I let out a genuine laugh, my head tilting back to rest against his bed. “Thanks.”

He turns to me, his eyes hooded. He licks his perfect lips, and he’s looking at me like he wants to kiss me. I’m looking at him like I want him to, I know it. But for whatever reason, I shy away. Stupid brain. Stupid broken heart.

“I should probably go,” I whisper. “It’s getting late.”

Nate presses his lips together in a thin line, then inhales a deep breath through his nose. He closes my laptop and reluctantly hands it to me. I take it and stand.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice tight.

I nod, smiling.

I walk down the hallway feeling like I left a piece of myself back there in his room. Only an hour ago I had decided to stop thinking so much and just let myself have a little fun. Then he had to go and talk about girlfriends and commitment, and I talked myself right back into denying him. Why can’t I just let him kiss me? It’s a kiss, it feels good. What’s so wrong with feeling good? I reach up and touch my lips, remembering the heat of his mouth that night in the hotel room. I want to feel that heat again. What am I doing? Why do I keep letting myself walk away from him when I just want to…I want…

A kiss. Just one kiss.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I put my laptop on my bed and run my fingers through my hair. I retrace the steps I just took, back to Nate’s room, where the door is still open. He’s standing beside his bed, leaning over and pulling back the sheets. He stills the second I reach the doorway, like he can feel my presence. Maybe he’s as attuned to me as I am to him.

When his eyes meet mine, I’m drawn across the room like I’m on autopilot, like I don’t have any choice in the matter. And then I’m right in front of him, and he’s looking at me like he can see through all of my fears and all of my excuses. Like he sees right down into the heart of me. And the thing is, I can’t look away. The light hits his eyes in a way that makes them so blue. His pupils are rimmed in a darker color, and I think his eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Without thinking, I reach up and skim my fingers across his brow bone and down his temple to his cheeks. His eyelids flutter shut and he licks his lips and my heart his pounding so hard that I know he must be able to feel it through my fingertips. He turns his head a little, and his quickening breaths slip across my wrist, and then those gorgeous eyes are on mine again. My fingers slip back along the column of his neck as my other hand slides up his chest and around his shoulder. I pull myself up onto my tiptoes and press my lips against his before I lose my nerve. Instantly, one of Nate’s hands makes its way along my waist, coming to rest on the small of my back, pulling me against his body. The other threads into my hair, cradling my head as my knees turn to jelly.

Kissing him feels as easy and necessary as breathing. He tastes like I remember, his tongue so perfect against mine, and he makes these soft noises as we move together that I want to keep for the rest of my life. I want to be the only one who ever gets to hear them.

We kiss like we’re never going to stop, for minutes or maybe hours. However long it is it’s not enough, and when we finally part, I feel lost. Nate presses his forehead against mine, and I trace his neck and shoulders with my fingers. He closes his eyes and sighs, then crooks his finger beneath my chin and lifts my head until our lips meet again in a slower, more tender kiss.

When we break apart this time, I slide my hands down his arms, letting our fingers tangle together before I pull away. I want more, but if I’m going to allow myself to have this until we leave, I need to know that I can control it. I need to know that this can be on my own terms.

“Callie,” Nate whispers.

There are so many things I want to say to him, want to do with him. I promised myself one kiss, but I took two.

“Goodnight,” I say quietly, offering him a smile. It’s a genuine one, full of all the things I can’t say.

It takes everything I have in me to walk out the door.

THE WRIGHTS’ backyard is decorated with colorful hanging lanterns; blue, red, purple and yellow globes casting soft light across the yard as they dangle from wires stretched between trees. The rest of the very small bridal party arrived earlier this afternoon, and Amy is celebrating all of us finally being in one place by throwing a pre-rehearsal dinner dinner. We’ve kind of naturally gravitated into two groups, divided by sex. Gabby and I are sitting with two of our dearest friends, both of whom are here to be bridesmaids in the wedding. There’s Jasmine, with her ebony skin and long, sleek hair and smile that can make you spill your deepest, darkest secrets, and Shelby, the shy, bookish brunette with a wild streak in her that you’d never see coming. Ethan’s Emily sits on the perimeter of our little circle; not quite part of the group, not quite a stranger.

“Morocco or Greece, those are your choices?” Gabby asks, looking at Jasmine like her potential vacation destinations are the worst places to visit in the entire world.

“I know that’s not judgment I hear, Gabby Morgan.” Jasmine is using that voice she reserves for the times when she wants you to know that she’s just not going to take any of your shit anymore.

“It’s just…why go alone? On a trip like that?” Gabby asks.

“Because I want to go on a vacation, and I’m not going to sit around waiting for some man to take me.”

“You sound like Callie,” Gabby says.

“Hey,” I reply, with not entirely mock offense. “Leave me out of this.”

“If Callie wants to be man-free, I support that,” Jasmine says, smiling at me. “I work hard. I’m married to my job. Healthiest relationship I’ve ever had, truthfully. I got a promotion, so I’m taking myself on a celebratory trip. My own personal honeymoon, if you will,” she says before taking a sip from the glass of wine she’s holding in her right hand. “And I won’t have to pick up after some slob.”

“A honeymoon without the sex,” Shelby reminds her. Shelby’s level of pervertedness could put a man to shame.

“Girl, I can get the sex without the commitment.” Jasmine smirks in Shelby’s direction. “I’ll meet some Greek hottie and get myself all taken care of. You two can marry off if you want to,” she says, waving her hand dismissively at Gabby and Shelby. “I’m happy by myself.”

I sigh, wishing I could be that sure about my life of self-imposed solitude. I’m doing it more out of necessity than preference. I don’t want a broken heart; Jasmine doesn’t want a commitment. Jasmine comes and sits down next to me, and when I turn my head to smile at her, I catch a glimpse of Nate. Nate, Ben, and their father are over on the patio of the guest house, standing around the grill, beers in hand. Marco and Xavier, Ben’s groomsmen are there too, animatedly talking to Mr. Wright, probably discussing the proper torque in a ’67 Mustang or whatever it is that men talk about when they’re being all manly. Nate looks up at the same time I do, and our eyes meet. He smiles, nodding toward me, and I smile back, a warm rush of nerves tingling all the way down to my toes. Even standing all the way across the yard, he still knows how to get to me.

“Ben’s brother’s testing your vow of celibacy, isn’t he?” Jasmine says softly, so that I’m the only one who can hear her. “I know that look, Callie. You’re in trouble already and you don’t even know it.”

I grin, because she’s wrong, wrong, wrong. I’m in trouble, sure. But I definitely know it.

“So, Emily,” Shelby says, and I feel this sense of dread creeping up inside of me, spreading its icy fingers across my belly. Gabby and I both told Shelby and Jasmine of the Ethan-slash-Emily situation and drilled into them that talk of my history with Ethan is forbidden, but they’ve both got some alcohol in them, so who knows what’ll happen? “How did you meet Ethan?”