For me, that time wasn’t simple. I don’t have fond memories that I relive when one of those songs comes on the radio. It’s when a lot of bad things happened. Plus, my father had a top ten hit at the time that everyone was listening to. I couldn’t get away from it. Hell, the marching band even played it at halftime once. I lost my shit during the second half and ended up getting kicked out of the game.

So I started writing my own music. Not to take after my father, but to get him out of my head. This song calms me, takes me away from all that.

The air around me stirs. I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them. Ivy is sitting on the floor at my feet, her chin tilted upward, listening. I put my palm against the strings and the sound fades away.

She frowns. “Don’t stop, Jon. It’s…it’s beautiful. I want to hear the rest.”

I’ll tell you what’s beautiful. The girl in front of me. I exhale a long, slow breath, hoping I’m not in the middle of a dream right now.

“Tell me you wrote that one, because—”

“How did you know?” I ask, curious. She wasn’t nearly as confident when she asked the same thing about my father’s song.

She shrugged. “I don’t really know. It…it sounds like you, I guess.”

The initial chord sequence came to me while I was living in the basement of my foster family’s home. I’d sit down there for hours, often stoned, and play it over and over. Ivy’s right. It is a part of me.

“Mmmm.” She closes her eyes. “Keep playing.”

So I do, starting from the beginning. After the third chorus, when I get to the part I usually struggle with, the song changes slightly. For some reason, I reverse the chord sequence.

I stop, replay that part. It’s…it’s perfect. I can’t believe it didn’t come to me until now. I play it again, start to finish. Holy shit. That one little change has made all the difference.

Suddenly, I’m staring down into her warm green eyes, and she’s staring up at me. Something shifts between us. An awareness. A shared secret.

Without saying a word, she moves closer. With the song still echoing in the air, she removes the guitar from my grasp and sets it on the floor beside the couch. Her eyes are dark with need, echoing my desire. She hooks her thumbs under the waistband of my sweats, so I lift my hips and she slides them down. My erection springs free.

“Jesus, Ivy.” I can’t get inside her fast enough. I start to pull her up on my lap, but she stops me with a hand on my chest.

“Not yet,” she says and pushes me back in my seat. She frees my feet from the sweats and tosses them behind her. Which leaves me sitting on the couch, naked from the waist down, my cock jutting out at her. “I admit I had that in mind, but seeing you like this—” The tip of her tongue darts out. “—makes me want to do something else first.”

Holy fuck.

I’m pretty sure I just got harder.

“Is that okay with you?” she asks, a smile tugging at the corner of her luscious mouth.

“Of course.” She could ask me to do anything right now and I’d gladly do it.

She positions herself between my knees, leans forward and takes me into her mouth.

I groan loudly, grabbing the armrest to keep from holding onto her hair. Instinctively, I know that could make her panic. And believe me, stopping is the last thing I want her to do right now.

What is it about Ivy that hits all the right notes with me? She makes me laugh, makes me feel good about myself, and I’m not just saying that because she has my dick in her mouth right now. She has this amazing ability to drive away the darkness that has always been a part of my life.

At this rate, I’m not going to last much longer, and as much as I want her to continue, I want her to experience this, too.

Wordlessly, I lift her to her feet. She lets out a surprised laugh when I scoop her into my arms, carry her to the bedroom, and set her on the mattress. My mouth crashes over hers as we strip off our clothes. Without breaking our kiss, I grab the box of condoms I brought. Goddamn it. You think they’d know people don’t want to spend much time trying to figure out how the box works. I wrench myself away from her, rip it open, and little foil packages go flying.

“Fuck!”

She laughs.

I tear one open with my teeth and quickly roll it on. Her hair spreads over the pillow, her lips slightly swollen and parted. I fall on top of her, my mouth finding hers again as I guide myself like an arrow. There. The tip slides in, right between her folds, and I stop.

“Baby, you ready?” I ask against her lips. “After what this naughty mouth of yours just did, I’m about to explode.”

“Yes,” she whispers, kissing me back.

That’s all I need to hear.

With my weight braced on my forearms, I flex my hips and push into her. She hisses in a breath. I still myself briefly, allowing her a chance to get used to me being inside her. She’s so hot. So damn tight. I’m not going to last long.

“Fuck me, Jon.”

Oh shit. My mouth crashes over hers and I thrust into her. Once. Twice. Three times.

“God, Ivy,” I groan into her hair. “I hope you’re close.”

She cries out my name and arches her back, allowing me to slide a fraction deeper. Her inner muscles tighten around me. Guess that’s my answer.

I’m…I’m there, too.

I need this.

I need Ivy.

She’s mine.

My release rushes over me with a force so strong that, I swear, my heart stopped beating for a second. I hold her tighter, wishing this could go on forever.

“Yes,” she whispers softly in my ear. “I need you, too.”

Ivy

The next day we get up early because I have to work at noon. I strip the bed, wrap myself up like a burrito, and head to the laundry room to start a load. Jon laughs at me and the little steps I’m taking. (It’s hard to walk like a burrito.) I yelp when he grabs the other sheet from me and puts it over his head like a ghost.

“I’m coming for you,” he says in a spooky voice, holding out his arms.

I scream, hitch up my sheet, and run down the hall, but before I reach the laundry room, I hear a clunk.

“Ouch.”

I turn around. Jon is rubbing his head. Not being able to see were he was going, he bumped into the corner of the door.

“Let me kiss your boo-boo.”

We end up leaving a little later than we planned.

My shift at work literally drags on forever. Everyone’s talking about what happened to Maddy. When they find out I live in the same dorm, I’m bombarded with lots of questions. Because I hate being the center of attention, I keep my answers vague and manage to avoid telling them that I was the one who discovered her. I’m sure it’ll get out though. Things like that always do.

Now, I’m finally back at the White House, sitting in the family room with Jon and his roommates.

“Let your goddamn cousin sleep in your goddamn bed!”

With my eyes downcast, I try to keep a straight face and let Jon handle this.

Cassidy got back from Portland a few hours ago. The police still haven’t caught the guy who attacked Maddy, but they have a few leads. Even though they’ve rekeyed the entire residence hall, including all the dorm rooms, Jon insists I stay here with him, which is okay by me. However, I don’t want Cassidy to stay at the dorm alone and since Tate is her cousin, it only makes sense that she should stay here, too. It was Jon’s idea, actually.

“Then where am I supposed to sleep, huh?” Tate adjusts his PSU ball cap, pulling it lower on his forehead. “Didn’t anyone think about that? Why doesn’t anyone seem to care about me or my needs?”