Despite the age difference and the fact that I’d taken advantage of her innocence, she truly made me feel things I never thought possible. What’s crazy is she made me feel things that I never felt with Janet, and with her, I thought I’d felt it all.

She still looked the same—no, actually she looked better. He wild curls made her look purposely untamable. The sun made her perfect olive skin shine. She had an urban/hippy way of dressing now. Short blue jeans, ripped at the hems. Round sunglasses tucked in the collar of her shirt, feather-like earrings and a ton of bracelets on her wrists. It suited her. She reminded me of young Norah Jones. A girl of sweet melody. A woman of beauty, pain, and bliss.

I don’t know how I managed to still lose my breath around her. So beautiful and still carrying small hints of innocence. She hadn’t changed a bit. She’d matured, all signs of a good thing.

I’d made a promise to myself a long time ago that I would curse her out, grab her roughly, and shake her by the shoulders, demanding an answer as to why she didn’t tell me goodbye. I, of all people in her life, deserved a farewell. Yes, I can admit that three years before I’d gone off the deep end. I was losing my shit, losing my fucking way, but I still deserved a little regard.

I guess none of that mattered. Everything I said I would do when I saw her again, didn’t dare happen. Just the mere sight of her made my heart do cartwheels, my cock pulse.

Her body had matured too. She was blessed in all the right ways. The chime of her laughter was beautiful, riding straight to my crotch. She still laughed the same. I remembered that, and also the way she moaned. How she cried and even how she whispered my name. I remembered everything as soon as I laid eyes on her in that grocery store.

But she pretended I was nothing—like none of what we did mattered anymore. I feared that maybe she’d gotten over me, or worse—that she was going to rat me out. I needed to know if she’d changed, so dinner was the motive.

She denied.

I refused to take no for an answer, so I waited in the parking lot, the sun beaming down on me. She tried to hide; I saw her ducking in the aisle. I got a kick out of it, laughing as I saw her coming out, shocked to see me standing right there, only a few yards away from her car.

She was a smart girl, but she knew how I was. I was persistent. I didn’t give up, and when she finally agreed to dinner, I’d never felt more relieved. In that moment, I knew she’d still kept that secret to herself.

Come on. It was Chloe for Christ sake. She held all of my secrets, and I held hers. I told no one about what happened between us. Those were moments that only we could talk about, moments that meant so much.

I felt horrible for hurting her, but it was time to make it right.

I thought I was past this girl, but I was so damn wrong.

Seeing her brought me right back to where we started, wanting to reel her in. Make her feel better, because the pain, hurt, and sorrow was all too clear. I needed to make up for my mistakes.

I wanted to make her feel like a virgin all over again—only this time, I’d know better. I would take my time, handle her correctly, like a virgin is supposed to be treated. With kindness. Gentleness. Care.

I would make her grateful that it was me who popped her sweet, delicate cherry, and I bet she would never leave without saying goodbye again.

NINE

The following day was terrifying. Not only was Dad worse, but he was also running a high fever and refusing to take his medicine. Without his memory, he was a mad man. Margie and I spent three relentless hours trying to calm him. She ended up crushing one of the pills and dumping it in his yogurt. The pill soothed him a lot.

By six that evening, he was in bed, numb as he watched a game of golf. I felt bad for him. I hated that we had to trick him into getting calm, tell him who we were and that we were there to help him not hurt him. He didn’t trust us.

Not only was Dad’s behavior taking a toll on my mind, but someone else’s dad was as well—Izzy’s. I planned on going over around 7:30, even though he said 6:00. It would be a late dinner and a late round of drinks, but it would give me an excuse to leave as soon as possible, you know, since it would already be kind of late? I planned on staying for about an hour.

Yeah¸ that was the plan anyway.

It took me a while to find something to wear. I was about to put on a dress, but then I realized how easy it would be for him to sneak a hand beneath. Shorts would have been too revealing, but it was really hot. I refused to put on jeans or look like an idiot by wearing sweatpants during the middle of summer.

So, I tugged on some self-made jean shorts, a white blouse with the sleeves cutoff, fixed my curly mane, and applied an Indian-styled headband, and then I was out of the door.

The walk took less than a minute, but as I walked across, it felt like it’d taken a lifetime. The garage gate was open, and Theo was just walking out, opening the deep freezer. He took out a pack of unthawed steaks (I’m guessing he was keeping them cool), and when he heard my footsteps, he looked up. I threw up a quick wave, unable to hide my smile as I spotted him. He looked… amazing. And I was sure he hadn’t even tried.

It was simple, really. Cargo shorts, a black T-shirt that hugged his firm body, and a pair of black Nikes. His hair looked like it’d just been trimmed, washed, and styled. It wasn’t this way yesterday. Did he do this for me, or was it that time of month for a routine haircut? Either way, his attire was effortless, his entire appearance mouthwatering.

“Little Knight!” he chimed, holding his hands out. I walked into the garage, past his bike that had greasy tools surrounding it. “Didn’t think you’d show.” He held up the pack of steak, taking a quick glance at it before looking at me again. “I was just about to season these T-bones and toss them on the grill.”

“Sounds great.” Turning, he opened the door and held it open, allowing me inside. It’d been a while since I last set foot in this home. The last time was that night… the night that changed everything.

I walked in ahead of him, slipping out of my sandals and then walking to the kitchen. There were empty margarita glasses set up on the island counter. The house looked different, more modern than the upscale look Mrs. Black tried to uphold.

He’d changed the black appliances to silver, and there were now two ovens in the wall across from me. The flat stovetop was built on top of the island counter that took up the center of the spacious kitchen. Theo walked in after me, barefoot now. I supposed the Japanese tradition was the only thing he hung on to.

“Why’d you think I wouldn’t show?” I asked as I sat at one of the cushioned barstools at the island.

Theo walked on the opposite side, drawing out a butcher’s knife and cutting through the plastic that was wrapped around the steaks. While pulling out the T-bones, he shrugged and said, “It’s nearing eight o’clock. Dinner is usually served somewhere between five and seven.” One of his cheeks tugged up, forming a crooked grin.

“My… dad isn’t doing so well.” I looked away. “I was at the store yesterday because all he’ll eat is vanilla yogurt during his bad days. Bought a ton.”

“Man.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe what he’s going through. Now that you finally get to spend time with him, he’s—” His words quickly stopped flowing when he realized where he was headed and how much it would pain me to hear.

The thing about Theo was he kind of had no filter. He spoke his mind. He didn’t care if feelings happened to get hurt. Izzy used to hate when he’d blast her in front of our friends or during sleepovers. He was a real man, one that didn’t sugarcoat shit, not even his own feelings.