn’t noticed, I didn’t look like a stripper. I was short with very few curves and an A-cup bra.

Will’s grip on my butt disappeared as he stood straight while adjusting himself in his jeans. “Is that a trick question?” He chuckled, avoiding eye contact at first.

“Yeah. I’m kidding.” I laughed it off while leading the way to the bus stop. My advanced cognition didn’t fully prepare me for everything in life, like falling in love. It had no control over my emotions. But I could predict and process potential outcomes quickly, which made it easier to pretend I wasn’t losing my mind over a hot firefighter who loved gaming as much as I did. And of course he liked strippers, or at least he enjoyed looking at naked women.

“Do you like strippers?” he asked.

I glanced behind me just as he looked at his phone screen. “Does Magic Mike count?”

He shot me a quick look and grinned. “Sure.” After ordering a ride, since Will preferred that to a bus, he slid his phone into his back pocket and stepped closer to me. “Brunch tomorrow?”

“I have classes.”

He wrinkled his nose. “You have classes the day after a bachelorette party?”

“The Stanford University School of Medicine doesn’t care that Victoria and Tyler are getting married.” I laughed. “They should have planned this during our brief two-week break, but they didn’t. So yeah, we have classes.”

It was a wild week of socializing with family and friends while still attending classes. Bachelor and bachelorette parties were usually weeks before the wedding, not days. But most of the bridal party was from out of town, and Victoria wanted at least two days to recover. That’s why the parties were on a Thursday. Rehearsal Saturday. Wedding Sunday, because it was cheaper. And back to school on Monday—no honeymoon.